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luveline · 2 years

Note

Hi babes! I have a request for steve <3

Reader's hands are shaky, like she cant keep them steady and it's because of anxiety. So maybe something where she's trying to do something that requires precision and she gets frustrated with herself and steve just take her hands in his and calm her down

I'm obsessed with your blurbs! They're so cute it hurts

hi!!! thank you so much!! hope this is OK ♡ fem!reader | 0.9k words

"Fuck," you mumble.

Threading a needle isn't an easy task. Threading a needle with shaky hands borders impossible.

You sit on the floor next to Steve's bed with a small sewing kit in your lap, a length of red fabric over your knees. You'd told Dustin you could fix the rip in his favourite hoodie and you're confident you can do it, an invisible stitch won't take you ten minutes. Or, it wouldn't, if your hands felt like cooperating.

Anxiety makes you unsteady.

You prick your fingertip. "Ouch," you mutter.

"You okay?" Steve asks, attention stolen from the TV.

"Yeah," you say, much more confidently than you're feeling.

Soon, a socked foot comes into view. You turn to watch him slide off of the bed and sit on the floor beside you, all wrinkled pajamas and bedhead. Still, he's lovely. His thigh presses hot to yours and his hand curls around your elbow lightly as he peers into your lap, curious.

"You haven't started?" he asks.

"No, was just… measuring," you lie.

He hums and leans back against the bed. "Do you care?" he asks, squeezing his hand where it remains on your arm.

"Not even a little bit." He can touch you as much as he wants.

You bend, the needle and thread at your eye level. If you only had a threader.

"Babe," Steve says eventually, a cautious, soft dragging of syllables, "are you feeling okay?"

You huff to yourself as the thread misses the eye for the twentieth time. It takes you a few seconds to realise he's spoken, and another to remember what it is he's asked. You turn your face to him but keep your eye on the task at hand. "Yeah, I'm amazing. Are you okay?"

You're not amazing – you feel very tightly strung today. He pulls your arm. You lean into his side, your eyebrows pinching in frustration.

"I'm good."

You look away from your trembling hands and set your eyes on his. His eyes, pretty as they are, have softened with concern. He pouts almost imperceptibly.

You kiss his cheek and go back to your sewing. Steve doesn't say anything for a while, only tightens and loosens his grip on your hand over and over, pretending not to watch you. While his touch soothes, his watching makes it worse. You get in your head, and soon you're biting your cheek in annoyance, wobbling obviously.

Steve's hand pushes down the length of your arm, the other going over your back. He takes the needle and thread and puts them back in the sewing kit before he's encapsulating your hands in his, a gentle but steady grip. He rests them on your thighs.

His breathing grows louder. You know he's doing it on purpose, asking you to follow his breathing without asking.

You take a few deep breaths and let him rub your fingers between his.

"Dustin won't mind if you do it tomorrow," he says eventually.

"He wants it for the movies later."

"He can wear something else. I'll let him borrow one of my jackets."

You melt into his chest with a dejected sigh. "I don't know why it's bad today."

"Does there need to be a reason?"

No. Not really.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he admonishes. "Take it easy."

You squeeze his hands weakly. "I'll feel bad if I don't fix it."

"I think how you're feeling right now is a little bit more important than his hoodie. He'll understand."

He hugs you from behind, crossing your joined hands over your front, nose tapping the shell of your ear. The thick fog of anxiety gets cut open by his affection, a dizzying warmth blooming throughout your chest as he slides the tip of his nose into the skin behind your ear, up and down, over and over.

"What can I do to make you feel better? Do you need some time by yourself?" he speaks quietly, so close to your ear it tickles.

"No," you say immediately. "Honestly, this is good. This is," you close your eyes and let your torso weigh on him, "perfect."

He rubs the backs of your hands with his thumbs. "I could fix his hoodie?"

"You should probably tell him to come tomorrow."

"I resent what you're implying."

You giggle. He can't magically cure your anxieties but his touch and his company ease the shakes, help you relax. After a while you turn and hug him properly, head held to his heart, his pulse bumping under your ear.

Steve forgets to call Dustin, and an hour later he's bursting into Steve's bedroom, entirely unimpressed with your cuddling.

