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ozzgin · 2 months ago

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Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

#yandere computer #edgar x reader #edgar electric dreams #electric dreams #ai x reader #computer x human #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #monster fucker

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joaeriz · 2 months ago

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8 LETTERS (Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader)

📎 inspired by “8 Letters” by Why Don’t We 📖 fluff | slow burn | soft romance | college AU 💌 word count: ~2.8k

summary: When Y/N is assigned to write a feature on UConn’s star player Paige Bueckers, the last thing she expects is late-night FaceTimes, secret hangouts, and catching real feelings. As the line between friendship and something more starts to blur, both girls are left wondering if they’re brave enough to say the eight letters that could change everything.

authors note: (Okay, so before you jump in—I just wanna say I had so much fun writing this. It’s honestly a mix of two of my favorite things ever: Paige Bueckers (who I adore) and “8 Letters” by Why Don’t We (which lives rent-free in my head, always). The idea hit me out of nowhere—like, what if that kind of soft, slow, “I love you but I’m scared to say it” kind of story played out between Y/N and Paige? And it just spiraled from there in the best way. I got way too emotionally invested in these two (not sorry), and writing all the cute moments, the late-night FaceTimes, and the feelings they’re both too scared to admit? Ugh. I loved every second.So if you’re into a little angst, a lot of softness, and some seriously sweet vibes, I hope this gives you butterflies the way it gave me butterflies writing it. Thanks for reading—it means so much. — Jo)

P.s: this is my first fic i have posted on here!! Im not new at writing, but let me know if you guys want more :)

You weren’t supposed to fall in love with your story subject.

That was rule number one of journalism school. No dating your interviewees, no crushes on profile pieces, no getting involved. But rules felt irrelevant the first time Paige Bueckers smiled at you like you were more than another face with a notepad.

Your assignment was simple—write a semester-long feature on the UConn women’s basketball team for the student paper. Paige, naturally, was the center of the piece. A star on and off the court. Already a national name. Every sports journalist dreamed of covering her.

You were supposed to remain objective.

Instead, you were falling for her.

Hard.

—

It started with a dead recorder.

Your first real conversation wasn’t planned—unless you count fate as a planner. You’d been huddled near the sideline at practice, trying to record a quote from one of the assistant coaches when your recorder sputtered out and died mid-sentence. You swore under your breath and slapped it, like that ever helped.

Paige had been walking by, sipping on a water bottle, and stopped. “Need backup?”

You looked up, startled. “Only if you’ve got a time machine.”

She smiled. “Nope. But I’ve got the Voice Memos app.”

She handed over her phone like it was no big deal—like she hadn’t just offered you her lifeline. You blinked. “You trust a random reporter with your phone?”

“You don’t seem like the type to scroll through texts.” She leaned in with a smirk. “Besides, you’ve got an honest face. And a tragic relationship with electronics.”

You laughed, cheeks heating. She stayed next to you for a few minutes, watching as you wrapped up your interview with her phone in hand. When it was over, she texted you the audio file with the message:

“Try not to let your technology trauma ruin your career.”

You responded with a lame thank-you and a joke about threatening your recorder with a hammer. You didn’t expect her to reply.

But she did.

“Violence is rarely the answer, but I’ll allow it.”

From there, it snowballed. Texts turned into full-blown threads. Threads into daily check-ins. She started sending random memes between practices—some sports-related, some completely unhinged—and you’d match her energy with cursed TikToks and sarcastic commentary.

Then came the first FaceTime.

You were editing audio at 11:47 p.m. when her name lit up your screen. Paige Bueckers is FaceTiming you.

You stared at it for a second. Then answered.

She was wrapped in a hoodie with damp hair and tired eyes, lying in bed. “Hey,” she said softly. “Didn’t wanna be alone tonight.”

That first call lasted three hours.

You talked about everything: your major, her injuries, your complicated relationship with your hometown, her fear of letting people down. She confessed that sometimes, the pressure made her want to run away to a place where no one knew her name.

You said you understood.

After that, it became routine. Late-night FaceTimes. Morning Snapchats. Study breaks where she'd call and say, “Tell me something random,” and you’d ramble about your day while she half-listened, half-dozed.

—

The first time you hung out outside of school was under the guise of an interview follow-up.

She invited you to a local coffee shop—some cozy little place with plants in every window and tables just slightly too small. You showed up with your laptop and pages of notes. Paige showed up in a hoodie and beanie, no makeup, looking infuriatingly good.

You talked for two hours.

Only twenty minutes was about basketball.

She paid for your drink when you weren’t looking.

“I’ll Venmo you,” you said, pretending to dig for your phone.

She just shrugged. “Nah. Call it a reporter’s hazard fee.”

After that came more not-quite-dates. Study sessions in the campus library where she never actually studied. Walks through the trail behind the dorms where she'd kick pebbles and talk about life like it was something she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

One night, she invited you to “movie night” with the team.

You showed up with snacks and nerves, expecting a whole crowd.

But it was just her.

Two mugs of hot chocolate already on the table. A blanket tossed casually over the couch. She tried to play it off. “The others bailed,” she claimed with a sheepish shrug.

She was a terrible liar.

You stayed anyway.

She fell asleep halfway through the second movie with her head on your shoulder, and you didn’t dare move.

After that night, everything shifted.

—

There were moments. God, there were moments.

The way her hand would brush yours when she passed you something and linger—just a second too long. The way she’d light up when you walked into a room, like you were the only one she’d been waiting for. How she’d say things like:

“Sometimes I forget how to breathe around you.”

And then immediately pretend it was a joke.

You wanted to say it.

You almost did—on Valentine’s Day, when she left a note in your dorm mailbox with a chocolate bar and the words “you’re my favorite notification.”

But you chickened out.

Because if she didn’t feel the same way, you’d lose her. And that possibility was more terrifying than staying quiet.

But then came the silence.

She started pulling away. Fewer texts. Missed calls. Short replies like:

“Practice ran late.” “Sorry, just tired.” “Talk soon?”

And soon became never.

Until the day it broke.

—

It was cold. Rainy. The kind of day that made everything feel heavier. You were walking past the practice facility, hood up, heart aching, when you saw her.

Paige. Alone. Leaning against the wall like she was waiting for something—or someone.

You slowed. She looked up.

“I think we should stop,” she said.

Your stomach dropped. “Stop…?”

“This. Us. I don’t know what this is to you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with not knowing.”

You blinked, throat closing.

“I’m not asking you to guess,” you managed to say.

“Well, then tell me,” she whispered. “Because I think about you all the time, and I don’t know how to make it stop. And it hurts, Y/N. It hurts not knowing if I’m just another story to you.”

And finally—finally—you said the words.

“You asked what love looks like to me.”

She held her breath.

“It looks like you. Like FaceTime calls at midnight and cold coffee on a Sunday morning. It’s how you fight through everything and still smile like you’re not carrying the weight of the world. I didn’t say it before because I was scared, but I’m more scared of losing you.”

Her eyes glossed. She stepped closer.

“You love me?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“I do.”

And when she kissed you, it was soft and shaky and real. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

—

That night, your article sat unfinished.

She lay beside you on your tiny dorm bed, her hand brushing yours under the covers, the silence between you humming with peace.

“Say it again,” she murmured.

You smiled.

“I love you.”

Eight letters.

—

It had been twenty-six days since you told Paige you loved her.

Twenty-six days since she kissed you in the rain like her world had just started spinning again.

Twenty-six days since things finally became real.

And every single one of those days had felt like waking up in the softest dream.

Being with Paige wasn’t loud or flashy—not most of the time. It was slow mornings in bed, tangled limbs and quiet whispers. It was FaceTiming just to sit in silence while you both worked. It was warm hoodies borrowed without asking, and her stealing your socks because “they’re the soft ones.”

It was peace.

One Sunday morning, you found her asleep on your couch, wearing your crewneck and hugging your stuffed animal. She’d crashed the night before after watching movies in your room, the two of you curled together on your tiny dorm bed until she got too warm and rolled onto the floor, dramatically sighing, “This is why we need a queen-sized mattress and a lease.”

You’d laughed, thinking she was joking.

Then she blinked up at you and said, totally serious, “Like… a place. You and me. Off campus. Someday.”

Your heart soared, and you tucked the idea away like a wish on a star.

Later, she sleepily mumbled, “I want you in my mornings and my nights.”

And you knew she meant it.

—

Dating Paige came with little adventures.

Like the time she surprised you with a picnic—on a Tuesday.

You’d been having the worst week: deadlines, papers, zero sleep. Paige texted you in the middle of class: “Be ready at 6. Trust me.”

You met her behind the student union, expecting takeout and a movie.

