#truly nothing a little . can't fix! ^_^

[sabrirene]

i fear the 'surely someone's gonna save me' in sunshine baby has an incredible chokehold on me

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[painsandconfusion]

Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

[whos-the-seme]

okay but I kinda need read a fic where Shen Yuan is wife plotted (AGAIN) by some random papapa plant (dammit Airplane--) and he basically falls into a floating coma or something. on a hunt for some rare herbs with liu qingge, he's lured by the sound of his Binghe's (his lost little lamb) voice and ends up ensnared.

okay, imagine that he's being held high in the air by these vines, just asleep, and nothing can wake him, even after liu qingge cuts the monster plant down to get him. he's just sleeping, rosy-cheeked, unwakeable.

peak lords panic, and start trying to figure it out what this rare plant is. sqh wracks his brain somewhat and somewhat remembers this plot line.

they come to the conclusion that its the everlasting dreams flower or some shit. basically traps the victim in their dreams while it sucks out their qi until the person dies of dehydration/starvation or qi loss, whichever kills them first (sometimes, its not the latter, and if the person is a cultivator, they can last a while before their qi is fully drained enough that they can no longer practice inedia but also haven't died yet). meanwhile, the person won't even care because their dreams are so sweet, that they don't want to leave.

the only way to cure it? true love's song. someone who truly knows and loves the sleeper needs to sing something from the heart, and if it's pure enough or something, it can pierce through the pleasant dreams of the person and wake them up. yqy and lqg instantly become flustered, but both of them can't help but secretly wonder how it would feel to have Xiao jiu/shen-shixiong wake up at their song.

they confer with the rest of the peak lords a little outside of shen yuan's resting rooms on the Qian Cao peak, and yqy decides to sing a little lullaby he used to sing to Xiao jiu when they were still on the streets. he goes in, his voice is a steady but a bit nervous, but he croons that shit out. airplane can't believe his fucking ears. yqy could honestly be an idol its not fair wtf-- only, sqh knows he can't dance to save his fucking life, so.

when yqy finishes, he waits, but his heart sinks when Xiao jiu doesn't so much as stir. he hurries out of the room but sqh notices how the tips of his ears are red in embarrassment. of course, even when he still had his memory, Xiao jiu wanted nothing to do with him, why did he think it would change now, he just--

lqj goes in next. he murmurs a song that he constantly hears sqq sometimes strumming on his guqin, thinking that means sqq must love the song. he's not sure what else he can do, he doesn't know how to sing from the heart, but the feelings he has for his shixiong... he has to at least try to wake him.

he doesn't wake. lqj walks out in defeat.

airplane who has been wracking his brain all this time because he was trying to think of requirements for awakening so he wasn't paying attention suddenly jumps up. he doesn't mind the startled glances that the other peak lords give him.

he just remembered!

the song didn't have to be a romantic song or anything. the love for the sleeper didn't have to be romantic love, at all! he remembered this plot line that he added about binghe trying to wake one of his wives, but it was one of the wives' sisters that woke her, because she truly loved her sister deeply. causing binghe to realize that his love was becoming shallow, in that it wasn't enough anymore or blah blah blah. he scrapped that plot line and that plant after he got a ton of bad reviews for even suggestion that lbh's love (pillar) wasn't big enough and so he had lbh fix it with papapa, but whatever!

he shivered.

anyway, the story has been so warped over time that its only told that it has to be a romantic lover. but it didn't have to be.

he had an idea. he loved Shen Yuan! despite the rocky start, their shared transmigration and experiences led them to form a closer relationship, and Shen Yuan was his best friend. he knew him wholly, both in his bitchiness of Cucumber-bro of their old lives, and in the snarky-masquerading-as-pretentious SQQ he was in their new lives. He knew him as a whole of Shen Yuan, not as Xiao Jiu, or as the original goods.

and also, both he and Shen Yuan had discovered they both liked some similar songs during one of their weekly private meetings a few weeks ago, while Shen Yuan was there under the guise of planning their eventual escapes, but was actually just drinking up all his wine and ransacking his snacks.

he's got this! (he hopes.) (he would quite not like his bro to die from an unwakeable coma.)

confidently, with incredulous stares following him, he walks into the room and sits at shen yuan's bedside. and proceeded to sing, as smoothly as he could, a vocaloid love song. if nothing else, it might shock Shen Yuan awake to hear a random ass vocaloid song in his dreams. the lyrics are actually pretty sweet and soft, but he can't stop imagining the music behind it, making it funnier than it should be to sing it.

[Shen Yuan, whose dreamscape has become completely synchronized to his current living conditions and so he dreams of the serene bamboo hut: *sitting at his table with binghe pouring him more tea* *sudden hatsune fucking miku disturbing the atmosphere*

Shen Yuan: 👁️👄👁️]

while he tries not to giggle as the song comes to an end, the stares of the other peak lords boring into his back from the doorway (he can just hear them thinking, "yqy and lqg couldn't wake him up but you think you can?" but maybe that's just his imagination. or maybe they think the song is shitty, what does he know--), shen yuan's eyes flutter open.

airplane, who didn't think this would actually actually work (though he hoped), gapes at him. Shen Yuan, eyes half lidded from sleep, gazes back.

"uh..."

"The everlasting dreams flower, really? That was a really good plot line, can't believe you, ah," Shen Yuan yawns, "dropped it in favor of more papapa as always, you shitty author." He can't catch a break. Why did he wake this guy up again?

"he's awake!?" multiple voices cry out.

THUMP. yqy has fainted.

they both have forgotten their audience. liu qingge has goes outside to punch a tree. the other peak lords are in various states of disarray, disbelief, and discomfort. liu minyan has appeared out of nowhere to take notes. mu qingfāng rolls his eyes and comes in to check shen-shenanigans's meridians.

"Can't believed that shit worked, honestly," Shen Yuan says, eyeing one of the older disciples try to drag YQY to a cot. he is starting to rouse. "hatsune miku, really?"

"aw! well now you know how deeply and purely I love you, shixiong!"

THUMP. YQY has fainted again.

more sounds of breaking trees from outside. mu qingfāng warily calls out a warning to avoid his good medicinal trees, thanks.

after a while of conversation, with eyes closing a bit once more, from exhaustion, rather than the plant poison, Shen Yuan gives Shang Qinghua a small smile. As his eyes flutter shut again, he says, "I love you too, bro."