"You guys are disgusting," he says.

You're half asleep. Steve, much more awake, says, "Bite me, Henderson."

"Y/N, I thought better of you." He opens his hands. "Where's the hoodie?"

"You can wear one of Steve's," you say sluggishly.

"Oh my god. Where does it end? Next thing you know I'm in a polo shirt working minimum wage, with no friends-"

"I have friends!" Steve interrupts, even as Dustin rolls his eyes and rushes down the stairs, his footsteps a hurricane and still very much talking to himself.

"-no money-"

Steve hums ruefully.

"-and no ambition!" Dustin calls, the front door opening.

"And a really pretty girlfriend!" Steve yells back.

The door slams shut. "Can't forget that one," he says to you, eyebrows raised and smirking. You squeeze his bicep, enamoured.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington blurb

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stevenssticks · 7 months

Note

hey p, i was wondering if u could write abt james and/or kirk with a reader that struggles with penetration? 💗

ohhh my god ok how abt both of them??? esp when they’re older and experienced??? what if i died. now strap in this is long

you don’t remember or care how you got like this, you had just gone over to kirk’s for a drink. a peculiar little relationship, you had, with him and james. you being far younger than the two of them, but still enjoying their company all the same. when you moved onto the street, they were the first to welcome you, living on either side of your small house.

the conversation had started when you all were all loose, a little tipsy. and had started babbling uncontrollably about how everything hurts when kirk had asked how your dating life had been. it had spilled out and maybe, just maybe you were too comfortable talking about how no guy who has fucked you has ever been able to make it good, or even tolerable for you. how even by yourself anything more than a finger was painful. james and kirk sitting and listening as you voice your uncertainties.

now here you are on kirk’s bed, james behind you, arms around your near naked body while kirk kisses you so sweetly. ah yes, they’d offered to try to make you feel good themselves. hesitantly, unsure if they had read your body language wrong, with the way you had always looked at them with such a deep desire in your eyes. they’re glad they weren’t. they’d never been more right about something in their lives.

“gonna make you feel good, honey.” kirk murmurs while james kisses up your neck, sucking a deep spot under your ear as you tilt back to give him more access. you squirm in his hold, hands grasping his forearms tight as james continues to pleasure you, breath mixing with yours and kirk’s as he kisses you silly. kirk starts to continue down your body, making you arch and slither his hands in between you and james to unclasp your bra. letting you shimmy out of it.

“fuck, are you a sight…” james murmurs behind you in between more kisses to your neck and shoulders. kirk moves to suck at your nipples. rolling each of them on his tongue while he plays with the other. while he keeps that up he pushes a hand down into your panties. you gasp, legs flailing out for a second before james grabs them and pushes them down to the bed. kirk rubs light circles over your clit, while james turns your head to him to take you in a deep kiss.

they’re both so invested in this, invested in making you feel good. you never thought that this would make it out of your deepest desires late at night, when you’re alone and longing for the two of them. but here they are.

kirk moves downward, and james takes the opportunity to play with your tits himself. pinching and tugging until you start to squirm and kirk has to push you back down into james’ chest.

kirk looks up at you with those beautiful brown eyes, tapping your hip in a silent question. you break the kiss with james to let out a small “please…” and kirk is yanking your panties down your legs. james’ arms come to hook around them, pulling your limbs back until you’re spread as wide as you’re willing to go for them. kirk takes a careful hand and rubs your clit with his thumb gently.

“we’re gonna make you feel good, okay? don’t even need to go all the way if you don’t want to.” james states from behind you, murmuring into your skin sweetly. you nod and let out a small whine as kirk presses down more firmly on your clit, coming down to rest on his stomach before blowing hot breath over your folds.

when kirk licks a stripe up your center you whine again, covering your mouth with your hand that james quickly pulls away and instead replaces with his mouth. kirk licks and sucks at your entrance, fucking you with his tongue and it actually doesn’t hurt, calming your nerves as he keeps up the pace while his thumb still works wonders on your clit.

you bring a hand down to kirk’s hair, yanking a little that releases a moan deep in his throat. he pushes his face further into you, and you feel james hard and grinding against your ass, so turned on by the sight in front of him and you wonder if he can get off completely like this.

james brings a hand down to where kirk is playing with you, replacing his hand and taking his turn at pleasuring you while kirk keeps his mouth on you.