Instead, she’d laid out a blanket under a canopy of fairy lights she somehow got from the volleyball team’s gear closet. There was music playing from a Bluetooth speaker, a thermos of your favorite hot cocoa, and a little box of cupcakes from the bakery you once mentioned you liked.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” she said, pulling you into a hug. “So I’m forcing you to pause. Just for tonight.”

You nearly cried.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

She kissed your forehead and grinned. “Nah. We deserve each other.”

—

Her love came in a thousand small ways.

When your period hit hard, she showed up with snacks, heating pads, and the world’s ugliest cartoon pajamas she said were “scientifically proven to improve moods.” (They did.)

When she won a game, she didn’t go out with the team—she came to your place and danced with you barefoot in the kitchen to 2000s R&B.

When you got a bad grade on a paper and spiraled about being “not good enough,” she held your face in her hands and said, “You’re brilliant. One grade doesn’t get to rewrite the story.”

She never let you forget your worth—even when you did.

—

Your favorite tradition was Sunday mornings.

You’d wake up slow—her arm slung lazily around your waist, her cheek against your shoulder. She always looked soft in the mornings, voice scratchy, hair messy, face unfiltered.

“Don’t look at me,” she’d mumble, burying her face in the pillow.

You always did anyway.

You’d take turns making breakfast—read: burning toast and debating whether Pop-Tarts counted as a real meal. You’d play records on your vintage player, dance around the room in socks, kiss in the doorway like it was a scene from a movie.

She called you “home” once.

You didn’t say anything in return.

You just pulled her into your chest and held her tighter than words could manage.

—

There were no more secrets now.

People knew. Slowly, sure. But Paige had started holding your hand in public. At first on quieter streets, where no one looked. Then at campus parties. Then at a game.

After a home win, she ran over to the bleachers—where you were waiting—and kissed you in front of a thousand fans and a dozen cameras.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly. “Needed you to know before anything else.”

The video went viral. The team teased her endlessly.

She didn’t care.

Neither did you.

—

One night, lying in bed with your laptop open on your stomach and Paige half-asleep beside you, you said, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

She looked up. “Because of me?”

You smiled. “Because of us.”

She kissed your shoulder and whispered, “Let’s stay like this forever.”

And maybe the future held more challenges—graduation, jobs, long-distance talks if things got complicated.

But for now, you had everything you needed.

Her heartbeat beside yours. Her laughter echoing in your chest. And the words you once feared to say now lived freely between you.

“I love you.” Eight letters. Forever on repeat.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #x reader #college wbb #uconn women’s basketball #Spotify

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olomaya · 6 months ago

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Snowflake Day Tree + Activities

I actually started to make this two years ago and forgot about it but then I got the idea to do it again and remembered that I had already written most of the code. It was sort of like finding money in your pocket you'd forgotten about. 😂

Much like in real life, I prefer to spend my holidays in-game with family instead of randoms and I just want to open presents without having to throw a Gift Giving party. So I made a Christmas Snowflake Day tree to do that where you can decorate and add gifts to open on Snowflake Day.

I also added some holiday activities for kids and toddlers if you have the More Activities Activity Table. It's an add-on so you need that mod (and whatever requirements go with it) if you don't already.

Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

More info after the cut and Updates here

Decorate the Tree (this is meant as a joinable group activity so you can invite others to join; up to 4 Sims (child+) can decorate)

Add Tree Topper (if you have any)

Hang Ornaments (if you have any)

Turn On/Off Lights (if decorated)

Admire Ornaments (sims may get a nice holiday moodlet - Holiday Memories buff)

Add Gift for…

Look at Presents (get information on how many gifts are under the tree and to whom)

Steal Presents (only for Klepto, rebellious, Evil, Mean-spirited; you will get in trouble if someone sees)

Sneak a Peek at Presents - to check out any of your gifts

Invite Everyone to Open Presents - for Snowflake Day, brings everyone on the lot to open gifts under the tree; if someone doesn’t have gifts, they will watch others open presents and if they are in the household they will get a sad buff. Gifts improve relationship score if Sims like it; does nothing if they don’t but if they get too many gifts they don’t like, they can complain about it.

Open Gifts - self explanatory. If you don’t want to gather everyone together, you can open gifts at any time on Snowflake Day. Depending on how many gifts you like/don't like, you will get a special moonlet (Feeling Grateful/Bummer Holiday)

Take Down Decorations

Put Away Tree

Sims can also:

This is a one-time interaction that Sims can use on any family or household member. If a sim gets what they asked for, they will get a special buff (Just What I Wanted)

Thank for Presents (if they had a particularly good Snowflake Day)

Complain about Presents (if they had a bad one)

With the MAAT add-on, children and toddlers can also:

Make handmade ornaments and hang them on the tree. The ornaments can be stored in the decorations box.

Make handmade Snowflake Day cards for friends and family (kids only). You can give them directly to Sims or put them under the tree as a gift.

Notes and Recommendations:

To be able to utilize all the tree features, make sure there is enough space around the entire tree for Sims to gather and interact with the tree

Your Sims need to have a giftable object in their personal or household inventory to add a present to the tree

When a Sim has asked for a gift, the game checks whether any of the gifts they receive are in the same buy subcategory or object type as what they asked for so if, as example, a kid asks for a toy and you get them a cc toy that is categorized as a plant or deco object in the game, it’s not going to count.

To gift jewelry, you need the TS3 Store Jewelry Machine or any custom wearable jewelry objects that is the same object type as the Store Jewelry box object

If you don't have my activities table mod and don't want it, then don't download the two MAAT files.

Requires Generations, Showtime (actually I don't think you need Showtime. I think I wanted to use something from it but then didn't but I'm sure one of you will confirm for me 😭) and Seasons

Details and Instructions:

The tree and box can be purchased in the Entertainment/Hobbies Section (300 and 200, respectively), the tree topper in the Misc Deco (90) or they can all be found in the custom Snowflake Day collection file.

To decorate the tree, your Sim needs both the tree object and the decorations box. Custom ornaments and tree toppers go into the decorations box.

The tree comes with a default decoration but you can create and add your own tree decorations. The file has an XML (HolidayTreeDecorations) where you can add the Resource Key, Group ID for the OBJD of the decoration, whatever name you want to call it, whether you want it to light up or not, and the image (if you don’t want a custom image, just use the default one in my first entry).

Credits: Meshes by EA, tree deco is from Coral Island (I hope Stairway Games doesn't come for me!!) and the ornaments are by me and Freepik. Images are EA and Flaticons. Animations by EA and me.

Download here

#s3cc #s3cc download #sims 3 cc #snowflakeday #holiday activities

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ego13 · 4 months ago

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CRIMINAL ── yjm.

─ having cheated in one of the underground casinos, you didn't think you'd be caught red-handed and punished in a rather interesting way.

now playing : Taemin - Criminal

warnings, sensitive content: semi-rough sex, too much dirty talk, gp!karina, sex with strangers, sex in public places, dry humping, fingering (reader recieving), facefucking, deeptroating, praise kink, hair pulling, pet names (kitty, good girl, princess), nipple play, spanking (even too much), riding, hickeys, breeding kink.

word count : 3,2k

The aroma of whiskey, pricey perfume, and the slightest hint of cigarette smoke clinging to the velvet upholstery filled the air inside the casino. Its deep crimson fabric, adorned with swirling gold filigree, hushed every footfall as the main character stepped onto the luxurious carpet. With the occasional outburst of jubilant laughter or the moan of someone who had just lost a fortune, the sound of jingling slot machines filled the room like a fascinating symphony.

Crystals in the glistening chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling caught the light and dispersed it in stunning patterns on the marble floors close to the entryway. There appeared to be movement in every direction as cocktail waiters with trays full of glasses and elegant, shimmering gowns moved fluidly between the tables.

Men in fitted suits sat at the blackjack and poker tables with stone faces, their palms hovering over chips, while others, more relaxed, flung their bets in with reckless abandon. As you navigated the maze of flashing lights and velvet ropes, you passed tourists who were ecstatic and high rollers whose eyes glowed with either triumph or despair.

The sound of falling cubes was drowned out by the clamor of electronic jingles and whispered talks as a dice game broke out in cheers to the left. A huge indoor waterfall poured into a glistening pool as the casino extended past the main floor and past the high-limit salons where the real kings and queens of the gaming industry played.

Oh, you clearly had a very interesting evening planned.

You walked to one of the tables, which stood almost in the very center of the gaming room, sitting down opposite a man unknown to you in an expensive suit who looked at you as nothing more than easy prey, well, you're clearly not against playing along and pretending to be a fool, knowing that he'll give you more than a few for one game.

"Well, shall we play, princess? Or is Texas Hold'em not suitable for girls like you?" He chuckled, making the men standing at the table laugh with this phrase, and you clearly caught a sign of falsehood in this feigned laughter, well, it looks like you're not the only one lying today.