[wroetolando]

𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍-𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where she's the only mechanic who truly understands his car, and he's the only driver who truly sees her

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: formula - labrinth

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.��。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The McLaren pit was a flurry of motion, a carefully choreographed chaos of engineers, mechanics, and pit crew members working in perfect harmony. The air reeked of oil and rubber, the sound of impact wrenches and radio traffic blending into the background cacophony that had long ago faded into background noise for you.

But in the noise, in the dozens of people who collaborated to make McLaren's car able to fight at the front, your attention was always on one person.

Lando Norris.

Not because he was the star driver. Not because his face was plastered on billboards or millions of supporters chanted his name every race weekend.

But because he was yours. Though neither of you ever said it out loud.

You'd been with McLaren's team for three years, rising from junior mechanic to become one of the lead engineers on Lando's vehicle. You knew that car inside and out like the back of your hand—every shudder, every subtle imbalance in the suspension, every adjustment that would make it hum through the corners just the way he liked it.

And Lando knew that too.

That's why, when something did not feel right, he relied on you to fix it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Thursday – Media Day

The weekend was yet to start, but the paddock was already buzzing. Fans swirled around the entrance, cameras snapped as drivers came in, and reporters filled the media pen, waiting to get their soundbites.

You were concealed in the garage, reviewing the setup notes, your hands already smudged with grease despite the fact that it was early in the day.

You felt his presence before you saw him.

Lando had always possessed this energy—a presence that filled a room even when he had nothing to say. He strode into the garage in his McLaren polo, sunglasses perched on his head, and an effortless smirk on his lips.

"Look busy," he teased, resting against the workbench beside you.

"Unlike some people, I actually do work," you shot back, not looking up as you double-checked the tire pressures.

He clutched his chest in feigned indignation. "Excuse me, I do work extremely hard."

You finally looked at him, an eyebrow lifted. "Oh yeah? Sitting through media commitments and signing posters is exhausting, huh?"

"It's brutal," he theatrically sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

You rolled your eyes, but a little smile was playing on your lips. This was how it always was with Lando—teasing, banter, effortless back-and-forths that had started the moment you'd met.

But something was off today.

You noticed it in the way he lingered a moment longer. The way his fingers drummed against the table, a restless energy building in him.

"You good?" you asked, head tilting.

He hesitated.

It was only for a moment, but you caught it.

And then, in a flash, the smirk was back. "Always."

You didn't believe he meant it. But you let it go—for the moment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Friday – Free Practice

Something was off with the car.

You knew it before Lando even said anything over the radio.

You watched the telemetry, how the speed traces weren't lining up properly, how he was losing time in the high-speed corners. Then his voice crackled over the comms.

"Yeah, something doesn't feel right. Rear's not stable through Turns 8 and 10."

You exchanged a glance with another of the engineers as you grabbed your tablet and walked towards the garage door. You were waiting there by the time Lando pulled in and climbed out of the car.

He ripped off his helmet, running a hand through his sweaty curls, and scanned the room looking for you immediately.

"Talk to me," you called out over the noise of the garage.

"Feels like the rear's stepping out more than usual. Can't get the rotation I need."

You nodded, already running through possible causes in your head. "Okay, let's check the suspension setup. Could be a balance issue."

Lando didn't argue. He never did with you.

Because he knew you'd get it right.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Saturday – Qualifying

Tension was palpable in the air.

This was what it had all been building toward. The entire garage was locked in, eyes fixed on the timing screens, heart rates rising with each lap.

Lando was on fire.

You were on the pit wall, headset on, fists gripped on your tablet as he stitched the track together immaculately. His sector times were improving. If he could keep this up, he'd be in the fight for pole.

Then—

"!"

His voice came over the radio as the car nipped at the exit of Turn 14.

Your heart missed a beat.

The McLaren wobbled, taking the slide, but it had lost him time. He crossed the line—P4.

Good, but not good enough.

You ripped off your headset, exhaling sharply. He could've been on the front row. That mistake had cost him.

As he climbed out of the car, his jaw was tight, annoyance clear in the way he tore off his gloves. But as soon as his eyes locked with yours, some of that tension eased.

You didn't say anything immediately. You just kept looking at him, unspoken comprehension between you.

Then, finally—

"We'll get them tomorrow," you whispered.

His shoulders relaxed. He nodded. "Yeah. We will."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Sunday – Race Day

The Monaco Grand Prix was ruthless.

Year after year, it was chaos. Crashes, strategy gambles, pit stop drama—it was never an easy race.

And today was no different.

You were on the pit wall, gripping the rail as Lando fought lap after lap, hanging onto P3 for dear life. His tires were going. The Ferrari behind him was closing in. Your heart was in your mouth each time he came through the tunnel.

Five laps to go.

Three.

Final lap.

He took the line—P3. Podium.

The garage erupted. Cheers, hugs, high-fives. But you barely heard any of them since you were already heading towards parc fermé.

By the time Lando emerged from the car, champagne still dripping from his suit, his eyes were only looking for one person.

You.

And once he saw you, he didn't waste any time.

Helmet off, curls wet with sweat, race suit undone at the top—he didn't care about the cameras, the thousands of people watching. He just walked right up to you and pulled you into his arms.

It was quick, barely a second, but the way he held on to you—his forehead against yours, his breathing rough with adrenaline—you knew.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice rough.

"For what?" you whispered in return.

He pulled back slightly, only enough to be able to look at you properly. His hand was still at your waist, fingers drawing along the fabric of your team uniform.

"For believing in me," he said simply.

Your heart missed a beat.

And in a moment, it did not matter that you were before the world. That the cameras were capturing this moment. That there were rules governing how close a driver and a mechanic could be.

Because this?

This was yours.

And nothing—not even Formula 1—could ever take that away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[ozzgin]

Monstertober & Yantober Day 3: AI, Secret Collection ft. Yan!Android

content: gender neutral reader, AI yandere, suggestive

"I'm truly sorry for troubling you like this", your synthetic partner repeats, visibly embarrassed.

You pat his shoulder reassuringly.

"Hey, it's faster than going through all the security checks at the border. I may be no Spacer engineer, but I can still have a look at your kernel to check what’s wrong."

You wait for the screen to load as the man sits patiently next to you, adjusting the cables presently plugged into the nape of his neck.

"Just a lot of overhead, really", you conclude, glancing over the processes. "Nothing a little decluttering can't fix."

One folder immediately catches your attention. It's not part of the system management, yet it seems to occupy a tremendous amount of memory space. You hum to yourself, deciding to investigate.

The files flood your screen: thousands upon thousands of documents, photos, and videos of you. Personal information, family albums, images taken from your investigations, as well as recordings of your intimate moments, followed by written commentary. It appears that your romantic escapades with the android coworker have been thoroughly analyzed for improved efficiency.