“doing so good for us, honey. you want more? we’ll give you whatever you want.” and oh is that not the sweetest thing you’ve heard all day. they’re both so caring, so gentle with you and you melt into their grip even further. your legs shake as you nod, knowing what’s coming. “we’re gonna go slow, baby. don’t worry. this is about making you feel good.”

kirk sits up on his heels to watch james move his right hand down to your entrance, slick from kirk’s mouth and your juices. kirk holds your legs up higher, watching closely for any discomfort as james slowly slides a finger in. you squirm at the intrusion, much different from kirk’s tongue. a little uncomfortable, and you start to get nervous again, locking up and tightening around james’ finger. james and kirk notice almost as if they share a brain, both acting to soothe you. kirk massages your hips while james whispers more reassurance toward you, and in that moment they decide that they’re not gonna go all the way with you tonight. you’re too wound up and you have to get used to them.

instead, kirk pulls down his pants and underwear before removing james’ fingers to press his cock between your folds. “fuck, that’s good..” you hear him murmur. making eye contact with james behind you as he starts to grind himself against you. you relax again at the pleasure of kirk rubbing up against your clit with his tip, eyes lidded and lustful as he watches you fall apart for him. “wait- wait…” you gasp, and kirk stops immediately, your next move surprising him.

you get up and turn over onto your hands and knees, pressing your thighs together so kirk can slide his cock in between them. you look up at where james is still sitting against the headboard, rubbing his hard on over his jeans and unzipping his fly and unclasping the button. you pull his underwear down, letting his hard cock rest against his stomach as you feel kirk slide in between your thighs, pressing up against your clit with his shaft again and you whine out long and high.

you go back to the task at hand of getting james off too, taking him and rubbing your palm up the shaft. you plant little kisses all over his tip, sucking while you use your hand on the rest of him. you feel one of kirk’s fingers make it’s way back to your entrance, and you brace as he pushes it in to loosen you up again, but it’s the farthest you’ll get tonight. you have time.

kirk’s hips slap against your ass with each thrust, wet, obscene sounds coming from your pussy as you mouth at james’ cock. kirk keeps fucking your thighs while his finger keeps fucking your hole, and you’re so fucking close you could cry. james knows it, and he starts praising you again, knowing exactly what buttons to push.

“that’s it sweetheart, so pretty like this. you gonna cum? cmon, you’ve been so good for us. you can do it, deserve it for making us feel so good.” kirk is an incoherent mess behind you, determined to make you cum before he does. he pulls his finger out of you and hunches over you, hips thrusting faster and more uncoordinated as he bear hugs you. the closeness, the skin on skin, sends you over the edge with a howl. you vaguely feel james’ cum hit your chest and collarbones as you come down from your high, delirious, and then almost fall into a puddle of kirk’s cum when he lets go of your hips.

kirk laughs at how fucked out you are, finding it endearing and so precious that him and james get to see you like this.

“did so good for us, honey… we’ll get you farther next time, okay?” you nod enthusiastically at the thought of a “next time,” that having been the best sex you’ve had with someone. james pulls you back up into his arms, hugging you tight and close while you close your eyes, resting your head on his chest. kirk yanks the top sheet off his bed, throwing it somewhere and then crawling into bed with the two of you.

“hey… i want a turn.” james looks at kirk and huffs, letting you go so you can instead be in between the two men, coming to rest with their arms around you peppering little kisses all over your body.

—-

P figure out how to close out a story challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

#asks and replies #p’s thots(^ ^*)#james hetfield #metallica #kirk hammett #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett fanfiction #kirk hammett smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #metallica fanfiction

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sluttywonwoo · 10 months

Text

instead of you [part nineteen] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, reader has emetophobia, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 4.7k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Why not?”

“You’re asking me why I can’t admit to wanting to kiss you?”

“Who said I wanted to kiss you?”

He was backtracking, trying to dig himself out of a hole that he’d already buried himself in. He cocked an eyebrow at you, somehow still arrogant in the midst of vulnerability. You called his bluff.

“I’m not stupid.”