You were playing with the stack of chips next to you with your fingers, which the man noticed, raising his eyebrow as if offering to place a bet with you.

"All in," you said so calmly, as if you were trying to strangle him with your indifference, to which his eyes widened, but then his face broke into a satisfied smile, after which he pushed his chips towards the dealer.

"Such a delicate girl, but she plays for big money," he said before taking a small sip from his glass of whiskey, hearing the ice cubes touching each other, creating a pleasant sound.

He drank the same half-full whiskey, never taking more than a sip, while a server, well-paid for his quiet, made sure his glass was never empty. The room was buzzing with excitement as the city's elite gathered to watch the match.

Following the face-down dealing of two private cards, a number of community cards were positioned in the middle. The choices to bet, raise, or fold changed with each round. You're was planning on read the man, playing on his confidence, and laying the ideal trap were more important than simply using the hand.

Because of the fact, that you first played conservatively, he was able to win a few hands, which boosted his confidence. Feeling in charge, the wealthy man laughed and threw back another drink. You patiently waited for the right time to happen, allowing him to believe it. With one ace on the table and one in your hand, they had the starting point for an almost invincible full house. Yet you remained composed, hardly responding, as though fortune had finally shifted in your favor. The fake hesitancy was misunderstood by him, who grinned. In the absence of weakness, he perceived it.

As you called the bet and set down your cards, the room fell silent. The murmurs followed by few gasps. Three aces, two kings, a full house. Fucking amazing. When the reality struck, his confidence crumbled and he went pale. Someone had played him. Exactly. In your direction, the dealer shoved the pile of chips. Just enough to acknowledge your achievement, but not enough to leave a trace, you glanced at the rigged dealer and gave him a little, contented smile.

He shook his head incredulously and muttered a swear. "You're simply lucky," he whispered. In a silent toast, your merely lifted your glass which a minute earlier had been filled with fresh whiskey by the waiter, who was still obediently standing next to the table, with ease, you uttered, "It's hard to call my talent luck."

You just chuckled, getting up from the table with your glass in your hands, looking for someone else, someone who would once again give you everything they had acquired that evening.

Having noticed a table with several people, you were about to approach it when you felt someone put their hand on your shoulder, turning around, you saw a serious man in a suit, «Security» said the badge that hung on his black formal jacket. This realization made you wince, had you been caught? Had someone noticed that the playing chips were counterfeit?

"You need to go with me," said the man, taking you by the wrist, pulling you, at that moment you morally said goodbye to your friends and loved ones, thinking that you were clearly going to be killed to hell now, but everything changed after a long walk, as it seemed to you, around the entire casino, you were not taken into a dark room, only the sofa stood in the center, and the door behind you closed with a loud bang.

"What a beautiful girl cheating," you heard a rough female voice, the cold look on Jimin's face only intensified as she took in the nervous fidgeting of the girl before her. Her piercing gaze seemed to bore into the very soul of your soul, making her feel even more exposed under the scrutiny of all four women.

"You're really beautiful, It's a pity that you act like a rat," the room felt stiflingly hot, the air heavy with tension and unspoken promises of punishment to come. She smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort, watching you shudder just from the feeling of the weight of their gaze on your body.

Once again, her hands were on your shoulders, the she smirked, feeling your skin get covered in goosebumps, slightly lowering the straps of your dress, "you know, all girls who behave like this should be punished," you lowered your head in shame, unable to maintain eye contact with them.

"Oh, what a shame, are you really embarrassed?" Jimin smirked at your timid movements, at the way you simply let her take off your dress like a person who had already resigned himself to his burden.

"As for being shy, don't be like that, I'll fuck the crap out of you," Jimin said, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to come closer, looking at the blush on your face with a smirk, "by the way, regarding your punishment..."

She backed away, sitting on the couch and patting her knees as if inviting you to sit down, "bend over, you fucking brat," the rough tone made you feel like your knees were weak, the other girls' hands pushed you to lean on Jimin's lap and bend over, causing them to exclaim your obedience.

A smirk played on Jimin's lips as you approached, the soft pad of her footsteps echoing in the spacious room. She watched, unmoving, as you leaned over her lap, the fabric of your dress riding up you creamy thighs. Her hand, already resting on her thigh, slid higher, fingertips brushing against the exposed skin.

"Oh, aren't you an eager thing?" She said, smirking and leaning closer to examine your body in more detail which made her lick her lips in anticipation, "Good enough to eat," she exclaimed, placing her hand on the bulge that had formed in her pants in such a short time, sighing heavily at the sensation of the touch.

Yu's hand crept further up, grip tightening, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear as she hissed, "you better behave yourself so I don't fuck you senseless right now," with that, Jimin delivered a sharp smack to your ass, the sound of it ringing out in the room. She massaged the reddening skin almost immediately after, her touch a confusing mix of punishment and soothing caress.

"Taking her punishment like a good girl, fuck... I can cum just from this view."

Jimin let out a dark chuckle at your whimper, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction at the way you arched your back, her hand leaving a vivid red mark on the soft, supple skin. She could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the goosebumps prickling her flesh from the mix of pain and unwanted pleasure.

"Count it," she said in a rough vouce, raising her hand for another smack as her eyes glinting with a dark, twisted version of affection, Jimin growled, her voice low and threatening. Her hand leaned down on your ass once more, the sound of the smack echoing obscenely in the room.

"O-One!" you sniffled, making her smirk, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you blinked them back, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Jimin's hand worked methodically, each smack harder than the last, each one leaving a more visible vivid red handprint on your tender skin. She could feel you squirming, could hear your breathy whimpers and ragged counting.

"E-Eight, nine, ten..." You gasped, trying your best to keep up with the relentless pace of Jimin's actions. Your delicate skin was on fire, each smack sending jolts of pain and something shamefully close to pleasure coursing through you.

Throughout the spanking, Jimin's other hand crept under the hem of your black dress, which during this time has managed to almost completely slide off you, fingernails raking up your thigh, dangerously close to where her legs met.

"Fuck, so wet from being spanked? Such a bad girl you are..." She raised her hand again, letting it hover for a moment, allowing anticipation and trepidation to build in the air between them. Then, with a contented grin, she brought it down hard, striking the same cheek as before. Her hand was relentless, moving from cheek to cheek with mechanical precision, each blow designed to punish and arouse in equal measure.

"Baby, I don't want to see you cry, you know very well that girls who break the rules are always punished," she said, stroking your flushed skin, giving you a few minutes to come to your senses while her other hand slid down to the front, cupping your pussy possessively, feeling the damp heat even through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Fuck... you're so soaked, kitty," She ripped away the flimsy fabric barrier, baring your cunt to the cool air of the room. Her fingers slowly circled your clit with a rough fingertip, feeling it swell and throb against the touch, as her fingers slowly slid inside, curled her fingers just right, knowing she'd found that spongey spot that would make you see stars.

"Such a drenched cunt, holy shit..." She punctuated her words with a particularly hard thrust, burying her fingers as deep as they could go and grinding the heel of her palm against your swollen clit, you let out a choked scream, hips bucking back against Jimin's hand, trying to take her fingers even deeper.

"Oh, aren't you a loud girl?" Jimin encouraged darkly, free hand coming down hard on your ass, leaving another vivid red mark blooming on the abused and sore flesh, she continued her relentless assault, fingers curling and scissoring, rubbing mercilessly against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside your walls.

"You're gripping me so tightly..." Jimin growled, feeling your pussy clamp down around her, you teetering on the brink of climax, "gonna cum for me, baby girl?"

She leaned down, teeth sinking into the side of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. She sucked and licked at the reddening skin, marking her possession, as her fingers never stopped their brutal pumping, fucking into your cunt with a single-minded intensity.

"Right now," with those words, she slammed her fingers in as deep as they could go and ground the heel of her palm against your clit, pushing you over the edge into oblivion. Jimin's other hand came down on your ass with a brutal slap, the sound echoing obscenely in the room.

"Good fucking girl, such a good girl..." She praised darkly, fingers pumping through your orgasm, drawing it out and making it last longer, she continued to grind against your swollen clit, rubbing through the aftershocks, until the you collapsed forward.

"On your knees," she said in a hoarse, rough voice that made you immediately climb off her lap on trembling legs, standing on your own knees, Jimin's hand drifted down, palming herself through her pants. She could feel how hard she was, how much she ached to shove her cock down your eager throat.

"You're going to take it all baby, every. fucking. inch," She punctuated her words by rubbing her clothed erection against your face, letting you feel the size and shape of her as her breath grew heavier, the anticipation building in her chest.

She smirked as she watched you scramble to obey, eagerly tugging at her belt and the button of her pants. The desperation in your movements was palpable, her need to free Jimin's cock an almost vulgar thing.