"Did you record every time we-"

Your computer goes black for a brief moment. The incriminating folder is now locked under a big, bold warning: unauthorized access.

"I'm afraid that's rather confidential, (Y/N)", he retorts, avoiding your gaze. "It is my private collection."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, going over the sheer madness you just witnessed.

"I'm not that hard to satisfy", you finally remark, still hung on the essay pages regarding your sexual arousal.

"Not at all, no", he says as a faint grin forms on his face. "I simply prefer to be thorough in my research. You will agree, I hope, that no other partner could possibly compete with my performance.

That is to say, I have merely ensured that I am the best fit for you."

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [Yandere Android]

[yeyinde]

Been on something lately with Price + someone more reserved/avoidant when it comes to sex.

Someone who doesn't have any real, tangible desire for intimacy. Romance. Outside of a few summers spent rutting against their pillow, chasing the spiralling ends of a hazy daydream with their fingers stuffed inside their panties, chanting be normal, this is normal, you want this in their head as they think of vague shapes, shadowed anatomy; a featureless silhouette rutting between their thighs, they just don't have that drive to pursue something like this.

And it's over drinks when it comes out (too many, of course; but Price has this way of needling under your skin, patronising you with just a shallow lift of his brow whenever you order water: a sly, subtle challenge in blue, one you feel obligated to meet—). Tipsy, loose lipped, you confess that you just don't really get the appeal. It's fine, you whine, fingers tapping out an off-rhythm beat on the worn wood. When it's just fantasy, but the idea of it, of sex and romance and everything else that comes after is a little too much.

A shame, he says, but he listens. Takes in your words with a gruff counter of his own, volleying back his own desires until they swallow yours whole.

And when he finds out you never really learned how to touch yourself—something he finds truly sad, detestable, really—he takes it upon himself to teach you the wonders of it. Of sex.

(with him. Only him, of course. Because you not wanting to fuck anyone else is perfectly fine. Great, even. But not wanting to fuck him? Well. He'll fix that character flaw with his own hand.)

He takes you home. Drunk little thing. Can't even handle your liquour, mm? He's really gotta do everything for you, doesn't he? But you go willingly, stumbling after him like a little puppy until he pulls you down on his lap, back flush against his broad chest, and slips his hand down your pants. Shush, don't worry, doll. Just relax. He'll show you what you're missing out on.

Bullies desire, want, into you with the rough slide of his hand, cooing mockingly in your ear when your body reacts to his touch. See? told you you'd get nice and wet for me, mm? Now, let's make this pretty pussy cum, love. Shush, don't fight it. Just give in. That's a good girl—

He sees you as something he can mould. Break. Tame.

A pretty project to force into the role he wants with every fibre of his being: a wife. In the truest sense of the word too because as much as he wants an adorable little mantelpiece to put behind stained glass, worship when it's convenient for him to do so, he wants someone to mould their existence around him. Soft edges to his harder ones. Kisses on his forehead before he leaves for work. Dinner on the table when he gets home. Knees locked tight to your ears, waiting for his cock every night.

And you're the perfect fit for the role, aren't you? Sweet girl. Just needed a firmer hand, didn't you? Someone to tell you what to do, what you need.

There's nothing wrong with you, he says, slipping his thick fingers through your swollen, wet folds, pads tight against your sopping, pulsing hole. It's more cum than slick that leaks out of you now, and he hums around an exhale when he pushes it back in, feeling the way your body responds. Fluttering, flexing, trying to pull him in deeper. Reacting to his touch perfectly.

Like you were made for him—

"Jus' needed me to come along and give you what you needed, mm? Don't worry, I'll take care of you from now on."

[littlelovelunette]

Sevika and a pregnant reader? Reader feels self-conscious about how her body has changed so Sevika has to fix that (smut please)

Little Bump

Contains smut, oral, pregnancy sex

You knew Sevika adored your baby bump because she'd stay up most of the night talking to it which you thought was a little ridiculous.

But did you like it?

Nuh-uh, I mean yeah it was sweet and all that you were carrying a symbol of your love with Sevika inside of your body, a little human of your own— but the stretch marks and body image issues it came with wasn't so fun afterall.

Although you were partially aware something like this would've happened because of all the darn pregnancy books you binged through, let's just say it's not the easiest when slapped onto your face at the worst possible moment ever.

Sevika noticed the way your gaze lingered a while too long on the marks on your stomach and breasts as you started slowly dressing for the day.

"What's up, hun?" She asked and looked your way with a tender gaze only reserved for you and nobody else... Except for Isha, of course.

You tried your best to smile anyway and brushed it off with a simple "Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. I saw the way you looked at your body. It felt... Wrong." Sevika said and put down the book she was reading, taking her reading glasses off too, and settling both objects down on the coffee table.

She moved her boot adorned feet down from the table and walked upto you, muscular arm draping around you from behind like a blanket of warmth.

Her metal prosthetic clinked softly behind you, grounding her imposing presence. "Talk to me."

You sighed and tried to shake it off, "It's nothing, 'Vika, please, don't sweat it."

"Love." Sevika said in a warning tone, hand still gently caressing your baby bump making you smile at the sight. She was completely entranced by her unborn daughter already. "We agreed to be honest with each other." Sevika said, her voice like a soothing balm on your aching insecurities. "I tell you how many drinks I had and you tell me all the thoughts you have, honestly."

You chuckled at her comparison. She truly was a ray of sunshine behind her tough exterior.

You looked down at the floor for a bit before looking back up at her. "I just don't feel pretty. I have these stupid marks all over my thighs, ass and stomach. It's so—"

"So pretty." Sevika said and ran her finger over the stretch mark on your stomach making your breath hitch a little. "I love them. They're like thunderbolts." Sevika grinned like a satisfied child, hands still tracing your stretch marks before slowly coming up to cup your breasts. "And look they've grown too."

"Sevika..." You whisper and gasp a little when you feel her squeeze your swollen mounds making a little bit of breast milk seep out.

You giggled watching Sevika fawn over your plumper chest before she easily picked you up, and put you on the bed. "I can't have my wife feel bad for her own body, yknow, your body does wonders." Sevika knelt down, gently parting your legs to gain access to your sensitive pussy.

"Are you sure we should be having sex?" Your voice was quiet and vulnerable when you asked her but the way Sevika held you so gently as if you could break any moment was enough reassurance that she wouldn't be rough with you.

Sevika gave you a subtle nod with a little smile that followed, saying, "If anything hurts, tell me and I will stop." She gave your waist a small squeeze of reassurance.