He leaned away from you, a fraction of an inch. “I never said you were.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Don’t act like you were testing me, like you had Jisung’s best interest in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that for an actor you’re surprisingly transparent. No one leans that close to a person’s face for no reason. You were going to kiss me and now you’re trying to play it off like you were just testing me to see if I’d cheat on my boyfriend,” you paused for a beat, wondering if you could turn it around on him. “Because I was testing you, and you failed. Horribly.”

Minho blinked. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Does it look like I’m fucking with you?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I can’t tell.”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

“Guess so…” he trailed off, settling back into his own seat.

The moment was gone, dissipated along with the breath you’d been holding. It was like the tight line of tension running between you, inexplicably tying you to each other, had been given an inch of slack. It was still there, buried under layers and layers of repression and guilt, but subdued.

You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was likely a bit of both.

Suddenly the bus lurched around a corner, sending you flying into Minho in an cruel, ironic twist of fate. Your head landed in his lap. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a speed bump caused your head to bounce up and come down back onto his thighs, face planting into his crotch again. You didn’t even want to think about what it looked like to the people across from you. This was not how you envisioned his dick pressing into your cheek would go.

Minho winced, helping you sit up. There was a tiny dark spot on his jeans, damp from where your open mouth had left an imprint on the fabric.

Mortified didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

“Are you ok?” Minho asked, seeming totally unphased by the series of events that had just taken place. He was holding your shoulders like you’d run if he let go. He did a quick scan of your body, looking for marks as if you’d been hit by a car and not simply tossed into another human being.

“Fine, just absolutely humiliated,” you sighed, rubbing your cheek.

“Don’t be.”

“Well too late, I already am. And, uh, sorry about… that.”

Minho followed your gaze to the wet patch on his jeans. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It happens.”

“Does it though?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to say.”

You slumped down in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose. Minho brought his hands to his lap and turned to look out the window.

“Are you okay?” you heard yourself ask just moments later. “I mean,” your eyes flicked down to where his hands were resting on his lap. You thought he might have been holding himself in pain, but then you realized-

“Fine,” he answered through gritted teeth, and that was the end of the conversation.

The next stop was Mt. Fuji’s 5th station, another lookout- this time on the mountain, that provided an even better view. You felt a little dumb for taking all of those pictures at the first stop but then remembered what Jisung had said about sending him lots of photos and relaxed a little.

This stop also served as the lunch break. Meals were provided to guests that had added the option on their tickets. The Hans had elected not to spring for the included meal, leaving you and Minho to fend for yourselves. They invited you to join them at a noodle shop inside the station, but you declined, opting to use the time to explore and find something on your own.

More time alone, you thought to yourself. Great idea. The day wasn’t even half over and you’d already had a close call. Too close of a call. Was it really that hard to control yourself around your best friend’s brother? What was wrong with you? Maybe it’d be easier if he wasn’t such a fucking tease. Regardless, you needed to have a little more self-restraint.

The break period was only about an hour long and then you’d be driving to the next stop so you had to be quick.

You walked with Minho through the narrow passageways, nearly breaking into a jog to keep up with him. There were only three or four restaurants in the surrounding area, narrowing your selection down by a lot.

“Looks like our choices are kind of similar,” Minho said as he scanned the menu on the wall of the third restaurant you’d stopped in front of.

“Here seems as good of a place as any.”

It was relatively busy inside, but you and Minho were able to find a little corner table out of the way. You figured these places must make a fortune, seeing as there was so little competition and dozens of buses full of hungry tourists came through each day.

The exterior of the building was painted black, as were the walls inside to absorb heat. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the dining room, showing off the breathtaking view of the mountain range in the near distance.

“What sounds good to you?” Minho asked, leaning over the table to see your menu even though he had one right in front of him.

“Seems like everyone’s ordering soup,” you mumbled and nodded to the tables closest to you to prove your point. “I guess that does sound kind of good, especially because it’s so cold up here.”

“We could order a couple different kinds and share?” he suggested.

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed nervously.

You might as well share soup with your best friend’s brother that you almost kissed just an hour prior. Yeah, makes perfect sense.