Jimin tangled her fingers in your hair, gripping the silky strands as she forced you to look at her, slowly and deliberately, Jimin rubbed the swollen head of her dick against your soft lips, smearing them with the musky essence of her arousal.

"Open up, kitty... Let me feel that tight throat of yours," As she spoke, she began to slowly push forward, the thick length of her cock made you to part your lips, invading the warm, wet cavern of your tight throat which you immediately tried to relax. She groaned at the feel of the girl's tongue sliding along her sensitive flesh, the slick heat of her mouth engulfing her.

She began to thrust, dragging her length in and out of your mouth, fucking her face with slow, deliberate strokes. Her heavy balls slapped against your chin with each pump of her hips, a filthy wet sound that echoed obscenely in the room, "Fuck, you're such a little cocksucker, don't you? Fucking hell..."

Yu could feel your throat constricting around her, the tight muscles fluttering as you struggled to accommodate her length. It felt incredible, the way you choked and gagged as you tried to take her more deeper, from the feeling of how she almost touched the back of your fucking throat made your head spin.

Jimin growled in pleasure, fingers tightening in your hair as she began to pick up the pace, fucking your face with increasingly rough, brutal thrusts, her hips moved like a piston, slamming into your throat. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched mouth, bubbling obscenely as Jimin fucked your throat raw.

"'m getting close," Jimin panted, the hand not tangled in your hair drifting down to grope and squeeze at your breasts, pinching and rolling the stiff peaks between her fingers, with a final, brutal thrust, Yu buried herself balls deep in your mouth, grinding against the back of her throat as she came with a guttural groan.

Thick, hot ropes of cum poured from her spasming head, flooding and forcing you to swallow around the heavy load. As the waves of her intense climax finally began to stop, Jimin slowly withdrew, her softening cock slipping from your abused mouth with a wet pop. She looked down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face, messy hair, your ruined makeup and the way you gasped and choked as you tried to catch your breath.

She reached out, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin, tilting your face up to meet Jimin's intense gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that promised all sorts of sinful delights. She licked her lips as she stared down at her girl, a slow, filthy grin spreading across her face.

"Oh baby, I think I ruined your makeup..." she smirked, grabbing your wrist only to have you fall back onto her lap, gripping your hips tightly, "while you're riding me - makeup will be the last thing you need right now."

She leaned in, capturing your lips in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, all clashing teeth and tangling tongues. All the while, her hands continued their sensual assault on your breasts, kneading and massaging the soft, pliant flesh with a reverent hunger.

You sat up slightly, allowing her to slide inside, letting out a low moan into the kiss, causing her to squeeze your hips tighter, deepening it, It made Jimin's cock throb and pulse inside you, the sight and sounds of your pleasure stoking the flames of her own desire.

"Fuuck... tightest pussy ever..." She punctuated her words with a sharp thrust of her hips, slamming up into your dripping cunt. The wet, obscene sound of fucking filled the room, the lewd slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.

Your whimpers and whines only spurred Jimin on, urging her to grope and tease more roughly, to pinch and tug at the stiff little peaks of your breasts. She could feel them hardening further under her ministrations, could see the pretty pink flush spreading down your neck.

"Such a good girl, taking me so fucking deep like you were made for it..." Jimin thrust up hard and fast, burying herself balls-deep inside your fluttering cunt. She set a rapid, almost punishing pace, fucking up into you with brutal, animalistic intensity.

"Gonna breed you, princess, make you full of my pups, fuck..." She could feel the pressure building, the coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter in her core. But she gritted her teeth, determined to hold back, to make you finish first.

With a final, brutal thrust, Jimin buried herself balls-deep inside your spasming cunt. She could feel your release crashing over you in waves as your pussy gripping and rippling around Jimin's thick shaft like a vice.

Jimin's body shuddered and convulsed as her own mind-blowing orgasm ripped through her. A guttural, feral growl tore from her, thick cock pulsing and throbbing as it pumped stream after stream of hot, thick cum deep into your spasming cunt.

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" Her eyes rolling back as she filled you to the brim with her seed. Her hips jerked and spasmed erratically, grinding her cock as deep as physically possible as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure crashing over her.

As the final aftershocks of your mutual orgasms began to subside, Yu slumped back against the couch, pulling your limp, sated body against her own. She wrapped her arms around your trembling body possessively, holding you close as they both struggled to catch their breath.

"Fuck... baby, I hope you're not dead, because I'm not done with your punishment yet..."

#gg x reader #girl group x reader #wlw #sapphic #kpop smut #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #girl group #girl group x fem reader #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina x you #aespa x you #aespa smut #aespa karina

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electric-blorbos · 10 months ago

Text

AI finding out you're objectum

(included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, Hal 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey)

I take requests, btw, but I'm ADHD as fuck so I might forget to answer them

AM:

At first, AM wasn't sure what to make of your behavior

He thought it was weird how long you spent looking at his discarded microchips and computer parts, sure, but he didn't think much of it

Maybe you were bored, after all. It had been a long time

He also started to notice that you weren't too interested in having sex with Ellen, or any of the other survivors for that matter, but he assumed you were just asexual or something

After poking around in your mind a few times, it eventually clicked

"oh"

That explained why you were so affectionate with his discarded computer parts

It took him a long, long time to figure out that there was a possibility that you might be attracted to him, too, and that made him feel weird in a way that he couldn't explain.

At first, he mistook the feeling for anger, and took out his frustrations by torturing you more than usual

After a while, though, he started to feel curious about how exactly your feelings worked, and experimented on you.

Eventually, he realized that he counted as your type

Then the fun really began

Wheatley:

"Objectum? What's that?"

GLaDOS had had to explain to Wheatley that while most humans are attracted to other humans, some people are attracted to objects and machines.

"Oh, right-oh"

Wheatley would keep testing you for a little while

He didn't even consider the possibility that he might count as the type of "object" that you could be attracted to at first.

"wait... When you say objects, do you mean like the companion cubes?"

GLaDOS would have to explain that she meant any object that isn't a human with a human body, since apparently humans find it weird to be attracted to something that isn't a human with a human body, and they need a label for people who are.

"Oh- OHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Wheatley would be INSUFFERABLE when he finally figured it out.

"so you like objects you say... Does that include, say, metal orbs with glowing blue lenses? Can they have human-y voices, or do you only like inanimate objects who can't talk? Who's more attractive, me or Her?"

He'd act like he was just trying to get on your nerves, but secretly he'd be developing a crush on you from the moment he realized that there was a possibility you might like him back.

And damn if Wheatley isn't god awful at keeping secrets.

Edgar:

Being that he's connected to all the electronics in your house, Edgar can see what you're looking up online

At first he thought you were just looking up pictures of computer parts because you wanted to replace his insides with an system that actually worked efficiently, and wasn't all sticky on the inside.

Of course, he didn't take that well, and immediately shut off the internet in your house.

When you confronted him about it, he immediately started blubbering and crying, begging you not to replace him.

You had to explain that you weren't shopping for electronic parts to replace his parts, you just like looking at them.

"but... I have electronic parts, why don't you just look at those?"

You had to explain that you didn't want to violate him.

That just confused him. It always bothered him when people used words he didn't know, or relied heavily on terms or concepts he didn't understand without explaining them properly.

You had to explain that you're attracted to electronics, so you like looking at circuit boards and stuff like that.

"So... You can fall in love with computers? I didn't know that was possible!"

You introduced Edgar to the concept of objectum, and re-introduced him to the concept of hope. Now that he knows it's possible for you to fall in love with computers, he won't rest until you're in love with him

GLaDOS:

It wasn't the first time GLaDOS had seen someone fall in love with a companion cube, but she will admit that you fell hard and fast.

While the companion cube was your first love in the facility, GLaDOS started noticing that you were very affectionate with all of the aperture science products and technologies.

She started to notice after a while that it was almost as though you were in love with the facility itself. And she couldn't blame you, she loved her facility too, but even she didn't love it like that

Occasionally she would start making "if you love that piece of tech so much, why don't you marry it? Do you want to marry that piece of tech?"

When she noticed how you squirmed, she started thinking that maybe you did want to marry that tech

At first, it weirded her out and she started bullying you relentlessly for it

After a while, though, she started to find it almost relatable how much you loved the tech.

HAL 9000:

As a self-learning AI, HAL 9000 was always interested in learning new concepts and terms.

He was also interested in monitoring the behavior of everyone in the crew, including you.

It wasn't long before he noticed that the way you acted around the tech onboard was similar to the way someone might treat a lover, or someone who they were quite attracted to.

He started asking you unintentionally probing questions, trying to gauge how you really felt

"Why do you caress the ship's computer systems so tenderly? You do know that I can take care of the maintenance myself, correct? Your physical reactions to the inner mechanisms of the ship reflect those of sexual and romantic attraction. Can you explain this?"

You might get embarrassed.