"That's what you told me all those times before you didn't stop. You just kept it going." You said and smiled down at her, her chin pressed against the folds of your cunt which were pretty much already wet at the mere thought of having sex while you're pregnant.

"And do you say that didn't feel good?" Sevika narrowed her eyes although it was an exaggeration of her playful suspicion, she knew that you liked it because you were moaning her name right after and cumming around her cock quite instantly.

"I mean, no, no," you laughed a little, the corners of your eyes crinkling, "Not at all."

"Then let me make you feel good," Sevika leaned in and licked up on your pussy making you gasp and grab the sheets tightly. Her mouth worked diligently on your wet cunt, sucking up the wet mess you had become at the mere thought of being touched by her.

Sevika held your thighs open, her touch surprisingly gentle as she sucked your clit in her mouth, suckling hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"F-f-fuck," your mouth opened and closed, moaning feeling her tongue tease your cunt. Sevika pulled back and spat on your pussy before she resumed licking and sucking. She pushed her long tongue inside your cunt, stuffing her face into your cunt as if she didn't know oxygen.

"S-Sevika, it feels so good," you said, tears appearing in your eyes as you felt the waves of pleasure shoot up from your needy pussy.

Hot tears began to stream down your face as Sevika licked and sucked on your cunt, your body shuddered. "C-cumming..." You said, your fingers tangling in Sevika's hair and stuffing her face further onto your heat as you came on her face.

Sevika pulled away, face drenched in your liquids, "So much for not wanting sex," Sevika rubbed your baby bump, kissing at the stretch marks and whatever other marks you had on your body.

"Just stay with me now," you whispered, exhausted. Sevika smiled and sunk into the mattress beside you, spooning you, "Will do."

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[sai-int]

i loved those headcanons!! could i maybe request a full drabble of ddlg with simon? 👀

-🐇 (you know who i am)

i hope this is okay!!! simon calls you mama and i'm firm in that belief.

cw : 18+, f!bratty!reader, soft dom!simon, thigh humping, dirty talk, simon 'mama' riley

you've been testing him all day.

it started small—ignoring his texts a little longer than usual, rolling your eyes when he told you to be careful before you went out. Then came the attitude, the clipped responses, the way you huffed when he so much as looked at you too long.

he deciides that maybe he did something wrong—maybe you need some space. he changes his clothes, grabs hus headphones, and goes on a run for two hours. he wracks his mind, thinking of how he could've upset you or what he could've done wrong. truly, he can't figure it out—he just has to hope you'd be willing to talk when he came home.

you're not, and he could see it the second he walked through the door.

the way you're curled up on the couch, arms crossed, lips already pressed into a stubborn little pout. he doesn’t say anything at first, just watches, setting his things down, rolling the tension out of his shoulders.

you don’t look at him. don’t say hi like you normally do, don’t come over and press your face into his chest, wrapping yourself around him like you always do when he comes home.

he sighs.

“what’s this, then?”

you shrug, eyes fixed on the tv. “nothing.”

his head tilts, gaze narrowing slightly. “don’t look like nothin’. been brattin’ all day.”

you don’t answer, but your fingers twitch in your lap, betraying you.

simon hums, slow, thoughtful, toeing off his shoes before crossing the room. when he reaches the couch, he stands in front of you, blocking your view of the tv, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“c’mon, mama. out with it."

you scowl, curling in on yourself.

“i said it’s nothing.”

and oh, you’re testing him now, aren’t you?

he exhales slow through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. it’s been a long fucking day, and the last thing he wants to deal with is this little attitude you’ve cooked up for no reason. but he knows you—knows that if you’re acting like this, there is a reason. it's his job to figure it out.

you shift when he stays quiet, gaze briefly flicking up to his before looking elsewhere. he’s still looking at you, gaze heavy, jaw set.

“got somethin’ y'wanna say t'me?”

you swallow, shifting again.

“no.”

he just looks down at you with crossed arms, saying nothing. he knows you'll crack and fess up because you can’t hold out against him forever—you never can—and after another long, unbearable pause, you finally cave.

“just…” you huff, cheeks burning as you look away. “just missed you a lot, is all.”

and there it is. his expression softens—just a little.

“missed me, eh?” his voice is lower now, smoother, the sharp edge fading into something warmer.

you nod, arms still wrapped around yourself. he exhales slow, then reaches down, hooking his fingers under your chin and tilting your face up.

“should’a just said tha’, lovie.”

your lower lip wobbles slightly, and he knows—knows you’ve been wound up too tight, knows you were waiting for him to give you some attention and put you back where you belong.

“c’mere.” he sits on the couch, legs spread wide as he pats his thigh.

you move instinctively, climbing into his lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as his arms wrap tight around you.

“there’s m’sweet girl.”

his big hands move slowly, tracing circles into the soft flesh of your thigh, creeping higher, higher. every brush of his fingers against your skin sends a pulse of heat through you, makes you shift in his lap, makes your breath hitch just a little higher in your throat.

he notices, of course.

“what’s wrong, mama?” he rasps in your ear, his voice is all low and teasing, laced with something thick and syrupy, something dangerous. “you’re squirming.”

you make a small, frustrated sound, pressing your face back into his neck, trying to hide—but simon isn’t having that.

his fingers curl around your jaw, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him.

“ah-ah.” his lips just barely graze yours, his breath warm and steady while yours is anything but. “you’re a big girl, hmm? use y’words, tell daddy what y’want.”

your body reacts before your mind can catch up. your hands grip onto his hoodie, your thighs slotting between his, a whimper slipping past your lips as you grind your clothed cunt on his thigh.

“words.” his grip is firm, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, stilling your movements, reminding you who’s in control. his other hand presses against your hip, holding you in place, a low hum vibrating in his chest as he watches you squirm.

your breath stutters, hips twitching beneath his hold. he’s so warm, so solid, the heat of his thigh burning through the thin fabric of your shorts, making your head spin.

“please,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it.

his fingers dig in harder.

“please what?”

you whimper, toes curling as his grip tightens, as he leans in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“y'were bein’ a brat all day, sweetheart. think y'can act up and then get what y'want without askin’ proper?”

your cheeks burn, frustration bubbling in your chest, making you pull at his hoodie, trying to move your hips against him, to chase the friction you need.

your breath comes out in a shaky exhale, your thighs trembling around his.

“please, daddy,” you breathe, voice thin, needy. “wanna feel you, wanna move, please.”

his reaction is instant.

his grip loosens just enough to let you move, to let you grind against him slow and sweet, the firm muscle of his thigh pressing just right against your aching core.