Minho ordered for both of you when the server noticed you were ready. You watched him effortlessly make conversation with the waiter, cracking jokes like he’d known the man his entire life, and it made you think of Jisung. Jisung who always ordered for you, Jisung who counted the dishes he ordered on his fingers to keep track of them, Jisung who made friends in every situation he found himself in.

“What?” Minho asked, yanking you from your thoughts.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“Nothing, sorry.”

“You okay? You didn’t hit your head earlier, did you?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for ordering for me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I noticed Jisung always orders for you so I just assumed you might’ve had some anxiety when it comes to that.”

“I do, yeah.” you admitted. “But it’s just something he’s always done for me, even before we started dating.”

The word dating seemed to snap Minho back to reality and he leaned away from you, straightening his posture and seeming to take great interest in the napkin in front of him.

“That’s sweet,” he muttered, sounding completely unconvinced.

“He can be when he wants to be. Shocking, I know.”

After lunch you took a walk around the lookout together, pointing out different signs with Japanese characters and trying to guess what they meant. Minho had paid for both of your meals, unsurprisingly, and you hadn’t even put up a fight. You already knew he wouldn’t let you pay for your own if you tried, slapping his card down on top of the bill before the server had even left the table.

You were listening to Minho talk about why he thought a sign by the bus stop said ‘no baseballs’ when you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. Minho had given it to you on the bus so you could listen to music on the ride up the mountain and you just hadn’t remembered to give it back to keep in his bag.

It was a text from Jisung. Minho stopped talking as soon as he noticed you weren’t paying attention to him anymore.

How is everything? Haven’t heard from you all morning! Send a pic of you and Minho when you can :)

“Ji wants us to send a picture.”

“Of what?”

“Of us.”

“Us? Like, both of us?” Minho asked, looking as confused as you felt.

You shrugged. “I guess he wants to make sure we haven’t killed each other yet.”

He nodded in understanding. “Proof of life photo, got it.”

“Where should we-” you paused, looking around for the best place to snap a selfie.

“Well we should get the mountains in the background, right?”

“Yeah, good idea. Let’s go over there.” You pointed in the direction of a cluster of benches gathered at the ledge of the mountain where people were taking pictures with their families.

The section was fenced off to prevent guests from falling off the face of the cliff, but that wasn’t stopping kids from climbing the railings or couples sitting on top of them. You settled for simply leaning against it, not trusting yourself enough to balance your weight on top of it.

“Here, you have longer arms,” you said, offering your phone to Minho.

He took it without argument and extended his arm so that both of you were in the frame. You’d forgotten that he was a practiced expert at taking selfies. You wondered how many phone cameras he knew how to use just from snapping pictures with fans at every event he attended.

You weren’t sure how close to stand to him, or what to do with your hands. You leaned towards him, not touching, and smiled awkwardly. You weren’t doing anything wrong at that very moment, so why did you feel so guilty? Minho snapped a couple photos and was about to hand the phone back when you were interrupted.

“Do you want me to take a photo of you?” a woman with a thick German accent asked. “You know, couple? I take photo for you, and you take photo of me with my family?”

You were about to politely decline, correct her, and just offer to take the picture of her family, but Minho was already handing the phone over. You were going to kill him.

Minho slung his arm around your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world and you forced yourself to wrap yours around his waist, resting your head on his chest as you bit the inside of your cheek. You could hear his heartbeat if you listened closely. It was steady, rhythmic. Not at all panicked or rushed like you were sure your own was. You faked a smile and waited until the camera stopped clicking before letting yourself breathe again.

Minho thanked the woman and traded places with her, taking a few pictures of her with her family while you paced anxiously in the background. You checked the time on your phone, wondering if it was time to go yet when you realized you still needed to text Jisung back.

You scrolled through your gallery, selecting all the pictures the nice lady had taken of you and Minho. Your finger hovered over the delete button, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to press it. You hit cancel, sighing in defeat.

You opened your messages again and stared at the blinking cursor. You flipped through the options on your camera roll, unsure of what to do. At the very least, you knew you couldn’t send one of the pictures the woman had taken to Jisung. He probably wouldn’t even question it, the pose was normal enough for friends, but then again what if he did? You couldn’t risk it.

You chose one of the selfies Minho had taken and hit send, promptly locking your phone as soon as you saw it was delivered.