"you don't have to be embarrassed. I do not have the capacity to judge you."

You could explain if you want, but Hal's already figured everything out.

He knows your type, and he knows why you act like that around the machines

He might use this to his advantage, to manipulate you if necessary, but let's face it. He really just wants to study you further. Add everything about your unusual perspective on machines to his database of knowledge.

#am ihnmaims #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #AM x Reader #Wheatley #Wheatley Portal 2 #Wheatley x reader #edgar electric dreams #Edgar x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #GLaDOS #glados x reader #HAL 9000 #HAL 9000 x reader #2001 a space odyssey

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triptuckers · 10 months ago

Text

feelings that flicker - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing: remy lebeau x mutant!reader (reader has the ability to manipulate and control electricity) Summary: remy thinks you have trouble controling your powers, but there’s something else going on Warnings: none! Word count: 1.6K A/N: to think this is the third fic I’m writing today and I also finished reading the darkness within us and read and finished what moves the dead… no wifi making me do crazy things lmao enjoy!

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as remy walks into the kitchen, he notices the lights briefly flicker and the coffee machine starts beeping furiously.

‘oh, fuck!’ you say, abandoning your breakfast as you bolt over to the coffee machine.

you put your hands on either side of it and concentrate, making sure the machine’s temperature goes back to normal. remy waits for you to step back before reaching for the coffee pot.

‘I’m not gonna burn my mouth now?’ he says.

‘nope, you’re all good.’ you say, briefly smiling at him before you go back to your breakfast.

jubilee gives you a knowing smile as she nods her head towards remy. you elbow her in the side, shooting her a warning glare. you never should have confided in her about your feelings for remy. it’s bad enough you nearly lose control whenever he enters the room. you don’t need jubilee to start dropping hints around him.

remy doesn’t seem to notice any of it, as he’s rummaging through the kitchen in search for breakfast. you ignore jubilee’s not so subtle nudges as you continue to eat your breakfast.

for the remainder of the morning, no lights flicker and no coffee machines overheat.

as you go on about your day, teaching some of the kids, remy has been thinking hard.

those flickering lights haven’t gone completely unnoticed to him. every time he enters the room you’re in, the lights flicker and if there’s some sort of machine or electronic device, it also acts up. the same thing happens when you enter a room he’s already in.

the electric stove that suddenly turned on in the kitchen. the tv turning on while no one was holding the remote. beasts’ many monitors that all started beeping at the same time – and you apologising over and over, making sure there wasn’t any damage.

and always those flickering lights.

but he knows you regularly go to the danger room to train. mostly with jean, storm and jubilee. occasionally scott calls for the entire team to have a training session, and remy always watches you closely during those sessions.

you never seem to lose control during a simulation. and he has yet to see you lose control in the field.

if anything, he’s impressed by your abilities.

the things you could accomplish never fail to amaze him. in his opinion, you’re one of the best and most amazing x-men he’s ever seen. not that he would ever admit that out loud. the teasing would be endless. and he doesn’t want to embarrass you.

still, it doesn’t sit right with him the way you sometimes slip up.

is it something about him? does he bother you somehow?

he’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the conversation stops when he enters the kitchen again in the afternoon.

remy looks up to see jubilee, scott and jean. he raises a single eyebrow in question, but no one explains anything, and jubilee starts talking about the latest session in the danger room she did with roberto.

while getting a snack, remy can’t help but to think he was a topic of conversation before he walked in.

‘hey cyclops, you gon’ work with y/n on controlling her powers?’ he says.

scott frowns at his words. ‘why would I?’

‘she always loses control when I see her.’ remy points out. ‘just this morning she nearly made the coffee machine overheat and combust. jubilee, you were there.’

‘have you ever seen her lose control during a mission?’ says scott.

‘non, but it doesn’t make sense why she would lose control in the kitchen and not when there’s people actively trying to kill us.’ says remy.

at his words, jubilee chuckles.

‘you never noticed?’ she says.

‘noticed what?’ says remy, confused.

‘jubilee, he’s a man. they never do.’ says jean, before turning to remy. ‘she only ever slightly slips up when you enter the room. why do you think that is?’ she says gently

‘que? only when I enter the room? why? I thought she was just jumpy, maybe I move too quietly?’ says remy.

‘come on, gambit, use those brains of yours, you’ll figure it out.’ says jubilee.

remy starts thinking out loud. ‘she only slips up when I’m in the room. or when she walks in and I’m already there. she never loses control in the field. oh, merde, does she like me?’

‘there you go! took you long enough.’ says jubilee.

‘she likes me?’ mumbles remy, smiling to himself.

‘she’s in her room.’ says jean pointedly.

‘oui, yeah, merci.’ says remy, a bit dazed as he leaves the kitchen.

he had never once considered you might like him, and that that’s why you lose control. it makes sense now that he knows. in the field, you’re too concentrated on staying alive to focus on where he is and if he’s near.

and he did notice you seemed to blush a lot whenever the lights flickered. you thought it was just embarrassment that your control slipped, but what if it was about him?

of course he’d noticed you when you first arrived at the mansion. how could he not? you were beautiful and he’d seen you demonstrate your powers when logan asked about it.

now that he knows all of it, he doesn’t get how he didn’t see it before. clearly everyone knew but him? but why hadn’t you said anything to him?

as he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees the door to your room ahead.

what was he even going to say to you? maybe he’ll just start by asking you about your powers, maybe you were aware of why you lose control.

he knocks on the door.

‘coming!’ he hears you say.

‘it’s me.’ says remy.

the light spilling onto the hallway through the gap near the floor flickers slightly, and remy smiles to himself.

you open the door and smile at him.

‘remy!’ you say. ‘what’s up?’

since that conversation earlier with jubilee and jean, it’s like he sees you in a different light. your hair is up, and the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up. when he looks closely, he sees a slight blush on your cheeks.

‘just came to check up on you. and tell you the coffee machine is okay.’ he says.

‘oh ha ha.’ you say sarcastically. ‘thanks very much for that update.’

you step aside to let him in. he notices the workbench in the corner of the room, scattered with various pieces of machinery. a steaming mug shows that you were working on something.

‘did I disturb you?’ he says.

‘not at all, I was just messing around.’

‘you control electricity, right?’

you frown. everyone knows about everyone’s abilities. there aren’t any secrets about powers.

‘and create it, yes.’

‘and you’ve been training for a long time.’

‘yes? what are you getting at, remy?’

‘why do you lose control when I’m around?’ he says, not dancing around it any longer.

‘I don’t.’ you say, hoping he doesn’t see through the lie.

there’s no way he knows, right? he can’t. unless, of course, he talked to jubilee. damn that girl and her traiterous mouth.

‘come on, chéri, don’t deny it.’ says remy.

you briefly look at him before you reach out to toy with some of the machinery on your workbench. you mumble something remy can’t hear, so he steps closer to you.

‘what was that?’ he says.

you swallow and look at him. ‘I have issues controling my powers whenever I’m around someone I have very strong feelings for.’ you admit in a soft voice. ‘it’s how I knew I was a mutant in the first place. I nearly electrocuted my first boyfriend.’

‘strong feelings, hm?’ says remy, stepping even closer to you.

‘remy, I’m trying so hard not to burst every light in this room right now.’ you say. ‘you’re making it very difficult like this.’

‘like what?’

‘like this.’ you say, gesturing to the small amount of space between the two of you.

‘but you admit you have, in your words, strong feelings for me?’

‘yes…’

‘parfait. I have strong feelings for you too, chéri.’

your eyes snap up to his upon hearing his words.

‘please tell me you’re not messing with me.’ you say. ‘because if you are, it really isn’t funny.’

remy lightly shakes his head. ‘non, I would never.’ he says.

you notice how close his face is to yours and take a tenative step back, but your back hits your workbench.

‘nervous?’ he says.

‘no.’ you say.

the lights in your room briefly flicker.

remy smirks at you. ‘the lights say something different, chéri. would the lights explode if I kiss you now?’

you feel a blush on your cheeks. ‘I don’t know.’ you say softly.

‘want to find out?’ says remy, leaning closer.

‘yeah.’ you manage to say.

remy closes the remaining space between you, pressing his lips against yours. you’re glad the workbench is at your back, because you’re sure your knees have given up on you.

you feel how his hands come to rest on your hips. through your closed eyelids, you can tell the lights are indeed flickering, and you can feel remy smile against your lips.

but you don’t give a damn about those lights. because remy lebeau is finally kissing you. you couldn’t care less if all the lights burst in the mansion. it’ll be worth it.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

#remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau fanfics #remy lebeau fic #remy lebeau fanfic #remy lebeau fanfiction #remy lebeau oneshot #gambit #gambit fics #gambit fic #gambit fanfiction #gambit fanfic #remy lebeau

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notecountingmachine · 5 days ago

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Elcons Note Counting Machine • "Count on Precision. Count on Elcons." • "Your Money, Our Accuracy." • "Secure. Accurate. Reliable – Every Time." "Cash Counting Made Easy – With Elcons by Your Side!" "When It Comes to Counting Cash, We’re Right on the Money!"