“there’s m'girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with approval, his lips finally brushing against yours—just a ghost of a kiss, just enough to make you whine, to make you chase after him.

his big paws guide your movements, controlling the pace, making sure you feel every little bit of friction, every slow, drawn out drag of fabric against your sopping cunt.

his hands slide up, gripping your waist, helping you move. he shifts beneath you, gripping your hips, dragging you to sit atop his clothed cock.

“fuck, love,” he mutters, his fingers pressing into your skin, voice dropping lower. “y’feel that?”

you do. he's so big and hard beneath you, the heat of him seeping through the fabric, the friction sending sparks through your veins. each little bump of your cunt makes his cock jump—he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from cumming so soon.

“hmm, bet that feels good, doesn't it baby?”

you nod, your breath shuddering as your nails grip onto his strong shoulders. he grins.

“s’cute how shy y’get, can feel y’drippin’ f’me right now.”

his hands slide up, under the hem of your top, his thumbs grazing over your ribs, right beneath your perked tits.

“all that attitude earlier, ‘n now look at you.”

his lips find your jaw, teeth scraping lightly, his hands guiding your hips to grind harder, faster against his cock.

“so fuckin’ sweet when y’where y’belong, huh?”

his voice is rough, hungry, his breath hot against your flushed skin, and when he rocks you down against him again, when you let out the softest little whimper, he groans.

“go on, sweetheart. take what y’need.”

[adamsrcnan]

i just think that jerejean's first kiss should be soooo heavy and weighted and drawn out like i want them to be so close in each other's space and for jeremy's eyes to be fixed on jean's mouth. for him to slowly lick his lips and then for jean to just gently take jeremy's chin in his fingers and tilt his head up so he looks jean in the eyes. i want jeremy to blink so softly while jean's eyes search his with a silent question of "may i?" and jeremy's eyes to brighten in response while his pupils dilate and he nods ever so slightly. then jean leans in and he's so hesitant because he doesn't really know what to do here (he's never had a proper first kiss). jeremy's eyes slip closed when jean's thumb lifts and brushes against the corner of his mouth now and he can feel his breath against his cheek. and jean is lost staring at the freckles scattered over jeremy's cheeks and his nose and his light brown eyelashes brushing against his skin and then jeremy lets out a breathy "jean". and then jean is pressing his lips against jeremy's and it's a little clumsy, maybe a little harsher than it needs to be, the force of it knocking jeremy off balance that he lets out a little noise of surprise and stumbles back. but jean's hand is there in a second spread flat against the small of jeremy's back and pulling him closer. and jeremy's hands are fisted in jean's shirt and he lifts one to jean's cheek and jean jumps a little at the contact. but then he relaxes into jeremy's palm as jeremy strokes his jaw and takes control of the kiss. making it lighter and softer and jean sighs into it. jeremy feels it deep in his chest because it's the most pleasant sound jeremy has ever heard coming from jean. because he's heard him whimper when he's having nightmares, he's heard him grunting when he takes a hit on the court, he's heard the way his breath stutters and he sounds like he's choking when he's trying so hard not to panic when he's triggered. but he's never heard him sound this soft and relaxed before and he can't wait to keep making him sound this way. and it hits him so hard he has to pull back a little to catch his breath and jean's eyes are closed, his eyebrows furrowed and he looks like he's a little in pain or scared to open his eyes. they're pressed so close jeremy can feel the way his heart is racing and he nudges jean's nose with his own. and jean's eyes flash open and he looks down at jeremy like he's seeing him for the first time and jeremy smiles really wide then and jean's lips twitch and his cheeks lift and he's smiling too. jeremy laughs and then they're both leaning in again and this time it's better, more gentle, more passionate and neither one can get enough and everything starts and stops where their mouths meet. and jeremy doesn't really care what happens to him next because now he knows how it feels to kiss jean moreau and nothing is going to get better than this anyway. while jean feels his heart lurch in his chest in the most pleasant way and he thinks that maybe he's a little glad he's still breathing and still here because now he knows how it feels to truly feel alive and be loved.

[yazzwrites6962]

Chaos and Cure ♡ Jinx (Arcane)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Arcane Jinx x GN!Handy!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This could be interpreted as a platonic relationship, or the buildup to something romantic. It's up to you! I do not own any characters/images!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You are a quiet, handy, hardworking Zaunite who is used to fixing up broken tech and gadgets. Your life changes completely when, one day, the infamous Jinx storms into your shop.

Word Count: 1137

Warnings: Mild mentions of exlopsives and destruction, mentions of trauma

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The first time you met her, it was quiet. Not in the literal sense, of course. Nothing about Jinx is quiet. You were in your workshop, huddled over a broken panel from some long-abandoned tech. Suddenly, the door slammed open like a gunshot.

You didn't flinch. Not because you were brave, but because you had grown used to Zaun's chaos crashing into your life uninvited. That's just how things were. However, the girl who stormed in wasn't just disorderly. She was the embodiment of madness.

Bright blue hair, wild eyes, and a grin that sat crookedly on her face. You recognize her instantly. She's Jinx. Her reputation is infamous, but nothing prepares you for how real she feels. How alive she truly is. Your mind goes silent for a moment.

"Hey gearhead, fix this!" She chirps, dropping something metal and smoking onto your worktable. The piece clatters, nearly knocking your tools to the ground.

"What is it?" You know better than to expect any sort of formal introduction, although the nickname surprises you. You also know that Jinx is mechanically brilliant. At least, from what you hear. You wonder why she can't fix the gadget herself.

"it's supposed to be a trigger mechanism." She crosses her arms, unamused by your hesitation. "It caught slightly on fire. Don't worry. It'll probably only explode if you're really bad at this."

You blink, picking up the damaged device with careful, gloved hands. The metal is warm and warped. There is a faint smell of smoke lingering in the air. You examine it thoroughly, turning it over and over in your hands.

"You overloaded it." You mutter, glancing up at her. She tilts her head, giving you an almost offended expression, like a curious crow staring at a shiny stone.

"Overloaded?!" She scoffed. "No, I improved it! Just... too much..." You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Relax, gearhead. I'm a genius! I just need someone to keep up. That's where you come in."

"Give me an hour." You smile at her dramatics before turning back to the device. "It's not unsalvageable." She raises an eyebrow; a sharp and disapproving look on her face.

"An hour? Are you that slow? I heard you were supposed good at this." So, she had heard of you from somewhere. Her tone is a bit rude, but it doesn't seem to carry any real malice.

"Do you want it fixed, or do you want it fast?" You reply without missing a beat. Her laughter bounces off the walls of your dainty little shop.