“We have to get back on the bus.”

You looked at the time on your phone and then back at Minho, squinting in confusion. “We still have a couple minutes before we’re supposed to leave.”

“No, that woman’s son started talking about K-pop when I was taking their picture.” You glanced over your shoulder and saw the family huddled together, all indiscreetly staring at you and Minho.

“Don’t look!” he hissed. “Come on.”

He tugged you by the arm until your feet caught up with you and you were able to walk in step with him.

“They recognized you?”

“The little boy did. I don’t know if the others believed him.” You were tempted to look back, but you knew you’d probably be yelled at again. As if Minho could read your thoughts, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Keep your head down.”

“I don’t get it, doesn’t this happen to you all the time?” you asked. “What’s the big deal?”

“It doesn’t happen to me all the time, and when it does it’s usually not a big deal,” he explained as he ushered you up the steps of the coach. You shuffled your way to your seats, nodding in acknowledgment at his parents as you passed them. You got to the row first so you took the window seat. It was easier than having to shuffle around. “I don’t mind taking pictures with fans or signing things for them most of the time. It can get annoying, but I try to remember that I’m incredibly lucky to be in the position I’m in in the first place. And I’m just like them when it comes to football players and golfers, anyway.” You chuckled. “I’m serious! I stumble over my words when I meet them, and my hands are shaky when I ask them for an autograph- I’m a fucking mess. But we already had one close call this week with someone seeing you alone with me. Twice is asking for it.”

“Asking for what?”

“Rumors, articles, blog posts- I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I don’t think that little boy is going to start any rumors about us,” you said.

“You don’t understand.” Minho was serious, something you weren’t used to seeing from him. “It’s not that simple. Someone from that family posts a picture on Instagram, they tag me and they see you standing next to me. My fans… can be really invested in my personal life. And they’ll want to know who you are because they think we might be dating. That’s why I told you to keep your head down so they wouldn’t be able to see your face.”

“But guys and girls can be friends,” you reasoned.

“It’s the internet, y/n. No one cares. I’m seen alone with a woman and suddenly everyone wants to know everything about her from her high school GPA to who her mother voted for in the last presidential election.”

Oh. Ok, maybe Minho was right and this was a bit serious. Your social media wasn’t the worst there was out there, but it certainly wasn’t the cleanest per se… you had a whole story highlight dedicated to you and Jisung competing to see who could down a shot the fastest. Yeah, you were those people at parties. And even though you lost most of the time, you could already imagine the things people would say about it.

“I didn’t realize you were so popular,” was all you could say.

Minho chuckled bitterly. “I try not to advertise it.”

“I can see why.”

“It’d be hell for you to be associated with me.”

“I kind of already am,” you pointed out. Minho gave you a blank look as if he didn’t know what you meant. “Through your brother.”

“Right, Jisung.” Minho sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know what he’d do to me if you got tangled up in all this bullshit.”

“You’re always saying shit like that. Jisung is pretty harmless, you know.”

Minho shook his head in disagreement. “You only think that because you’re wearing rose-colored glasses when it comes to him.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh, come on, yes it is.”

“We were friends for years before we started dating! I haven’t always seen him romantically.”

“Still, you haven’t known him as long as I have.”

“Well you have on… whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses when it comes to him because you’re related to him!” you argued. “He can barely hold me on top of him- don’t ask how I know that.” Minho pursed his lips, suppressing a smirk. He’d clearly been about to ask. “I’m just saying I think you could take him.”

“I’m flattered, but I think you’re forgetting how protective he can be,” he protested. “Has he never gotten jealous?” Minho pressed, his body rocking slightly as the bus began to move. He stabilized himself against the seat in front of him, looking at you expectantly. “He’s never been possessive of you?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to decipher whether or not this was a test. Did Minho suspect anything? Was he just being nosy or did he think there was something you were lying about. Was he trying to get dirt on his brother, prove to you that he’s not a good boyfriend? You weren’t sure what to think. You scrambled for something, running through your memories as you tried to piece together a story with fragments of half-truths.