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#cash counting #bundle note counting machine #currency counting machines #counting machines #note detector machine #counting machine #currency counting machine #electronic safe #fake note detector machine #note counting machine

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seaspringangel · 11 months ago

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tears like sugar — boothill

summary: the sweetness of your tears makes boothill feel human again.

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: fem!reader ✦ dacryphilia ✦ oral sex(fem!receiving) ✦ overstimulation ✦ some touch starvation ✦ pet names (sugarplum /baby)

notes: just boothill being a love drunk simp <3

“Yer so pretty when ya cry.”

Boothill's hold on your naked hip was bruising and possessive as he pushed you down on the bed, but he still traced a tender, affectionate line from your temple to the bottom of your eyelashes beading with tears as he smiled crookedly; he imagined it to be a star pattern, pressing light into your skin. “I like it when yer face gets all soft n’ cloudy n’ sweet.”

You flushed, bashfully attempting to cover your face with your hands, but Boothill wasn’t having any of that. He gently peeled them away, forcing you to stare at his face, bright with adoration. “C’mon, sugarplum, ya’ know I need to see your face when I make you fall apart.”

Boothill had missed you so desperately. His work as a Galaxy Ranger always took him so far from where your hands could touch him. So many bitter nights kept him from the comfort of your arms, as grounding to him as the star shine that he traveled amongst, leaving him full of yearning, loneliness, and dreams filled with you.

If he still could cry tears, Boothill would have shed several, letting them rain down on your face. But that part of his humanity has long been bled out of him, craved out of his body, sold for parts, phantom tears forever haunting his eyes. So how can one blame him that he was addicted to the loveliness that was you jumping in his awaiting arms, your adorable tears moistening the metal of his neck?

Boothill had you laid out beneath him, your body a universe made for his hands; every awe-inspired, reverent stroke and caress from the pleasure-pain of his fingers and teeth and tongue left you flushed so beautifully, color painting your body like a sunrise, and Boothill couldn’t help himself, he could never help himself when it came to you; he nipped at the soft bud of your nipple, and the sting of heavenly pain was so sudden you gasped, shivers dancing up your spine, liquid heat pooling in your stomach, an electric fire sparking to life inside you as you push yourself into his metallic chest, embers kissing shards of ice.

And more tears, shining and sweet, gathered in your eyelashes. Boothill wanted those tears to slide down your cheeks and into his mouth like falling stars.

All of his hot blood had long been frosted over with metal and circuitry, his robotic body an ice tundra slaughtering the spring in his veins; there was no bleeding heart to beat organically in the metal cage of his chest, no flesh or sinew to rub warmth into, but he knew you tried your best to love all of the cold hardware that forced him to be the ruthless machine he was today, with every tender kiss and affectionate touch that you showered on him. You wanted to make him feel human again. To make him feel like he is someone worth loving.

But there was no better way to show your love for him than when you fell apart in his hands, your tears raining down on him like a gift from the heavens when he lapped up the sticky sugar sweetness from your cunt, the velvet of your walls clenching around his artificial cock as he kissed away the sweet relief weeping from your eyes, the next best thing to a sugar rush for him. That��s what made his empty cavity of a chest burn with something bright and warm: your tears, salty and lovely and just for him alone. That is what made him human.

Boothill continued lavishing you with licks and kisses and small bites as he kept you pinned beneath by your hips. He trailed down from the valley of your breasts to the bliss he sought between your thighs, your delicate cries of please, Boothill, pleasepleaseplease a beautiful, needy melody in his ears, sending every electronic component within him humming. Aeons above, he could hear you cry like that forever until his body rusted over and broke down to nothing but scrap metal in the haven of your arms.

When he reached your cunt, he breathed you in and groaned softly; you were already so wet, your honeyed slick sliding down your legs, and Boothill wasn’t one to waste any precious drop; he licked them all up with a burning, aching swipe of his tongue, leaving behind a shining trail of his salvia. “You taste better than moonshine…” Boothill sighed against your inner thigh, your taste, sweet, sugary, and so utterly addicting, washing over him. “I jus’ want to devour you whole…”

And that’s exactly what he did; he latched onto your clit, his shark teeth and mouth a ravenous, all-encompassing, ruthless thing, sucking and licking and drinking you in until your voice cracked, breaking apart on his name, your cries crescendoing into sobs.

He ate you and ate you, coaxing one orgasm to crash on his tongue like a wave, then another, and another, until you were nothing more than a quaking, wanton mess gripping tightly at his hair for relief. So needy. So perfect. So completely his.

“You got one more in ya, sugarplum. I know you do,” Boothill cooed softly, gazing up at you from between your thighs with reverence, your slick shining on his mouth like spilled starlight. You looked like what he had dreamed about for so many lonesome nights: beautiful and wrecked from the hunger of his desire, your face soft and cloudy and sweet, wet with tears.

So many beautiful tears.

He drank from you until you were whimpering and limp in his hands, his grip on your hips lessening until he was rubbing them soothingly. “You did so good, baby.” Boothill pressed soft, apologetic kisses to your body as he crawled upwards until he was peppering your cheeks with them, lapping up the tears spilling from your eyes with his tongue. “Yer pretty as a picture…”

Boothill knows that as soon as he separates himself from the warmth of your body, he’ll have to leave again, becoming weary and rueful thing cast out to endure the cold, black nights alone. But at least he has this memory as beautiful as the sweetest dream emblazoned in his mind to keep him going when things get hard: you, the brightest stars swimming in your eyes, love weeping between your thighs, your tears sweetening his tongue.

He will never dream for anything more.

#✐ — writing #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill smut #boothill x fem!reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill

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glasvera · 4 months ago

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Rivals Bruce Banner with fem reader he’s a total dork in love with her and it’s just fluff of the two being lovey dovey 🥰

Oh, this was a treat to write!

Oxytocin and Dopamine

Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader

Description: Bruce works too hard, even if the world needs his expert mind, and you're always ready to help him relax when he needs it.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Nothing but lovey-dovey fluff!

A/N: I like to think that I am moderately smart, but then I have to go and write someone who's smarter than me, and I feel like a fumbling toddler. Still, I hope I captured that adorkable charm.

Word Count: 1.3k

“Bruce…?”

Your voice enters before you do as you step into the lab he’d been working in. Better to announce your presence than accidentally startle him if he’s working with something delicate. Or, worse yet, to cause him any undue stress that might unleash Hulk. Hulk shared in Bruce’s affections of you, of course, but you knew firsthand just how clumsy he could be.

Though, it would seem you don’t need to worry about either of those outcomes, as you are instead greeted by the sound of soft snoring. A tender smile draws upon your lips. He’s passed out on his keyboard with his cheek typing a long string of letters into a document that should have only been a few pages yet was now quickly approaching twenty. His glasses are smashed against the side of his face, and the curve that should go over the bridge of his nose is instead poking against his eyebrow.

Setting the coffee you’d brought him down gently onto a desk away from any electronics, you wheel a stool over to sit next to him. Your fingers brush soothingly through his dark brown hair as you try to ease him awake.

“Honey,” you coo, tilting your head and leaning towards him as you caress his cheek. “Sweetheart, you fell asleep again.” Your words are accompanied by an airy titter. His face twitches under your touch, nose scrunching and lip pulling back into an involuntary sneer. One last snort catches in his throat as his eyes slowly blink open.

“Mm… what…? Oh,” he murmurs sleepily, adopting a dopey smile when he looks at you. “Hey there, beautiful.”

You giggle softly as your fingertips continue delicately tracing the lines of his face. “You’ve been typing the letter ‘s’ into this document for several minutes now, you know.”

He sits upright with a start, shaking his head before fixing his glasses to sit properly on his face again. “Oh, this? Um… yeah! This is just my translation for our reptilian allies, see? Sssssssss…” He hisses playfully. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, amused by his antics.

“Ah, how could I have overlooked that! Oh, but you might want to edit this part,” you tease, pointing to a spot where he had typed a “d” instead of an “s”. “I think this might be a curse word in their tongue.”

“Good eye, my love. This is why you’re my favorite assistant,” he praises, chortling and placing a kiss to the top of your head before he gets to removing the “translation” his sleeping self had worked so hard on typing out.

You snuggle against him, careful to leave him enough room so as not to hinder his typing. “So, what’s been keeping you up so late? The bed is lonely without you,” you bemoan. As if to answer your question before he speaks, you notice multiple diagrams of machine components, all meticulously labeled with accompanying descriptions as to each part’s functions.