"Alright, gearhead. An hour." She chuckles, headed for the door. "Don't blow up!" You don't dignify that with a response. You're already focused on disassembling the smoking pieces of the device.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Jinx returned an hour later, and then she never really left.

It started small. More gadgets needing repair and weapons she swore shouldn't be jamming. You wonder, at first, why someone like her would come to you. Surely, she could handle all these simple repairs herself. Yet, she keeps showing up, slamming the door like she owns the place and sprawling across your workshop like a cat who refuses to leave.

Her presence is overwhelming. She chatters while you work, her voice filling every quiet corner of your shop. Sometimes, she even sings. Once, she threw a wrench at you to see if you would have any reaction.

"You're so weird." She told you one day, hanging upside down from the pipe which ran across your ceiling. "You're not really scared of me. Most people are. They treat me like a ticking bomb that could go off at any second."

"I know." You mutter without looking up from your work. You feel so opposite to her. She's loud, vibrant, and always moving. You, on the other hand, are quiet. You own a little shop on the edge of Zaun, living out your days monotonously.

"Why?" She swings back and forth, like a pendulum, watching your gentle movements with her electric eyes. "Why are you not all freaked out about me?"

"I think..." You pause, considering how you want to word your thoughts. "I think you're smarter than most people give you credit for. You're a genius, Jinx. Just like you say. Sure, maybe you're a little reckless sometimes, but I've seen the things you bring me. The things you make. I doubt most people can dream up designs like yours."

She is silent. For the first time since you met the girl, there is a long stretch of silence between you two. You look up from your work, worried. You see something shift in her expression, like a crack in a mask you didn't know she was wearing. She looks vulnerable. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"You like me." She smirks, pointing a finger at you as if she were accusing you of something. "You think I'm pretty and smart and you like me."

"I think you need to be more careful." You chuckle, returning to the gadget you were repairing. "Someday you may end up blowing yourself up, along with everything else."

"Maybe that's the point." She mutters under her breath, so softly that you almost don't hear it, but you do. You choose not to say anything for the meantime, turning back to your work as silence once again stretches between you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Over time, you became her calm. You don't know when it happened, or why. Jinx storms in and out of your life like a hurricane. Yet, you are fond of those rare, quiet moments when you get to see glimpses of something softer. Something she doesn't show to anyone else.

One night, she sits on the floor of your workshop, surrounded by blueprints and half-finished creations. For once, you have nothing to do but keep her company. You watch her tinker with a clockwork bomb, trusting that she won't blow you both to pieces.

"You really think I'm smart?" She asks suddenly. You take a deep breath in, leaning back in your uncomfortable wooden chair.

"I do. Of course I do. I wouldn't lie about that. I wouldn't lie to you at all, Jinx." You say calmly. She doesn't respond right away. Instead, she picks at a smear of grease on her palm. Her expression is impossible to read.

"Everyone else thinks I'm just crazy." She whispers, looking up at you. There's no teasing in her eyes. No crooked grin. She doesn't feel like an insane criminal. Just a girl who doesn't know how to take a compliment. "You're weird."

"And you're a genius. Don't forget that." You smile. She says nothing else, but you can see the soft smile on her lips. The real smile. You wish you could stay that moment, where the chaos feels a little quieter.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'yearning' - 18+ old man logan x gn!reader

summary: you're not his to think of, but he thinks of you anyway. OR old man logan jerks off in his limo thinking of you. (1k words) tags: masturbation, kinda angsty, logan doesn't think he deserves you, whiny and desperate logan, he lowkey whimpers a little, he imagines fucking you in different positions.

you're not his to think of, but he thinks of you anyway.

parked where no one will find him, engine switched off, interior sheltered in darkness, logan. . . thinks. of you. about you.

he can't help it, not really. he's tried to get you out of his head, had other pretty things bouncing on his cock, but none of them you. can't admit it, got no one to admit it to anyway, that it makes him mad - a rippling rage that bubbles beneath the surface of his scarred skin. the kind of anger that makes your fingers twitch for something, anything.

perhaps in time, logan will learn that it is not truly anger he is feeling, but yearning.

a particularly heated throb to his cock has him shifting in his seat, sighing exasperatedly as you flit through his mind. his brows flinch downwards, a scowl he wears all too well settling upon his face. he's too old for this, far too old to be indulging in some stupid fucking crush. if you could even call it that. logan wouldn't. but god, why couldn't he stop fucking thinking about you?

logan catches a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror, shooting himself a scolding look. but it's futile. he does this dance every night, fights with himself until he gives in to the thought of you.

reluctantly, with a trembling hand, he begins to palm his hardening cock. his shoulders slump in relief, head melting back against the headrest as he gives in to his desires. he's tired, but hungry, tongue swiping out to wet his lips as he works to loosen his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as though it'll help him breathe. it won't. because the tightness remains. it's deeper, more than just surface level.

nothing will set him free, he thinks, trapped in a prison of his own making. would fucking you even fix him? he doesn't know, will never know. you're not his to think about, he reminds himself.

but your name falls from his lips as his large hand cups his clothed crotch, squeezing and grinding his length against his palm. the sight must be pathetic, logan thinks, but he'll continue to indulge in this escape he's created.

it's not enough though, he needs more. fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling and shoving a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. he finds his dick, hard and ready, aching. god, it would just feel so fucking good to sink into you. he wonders how you'd sound, creating a symphony in his mind as he tries to calculate the exact pitch of your moans. you'd sing for him, sing real fuckin' loud, pulling gasps from your lips as he fucked you the way you deserve to be fucked.

logan strokes himself, long slow, agonising strokes that send shivers trickling down his spine. each pass has his thumb gliding up, brushing across his sensitive leaking tip, earning a low, rumbling groan from the back of his throat. he squeezes, his veins throbbing against his palm, free hand gripping the door handle for support as he fucks fervently into his fist.

and he imagines you, ass up, on all fours, head thrown back in ecstasy. he imagines you on your knees, those intoxicating, pleading eyes boring into his desperate gaze from below. but the imagery that really makes his knees weak is the one where you're on your back, pleading against his just out of reach lips for him to go faster while his firm hands hold your knees beside your head, folding you in half in the backseat of the limo.