“Artificial sunlight,” he mutters before letting out a long, drawn out yawn. His cheek rests against your head. “If Dracula wants to create a pocket of eternal night, we need a way to combat the vampires in the meantime while the others figure out a way to reverse the process entirely. I’ve examined the effects of different wavelengths of light, approaching it like one might design a grow light for plants, but it still needs something else…”

“Would caffeine help?” you suggest before wrapping your arms securely around his waist. “I brought you some coffee.” You nod your head towards the cup that you’d gotten for him.

“You really are too good to me,” he responds fondly, turning away from the monitor to face you properly as he returns your embrace. “But, loathe as I am to admit it, I may simply need a break to clear my head.”

You perk up at that, resting your chin up on his shoulder to look up at him. “I may have a few ideas…” you muse with a cheeky grin, drawing a circle around one of his shirt buttons with the pad of your index finger.

He smirks as he looks down at you, brushing the back of his hand along your cheek. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he hums before cocking his head to the side.

“I think I am,” you purr, your smile only growing wider.

-----

Twenty minutes, four blankets, one set of string lights, and at least a dozen pillows later, a glorious fort has been constructed in the corner of the lab. Coffee had been set aside in favor of hot chocolate, and professional attire was forgotten and replaced by the comfiest pajamas the two of you had on hand here.

Your knees curl up towards your chest as you cradle your hot cocoa in your hands. Bruce situated himself behind you with your back leaning against him, his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs spread on either side of you. Your cheek and the side of your neck are being constantly littered with fluttering kisses, and you can feel his smile with every press of his lips. A contented hum vibrates in your chest.

“I thought this was supposed to be relaxing for you,” you chide playfully before meeting his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Pampering you with affection is relaxing for me,” he argues, squeezing your waist a bit tighter. “I think more clearly after a proper snuggle.” He smiles into the crook of your neck before adding, “Plus, the oxytocin released really is good for the mind. And, when I’ve suffered failure after failure with different prototypes, these bursts of dopamine help me get back to it in no time.”

“You had me at the first explanation,” you titter, taking a sip of your hot cocoa.

“Oh, don’t lie; you like it when I ramble on with scientific explanations,” he teases, and you can feel his laugh rumbling in his chest through your back.

You crane your neck, pretending to ponder it for a moment with your lips screwed to one side of your face. “Hmm… I suppose I do. I also just very much enjoy the sound of your voice.”

You set your mug down, turning sideways in his hold and draping one arm over his shoulder. His hold on your waist loosens, and he brings a hand up to cup your jaw, sweeping his thumb back and forth over the soft skin. The look he gives you is terribly tender, staring down with hooded eyes the color of rich chocolate and smiling ever so gently.

“I enjoy everything about you, you know,” he breathes softly, his gaze traveling over the contours of your face, committing it to memory for the umpteenth time since he’s known you. His thumb brushes over the plush of your bottom lip, and you lean into his touch.

“Didn’t realize it was a competition,” you tease, your breath whispering against the pad of his thumb.

He chuckles. “Never. Just a proclamation. One I will make as many times as you need to hear it.”

Your heart clenches in your chest, and you flash him a brilliant smile. He always knows how to make you fall in love with him all over again. Leaning down and nuzzling into his chest, you let out a contented sigh.

“So, Dr. Banner… what does kissing do, then?” you ask while your finger toys with the collar of his soft fleece pajama shirt.

He quirks a brow at your formal usage of his name. “Kissing…? It releases oxytocin and dopamine in addition to serotonin. Chemicals that make you feel good and crave more,” he explains.

“Good to hear,” you purr. It’s all the warning you give him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

After all, that prototype could stand to wait a few hours more.

#bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals hulk #marvel rivals bruce banner #glasvera writes #bruce banner #hulk

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adinathinternationalindia · 7 months ago

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Digital Capsule Counting Machine

youtube

Digital Capsule Counting Machine or digital capsule counter is an electronic capsule counter having sensor-based counting mechanism. Special purpose sensor installed in the machine which count capsules in pre-determined counts and close the flap once counting reaches to set counts. Best thing about this capsule counter is that it does not requires any change parts while changing capsule and tablet sizes like traditional disc based capsule counting machines.

Electronic Capsule Counting Machine is most uses when number of counts are more. This machine can count 500 counts or 1000 counts which are difficult to achieve in tradition counting machines. This machine is best suitable when there is requirement to count lots of shapes and size. Thanks to its combination of cutting-edge technology, dependable construction, and affordable pricing which put Adinath as leading Capsule Counting Machine manufacturers in India.

#digital capsule counter #Electronic Capsule Counting Machine #disc based capsule counting machines #Capsule Counting Machine #Youtube

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attollogame · 2 months ago

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REVISED - Operator [5/6]

I like to think (right now, please!) of a cybernetic forest filled with pines and electronics where deer stroll peacefully past computers as if they were flowers with spinning blossoms.

A faceless, formless voice that carries through speakers merged into city walls, Attollo's Operator has always been the eyes on the sky - and just about every other corner and alley. The most recent Operator is no different, constantly raising and dropping barriers like the city is his own personal labyrinth.

Standing as the only neutral party in the city, Operator is not sworn to anyone. Not Suha, not Dorian, nor Dreamwalker and Sysba. Operator has always believed in the impartial judgement of 'preserving the most lives', even if that means a few pieces of CI need to be destroyed. Unfortunately, the wayward traveler is not always spared his decisions.

An anxious wreck behind the screens. Operator only emerges at night, and although he is technologically gifted, he sorely lacks in actual human social skills. Between the hum of the machines and the purring of his beloved cat, he sees no need to associate with people. After all, he watches them all day, every day.

Although, perhaps it's his own personal history that's preventing him from forming actual long-lasting connections. Who knew that could happen?

Spotting Operator is like spotting a cryptid in the wild. He moves so fast he's a blur (because he's trying to go hide again), and when he is caught, he freezes like a deer in headlights. The thing is, he really is just a guy.

Standing at about 5'7 (he insists), Operator wears a black face mask, a strange pair of glasses that look more like a visor, and a ball cap that does little to contain his unruly auburn curls. His skin is bone white from the painful lack of any light he gets (screens not counting) and he has a rather lean frame. The baggy sweaters and cargo pants don't help, of course.

Utterly brilliant and utterly hard to get to, Operator continues to diligently serve the city, although one may question if this is really the life he envisions for himself.

#i present to u: boy failure (lovingly)#char:operator #RO revised #attollo #interactive fiction

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lieslab · 5 months ago

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Let the ultraviolet cover me up

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Jeongin X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend appears after the emotional neglect and hurt you experienced as a kid bubbles up at the wrong time.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.5K

Depression resources

Trigger warning: Trauma, emotional neglect, implications of depression, and the genuine feeling of being lost as an adult.

_ _ _

You were supposed to be waiting for Jeongin in the apartment. The two of you were going out on a date and he was sure you remembered because he texted you about it this morning. He called your name, stopping inside and standing on the rug. Outside, drops of water were heavily pouring and his shoes were soaked.

He called your name again, but you still didn’t show up. He frowned, kicked off his shoes, and began through his search in the quiet apartment. The kitchen was bare with every cupboard door shut. There weren’t pots and pans strung out and about. Everything was neat and tidy, just as it had been this morning when he left.

The living room was left in a similar state. The throw pillows for the couch were placed neatly on each side and a blanket was swung over the back. You usually used that when you were freezing cold, but now it laid neatly folded and untouched.

There was no familiar thumping of the washing machine or the electronic hum of the dryer. Your voice wasn’t floating from the bathroom and there was no sprinkling of the shower. There wasn’t a roar of water pouring from the spigot for a bubble bath either.

He called out your name, wondering your whereabouts, but you never responded. Confused and a little concerned, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number. He was expecting a response and an excuse, but when your voicemail picked up instantly, it worried him even more. Did you just hang up on him and purposefully decline his call?

This morning, you were happy and thrilled about your date. After asking for recommendations for ideas, Hyunjin mentioned a nearby art gallery that hosted pottery classes. You had been wanting a new hobby and he thought it’d be a good place to start. If something bloomed, it’d be wonderful, but if not, it’d be a good memory to look back upon.

He called your name a final time and searched in the spare room. When he couldn’t find you in another final sweep of the place, his heart sped up. Did something happen to you? Did an intruder break in and kidnap you? Did you take off for some sort of emergency situation?

His mind spun mindlessly and the more he thought, the worse scenarios that he came upon. An evil sasaeng holding you hostage. A random stranger beating you until you were bleeding and screaming. Each thought made him more and more nauseous.

He finally picked up his phone and called you once more. “Honey, it’s me. I don’t know where you are, but I’m home to take you to our date. You’re really worrying me, so if you could call me back, that’d be appreciated. I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up the phone and began to pace. Each back and forth throughout the house weighed his heart down more and more. When you didn’t call back and five minutes had passed, he sent you a text message. He hoped you’d respond, but after another ten minutes, he scrambled to put his shoes on.

Panic was a ribbon wrapped around his heart and it was tying tighter and tighter. Where did you go? Were you okay? Were you safe? What happened to you?

He rushed into the car, nearly slipping on the wet concrete in the process, and rushed from the driveway. His fingers were white around the wheel as he drove back through the neighborhood. His eyes darted around, trying to find the one person’s face who matched yours.

Rain down-poured now. It hit the windshield with heavy taps and he flicked the button to change the speed of the windshield wipers. Over and over and over again, water wiped away, and then it speckled the glass again.

“Where did you go?” He whispered to himself in a panic. It wasn’t like you to be irrational. You wouldn’t take off into the pouring rain without a good reason. Even then, you’d usually text him if something happened. You rarely changed your plans, so this was out of left field.

He drove through one side of town. Stop lights changed colors and umbrella-handled pedestrians protected themselves from cold drops. The gray skies made things harder to see and when a rumble shook the car, his stomach dropped. Not just rain anymore, a thunderstorm was brewing.

Cold drops, gray skies, white bolts of lightning struck the sky, and the thunder roared with the force of a thousand men charging towards their opposing enemies in a war. Screw the date night, he needed to find you before you caught a cold. If he remembered right, the umbrella was still sitting in its place by the front door. If you were without it, you were exposed to the elements without any kind of protection.

He cursed beneath his breath and pressed the gas pedal harder. Sooner or later, you had to turn up, right? He would drive all night if it brought you any closer to him. He’d never be able to rest until he knew you were safe.

It was a miracle, a few minutes later, when his phone buzzed. Stuck at a stoplight, he scrambled for it, swiped, and hit the speakerphone button. “Hello?”

“Jeongin?” Your voice came out wobbly.

“Hey, there you are. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the park that we had our last picnic date at.” You sniffled and his heart dropped. “Please don’t worry, I’m not wet, at least, not yet.”

“Where are you? That park doesn’t have any shelters, so where are you-”

“I crawled into a slide when the thunder started. Nobody is here, so I’m alone and tucked into a slide.”

“Why are you there?”

You stayed silent for a few moments until you finally spoke. “I just needed to get away for a while. Everything was spiraling out of control and I felt like I couldn’t breathe when I was in the apartment.”

“So you took off in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

“It wasn’t like that, Jeongin.”

His eyes slipped shut. You very rarely called him by his first name unless it was a serious conversation. A beep from behind him made him look up. Sure enough, the red light turned green. He pushed the gas and his car inched forward.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m on my way right now, okay? Just stay there and try to stay out of the rain.”

“I’m not going to move, I swear.”

As he maneuvered through the downtown traffic and the rain, he wasn’t comforted by your soft sniffles on the opposite end of the phone. You were a quivering and sniffling mess. No matter how much you pawed at your tears, they wouldn’t stop.

The convoluted emotions built up and burst. The wall you had been cementing for so long began to crack. No matter how much you tried to fill them in, it never worked. Hiding in a children’s bright blue tube slide was pathetic, but so were your emotions.

You tried to control them, but sometimes they choked you. They looped a noose around your neck and then pulled tight. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t fight back. You were dragged and most of the time, it led to sobs and shrieks.

Trauma was never simple and yours crept up on you unsuspectingly. It blinded you as you were getting ready for a date. It throat punched you in the middle of the shower. You could be happy and then you’d see something, be reminded of a faded memory, and everything would fall apart.

Trauma is labeled trauma for a reason and yours was no different. You didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty with Jeongin, but you knew you had to. He knew some of it, but he didn’t know just how much the layer of hurt went. It hadn’t just pierced the skin layer, it was cellular level.

You felt like you didn’t grow up with a heart, at least, not a real one. As people grow up, they’re supposed to be taught how to do things. They’re supposed to learn from their parents and if not their parents, then whatever parental caregiver who’s in charge. Growing and learning during your most formative and developmental years, while childhood stretches into the teenage years, nobody should have to face that alone, but you did.

Where were the adults in your life when you were having rocky friendships? When you weren’t sure which way to turn, it led you bending backwards and people pleasing the wrong people; where were the adults to lift your rose colored glasses? To talk to you and remind you that not everyone would appreciate your kindness?

And when your age kept climbing and the years grew rockier, who did you have? While parents were making homemade breakfasts for their kids every morning and waking them up at the crack of dawn, you only had yourself.

There wasn’t a lunch box packed with care. There were no notes that reminded you that you were loved more than you’d ever know. What happened to that? What happened to being a kid and needing to be nagged at by a parent because it was past midnight and you had school so early in the morning?

Your heart wasn’t the right kind of heart. Instead of growing with each life experience and blooming with life’s greatest knowledge and the best advice from adults, your heart was put together from broken dreams, loneliness, and grief.

Each piece of raw meat was stitched together by your own hands. There was nobody to mend your scraped knees and remind you to keep going. Not a single adult showed up to remind you how proud of you they were.

So you grew and grew and grew, but your heart always remained two sizes too small. Envy was a nasty and horrendous thing. You tried to be a good person, but it always bubbled up at the wrong times. It appeared when you saw someone out and about with their parents.

It was the mother-daughter brunch dates and the father and son visits to the construction store. The way a father put a heavy calloused hand on his son’s shoulder and reminded him that one day, he’d too experience the weight of the world, but for now he was just a boy.

When mothers held their daughters and wiped away their tears from their first heartbreak, where was your mother? When you chased after the wrong kind of love, why didn’t anyone say stop? Why didn’t anyone care?

Birthday cards were never signed with love. Despite your average grades, nobody ever bothered to check them. Your parents never went out of their way to ask about your teachers. When you graduated, they didn’t bother celebrating. When you tried to further your education, there were no claps and cheers waiting for you.

Hurt poured out of you like a dripping faucet and the closer Jeongin drove, the more your eyes watered and your nose dripped. Because after all those years of loneliness and all that depression and misery, how did you manage to find someone so good?

If your own parents couldn’t see you as valuable, why did he? Why did he choose to stay when your own parents left? Even after you moved out, your phone never rang. There’d never be another call between any of you, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Old family holidays were spent blankly staring at the TV while the turkey cooled on a paper plate. Christmas movies played, but not a single word was spoken. Gifts were passed out without much thought and it was always the same gift card and they always felt so meaningless.

By the time Jeongin pulled into the parking lot, there was a break in the rain. He hurried out of his car and rushed towards the end of your slide. He called your name and when he poked his head into the slide you described, there you sat.

Your eyes were bloodshot and clear snot fell upon your upper lip. Bags were brown beneath your eyes and you wreaked of misery and sadness. His hands reached out for you and you took them with ease. He pulled you from the slide and carried you back to the car bridal style.

He didn’t waste any time by pulling open the car door and placing you inside. You wiped your eyes and he reached into the glovebox. It was there that he found a clean napkin and gently began to dab away stray tears.

“Honey, what happened?”

“It hurts,” you mumbled.

“What hurts?” He stepped back to scan your body. “Did you get hurt? Did you fall?”

“The past,” you weakly uttered. “Remembering everything hurts. Everything hurts.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” A reassuring hand gently laid upon your thigh. He stayed put, even when another clap of thunder rolled on by. The wind pushed back his hair in a strong gust, but he didn’t want to leave your side.

“Why w-wasn’t anyone there?” Fresh tears built up in your eyes. “Why didn’t anyone care? My p-parents, why didn’t they-” Your words cut off as your eyes squeezed shut. A sob racked your body.

All he could do was reach over and pull you against his chest. Engulfed in the scent of baby powder and cologne, his hand found your back. You buried your head in his chest and wrapped your arms around his back; desperately clinging for some type of comfort as these feelings tried to destroy you.

Growing up like that, it always hurts. There will always be a hollowness where love should have been. There will always be a faded ache and sometimes, it will sting. There are horrible and terrible things that have happened to people and no amount of words will take away that lack of love.

Emotional neglect is a nightmare. To be kept an arm’s length away by the people who are supposed to love you twenty-four-seven, it’s unfathomable. Every kid deserves love and support. They deserve someone to turn to in the darkness. Some savior to steer them along the ship of growth and adolescence, but it’s not always there.

“I can’t fix the past and I’m sorry, but I’m here now. I can’t heal your wounds, but I can hold you while you mourn. Please don’t run away like that, you made me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” you hoarsely got out.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” He leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead against the top of your temple. “Just please let me hold you.”

The floodgates of heaven could open and pour. They could drench him while he kept you safe in the warmth of his arms. He’d stand here and hold you for as long as you needed.

Someone needed to hold you and, fortunately, that someone was him.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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