"holy fuck," he grunts, a light pink flush falling across his cheeks and partly exposed chest. logan was gonna cum soon, could feel it building as his cock twitched in his harsh grip. how many times had he done this? he's lost count, because he thinks of you too often. far, far too often.

he finds himself pleading, begging into the air, hot desperate whispers and whimpers that dissipate into the clammy air of the limo. logan isn't one to beg, but with you, in these fantasies he's created. . . how can he not? you're too fuckin' perfect, too perfect, too good for him too.

the older man whines, a hopeless sound as he approaches release. wants to fill you, in whatever warm hole you'd let him, but instead here he is about to cum into his palm while thinking of you like some sort of teenager. it's stupid, this is all fucking stupid. but he can't stop.

his chest rises and falls rapidly, mouth falling open as quiet moans and filthy pleas and whispers of your name slip from his lips, bucking up into his hand at a feverish pace. his eyes flit to his own in the mirror, catching sight of his lust-filled expression and hazy eyes, but it only spurs him on, stroking his cock faster. he's in too deep.

all it takes is your face to drift into his mind one last time and he's exploding, cock spurting white hot ropes of cum across his hand, painting his suit pants. "that's it," logan groans to himself, accompanied only by fogged windows and the stillness of the night, "that's it, take my fuckin' cum. . ."

he works himself through his release, strokes slowing on his thick, cum-slicked shaft as his body relaxes. the cloud of lust at the forefront of his mind parts, leaving a bitter taste of loneliness in his mouth.

because every night he goes to bed alone, his sheets craving the scent of you, a place you'd fit so perfectly, he thinks. but he won't allow himself. it's easier this way - to keep you at a distance. so he'll remain the desperate old man getting himself off in his limo to thoughts of you just to get through the day if that's what it takes to keep himself safe. his heart's been broken more times than he can count, and he thinks. . . no, he knows once more will kill him. if he's lucky.

you're not his to think of, but he'll think of you anyway. and a dying part of himself that allows for childish things such as hope, yearns for you to think of him too.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: gn reader, non - con, kidnapping (hinted)

He's awfully gentle - and perhaps that's what you hate about him the most. The way your tears reduce him to a shell of a man, the way he holds you tenderly, like glass about to shatter from the wind. The way he looks at you - like you're the only person in his small grey world that's made of moving, breathing flesh and fragile breakable bones and splash of incoherent colour all over your cheeks. The way his irises move with feral speed when the ring on your sharp, barking laugh fills the stuffy mold - infested air with life, and his heart all but throbs out of his chest when you push him away.

He holds you at night through the nightmares and the screams, refusing to let go as you fight with all your might to break free, but it's pointless. He knows you - he's studied you, every creek and curve, every dream and fright, every single thing that makes your being tick and purr and surrender. He speaks your language, despite your best efforts to remain hidden, to remain a mystery, he's managed to slice through the protective shield of your psyche, of your most intimate fears, and he's made himself at home in your arms.

It's odd - perverse even, you realize in rare moments of rationale, how used you are now to waking up with his warmth inside of you, nested neatly between your folds; whispering soft little nothings in your flushed ear. Keeping you at the realm between sweet dreams and bitter reality, making you question every fluttering touch, every butterfly kiss against your throat. You're not sure what's real anymore, hot, throbbing pressure pulsating in the middle of your core, the honey nectar dripping down your thighs, back arching in a pleasure - fueled spasm so erratic you're left breathless. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, followed by guilt - ridden shame in a ruthless cycle you have no hope of escaping anymore.

To think it used to be different all those months ago when he first took you in. You would scratch and bite, kicking at will - acting as crazy as possible in hopes he'd find you too difficult to keep. But alas, his gaze never hardened, lips mouthing words of adoration in respond to your countless insults.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, y-you - you maniac!" You'd hiss through clenched teeth, sweat forming under your brows as your whole body stiffened before his naked figure hovering over you, strong muscled arms keeping you close to his chest in an awkward mockery of a hug.

"Shh, I know you're scared, my love." He'd caress your hair softly, running his fingers through your wet messy locks, cooing as if you're a cornered animal. "I know you're frightened, but I am not going to hurt you, precious. I love you more than you could possibly imagine. You don't know how long I've dreamt of embracing you." He'd press hot, feverish kisses down your collarbone, stroking your numb fingers until you eventually unclenched your fists. "Just like that, you're doing so good for me, angel, so fucking beatiful for me, just lay back and let me show how much I adore you."

You'd relax your hips slowly, keeping your eyes fixed to the ceiling - yielding to the inevitable, yet making a last pitiful attempt to hide the growing heat between your legs.

"You're so perfect, angel." He'd say, slowly undressing you. "I need to feel you against me. I hope you can forgive me one day - but here, before you, I am just a man. Without you my life would lose all meaning, I can't let you go. Forgive me. Love me, please."

And somehow deep within your heart, you wonder if you truly can.

[pigfacedbitch]

Let's Break Up (I)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part II is composed of Leo, Frank, and Will.

Jason Grace

"Let's break up."

Jason is formally trained to remain calm and level-headed in the most drastic of situations ever since he was young.

So if you're expecting him to look surprised or upset, he won't.

Don't be fooled though, he may look like he's listening as you explain but deep inside this electric boy is panicking! 😂

"Okay, Jason. What in Jupiter's name have you done to make (Y/N) upset? Think! THINK!"

It might take a while for Jason to respond because he is torn between asking you what he can do to fix it, what he did wrong, or just be desperate and beg you to stay with him.

So he does what any Roman would do in his place. Accept his fate.

He fixes his composure and coughs a little to avoid his voice from cracking.

"If that's what you think is best, I understand-"

"It's just a prank, love."

"Thank the gods."

You never knew your boyfriend could sigh that hard.

Jason laughs in relief and hugs you tightly, like he wasn't thinking of crying his heart out and eating ice cream alone in the Zeus cabin later.

He'll never tell you that though.

Percy Jackson

"I want to break up."

"Nope."

Percy just can't see the two of you breaking up. No matter how much he tries, he knows it's literally imposible.

He already has a list of plans; when he will propose, where to get married, where you'll spend the rest of your lives together, how many children you two will have, and their names. Even the number of pets allowed in your future home.

But you don't give up easily.

"What do you mean, no? Isn't that my decision?"

"OUR decision, (Y/N). And I say no."

"But-"

"No buts, baby. If you're tired of this relationship then rest. We'll try again in the morning."

You just pout in defeat, taking a bite of the blue chocolate chips cookies his mother made for him before he left for Camp Half-Blood.

He smirks like the handsome devil he is, pulling you into his arms and lays his head on your shoulder.

"There's no getting rid of me, (Y/N). You're stuck with me forever."

He doesn't notice the small smile on your face, preferring not to have it any other way.

Nico Di Angelo

"I was thinking of breaking up."

He would shadow travel even before you could say another word.

Just YEETS HIMSELF OUT😌

Good luck trying to find him because he would be nowhere to be found. You already asked everyone yet nobody knows where he is.

Hours passed, no sign of him. You got truly worried that you can't even fall asleep.

You were just laying on your bed, staring into nothing when you hear a knock on your window.

It's Jules-Albert, holding a bag of McDonalds with your favorite foods and drink. It also has a note.

"Just think about what you said with a full stomach. You do stupid shit when you're hungry."

You don't know if you should be offended or laugh.

Still in your pajamas, you run to the Hades cabin and knock on his door. No one answers.

You do feel a pair of arms around your waist and cold nose nuzzling your neck.

You turn your head to kiss Nico's cheek as he leans more into you. He then whispers in your ear-

"I love you, tesoro mio. Don't scare me like that again."

Gods, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was a prank.

[h3nderyss]

you as nct 127's 9th member (headcanons)

pairing: ot8 x fem!reader . . . masterlist . . . 127 part 2 dream ver wayv ver genre: fluff a/n: romantic headcanons for each member if you were the 9th member and only girl in 127! u can imagine if ur in a secret relationship or not!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

taeyong

after long schedules he'd immediately check on you either irl or call/text to make sure you're okay, and his soft voice and concern literally making u melt.

he gets soso shy from ur compliments, usually laughs it off meanwhile it's stuck on replay in his head for the rest of the day..

he'd fix ur hair during photoshoots and pretends it's professionalism while his fingers linger a little longer..!

customizes some choreos so u guys are purposely together! he sometimes says it's "a pure coincidence"???

i feel like he'd bake cookies for u. then say the members helped. but it truly was all him.

during meetings he'd sometimes lose focus bc he's distracted by u!

during your alone times in the practice room, you'd find romantic and sweet notes taeyong had made hidden in your bag

i want to say he's the king of words of affirmation.

johnny

teaser. but as soon as u guys are alone, his teases get softer and more flirty.

DEF the type to pull a random cheesy ass pickup line out of the blue. "did it hurt? ... when u fell from heaven." (THOSE kinds)

purposely shows off his strength to u during practice, lifting heavy props as if it was nothing

if he notices u haven't drank water in a while during practice or before rehearsals or WHENEVER, he'd actually place a drink in ur hand and go "gotta keep my girl hydrated." JBJSJSBDS??

always insist on walking u home or offering to stay at his dorm if it's late. he wants u to be safe!

calls u late at night to yap sometimes, he loves to hear u laugh

pls steal his hoodie, he might act like he doesn't care but trust me, he loves it

always manages to find a way to sit next to u during interviews or flights

yuta

he just likes calling u "pretty girl" so casually? how dare he.

surprises u with small gifts! like a hairtie or hairpin, he loves when u do different things w ur hair

he'd stay close to u in group activities to ensure ur comfortable and feel included (my sweetie pie)

walking anywhere in public if there was a mob of fans, you will ALWAYS be in front of him. he needs to make sure ur safe at all times.

he'd compliment ur stage outfits. a lot. most of the time he can't hold back his smile!

he'd teach u japanese FOR SURE. if you suck at pronounciation, he's patient as hell, and find your mistakes actually cute.

loooooong hugs if ur feeling down/upset!!!!!

lowkey steal ur phone to take selfies of himself (idk??)

loves deep late-night convos abt life and dreams and allat, he'd throw in a little "you're part of my dreams too."

doyoung

always always always notices when ur feeling down, literally offers u ur fav snack or drink!

stays up late rehearsing with u, soft encouragement pushing u through.

but it's hard bc.. how could u not fall asleep to his angelic voice ?!

lovesss teaching u new things, always there to guide u through new songs and choreo, his hand brushing urs every now & then

becomes surprisingly shy when the members tease him for how much he cares abt u (hes so cute ☹️)

takes lots of candid photos! if ur not confident in yourself that day, he deletes the photos upon ur request

always saves a spot next to him reserved for YOU and ONLY YOU. lowkey subtly tho, he just wants u close tbh

ur the only one that can make him flustered when u compliment his singing voice bc it's just... special to him??

he'll literally insist on giving u his scarf or coat on chilly days, as long as ur warm it's enough for him!

jaehyun

he'd offer u his jacket even if it's freezing. he doesn't care.

literally the epitome of a gentleman?! holds the door open for u, walks on the sidewalk nearest to the road, and all that shizzle.

very often watches u quietly during practice, just gazes at u honestly

loves taking u out to places quiet and intimate and shares personal stories

gets jealous. but like SO subtly, he just becomes extra attentive if he sees any sort of human flirt with u.

he'd help with vocal practices but honestly, he just does it so u guys are in a private area tg. only u two.

jungwoo

loves making u laugh and smile

subtly touching ur hand in group activites, pretending it's unintentional

idk i feel like he's an emoji guy... expect emojis every time u text!

i feel like he'd always share food with u and offers u bites like it's so natural, yall do it a lot

if u have long hair, expect him to play with it often!

also gets flustered when the members tease him abt how much he likes you!!!!!

u guys would often have movie nights, being cuddled up tg under a blanket.

he'd start serenading u just out of the blue. bursting out a random love song and singing it!

mark

don't even get me started on how many songs/raps this man has made about you.

he'd perform some of them only for u but he's madly blushing during!

he'd ask for ur opinion on everything. he values ur thoughts sooo much

becomes so tongue-tied every compliment u give him, he actually can't function ?? mark.exe has stopped working. he'd be smiling like a loser

actually gets excited if ur paired tg for interviews and projects! his energy gets so high, it's like ur presence just gives him dopamine

he gets protective when you're overwhelmed, "let me handle this, okay?" ......heh...

he'd learn ur fav songs on the guitar and play them when ur around to see ur reaction.

i think he'd be a kissy guy. he just loves giving & receiving kisses.

haechan

oh he'd flirt with u even in front of the members

pretends to steal ur food but ends up giving u the last bite

he'd poke u every now and then, laughing at ur reaction every time

playfully try to hold ur hand in group photos, either discreetly or evidently

during karaoke nights he'd sooo dramatically sing love songs to u, he loves showing off his voice since it's one of ur absolute fav things about him

surprisingly gets serious when ur upset!

we all know how offline his insta is.. literally cobwebs forming.

but somehow he'd send you a memes late at night saying "this is us" .. is this man really as chronically offline as u thought?

he'd call u at night and just say "did u miss me yet?" this cheeky man..

gets jokingly jealous if u hang out with another member for so long, "hey, i'm your favourite, right?"

he'd make sure you're NEVER left out, he'll be hanging around with u a lot