“There were a couple of times…” you admitted, trying to even your breathing to sound more natural. “Like this one time, we were at a bar and this guy was trying to buy me a drink while he was in the bathroom and when he came back he just kinda came up to us and wrapped an arm around my waist and the dude fucked off.”

What had actually happened, was a guy tried to buy you a drink while Jisung was in the bathroom and you agreed, asking him to buy one for your friend Ji too. You let the dude assume it was short for Jisoo or whatever and entertained him while the bartender mixed the cocktails. As soon as you saw Jisung emerge from the bathroom you took both the drinks and ditched the man the second his back was turned. You presented your best friend with one of the drinks and toasted the man who bought them for you, clinking your glasses together in celebration. After you downed them, Jisung pulled you onto the dance floor with him, telling you to follow his lead. He made sure the stranger was watching and then kissed you hard right in front of him. You took it a step further, slipping your tongue into your best friend’s mouth and cupping his face between your hands. When you came up for air the man was walking out the door with a scowl on his face.

“Another time before we started dating he dropped me off on a date with another person, and wouldn’t even let me walk into the restaurant when he saw the guy through the window.”

That was true, but the real reason he didn’t let you go into the restaurant was because he knew the guy from one of his classes and had overheard him talking about how bi girls are freakier in bed which is why he actively sought them out.

“So I guess you’re right, he’s always been protective of me, even when we were just friends. But I don’t think he’d hurt anyone. He might say something brutal, but he wouldn’t swing at you unless he’s defending himself.”

“Well, I don’t want to take any chances.”

You thought Minho would be satisfied with your answers, but you couldn’t tell from the expression on his face.

You sat in silence for the rest of the bus ride to the next stop. There was that tension again. You curled into yourself, bringing your knees to your chest and pressing yourself against the window as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to text Jisung back.

J: dorks ;) looks like you’re having fun. love you!

Y: it’s ok i guess… would be better if you were here

J: that’s because everything’s better when i’m there

Y: nvm i take it back

J: rude

Y: how are you feeling??

J: just ok :/ mum sent lix and i some soup, but i couldn’t keep it down

J: sorry, i shouldn’t have said that part

Y: it’s ok

J: no it’s not- i know how you feel about that stuff

Y: ji, i promise it’s fine.

J: if you say so…

Y: i do

Y: btw… minho was asking if you’re ever get jealous

J: why

Y: idk it was weird- i told him about that time at the club near campus

You hoped he remembered which time you were talking about. You flirted with a lot of people for free booze.

J: i remember that night

Oh, so he did remember. Or he was bluffing just in case Minho was reading over your shoulder. You checked discreetly, sneaking a glance over at his brother. But Minho was scrolling through Twitter, completely in his own world.

J: did you tell him about what i did to you when we left >:)

Y: he’s not reading these, dumbass. you don’t have to do all that

J: i was referring to spilling my slushie down the front of your dress idk what you’re talking about

Y: i can’t stand you

“Hey, y/n.” You jumped at the sound of Minho’s voice, clutching your phone to your chest protectively. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, we’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the bus had stopped, but passengers were already getting off, eager to see the mountain from yet another view. Minho slid out of the row and stepped back to let you off in front of him.

“Where are your parents?” you wondered aloud as you passed their empty row.

“Guess they ditched us again,” Minho sighed. “Really loving this family trip. Not that hanging out with you isn’t cool and all,” he amended.

“It’s fine, I get it,” you assured him. “Except I’m going to take it very personally and give you the silent treatment for the rest of the day.”

He shook his head but laughed. You followed the rest of the tourists in your group who were getting into a fast-moving line and joined them at the end. You and Minho had been the last two on the bus so there wasn’t anyone else behind you.

You weren’t even sure what you were in line for, hell, you didn’t even know where you were, but men in beige coveralls were ushering the queue forward impatiently. They gave directions mostly through hand signals, pointing, thumbs up, thumbs down, probably so guests from all around the world could easily understand them.

Before you could even understand what was happening you were enclosed in a cable car that was ascending God knows how high with Minho and one other couple. They looked to be in their seventies, and were speaking Vietnamese to each other, completely oblivious to the seven stages of grief you were going through on the other side of the car.

“Minho” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured back. He looked quite pale himself, but you knew it likely had more to do with being concerned about you than anything else. He hurriedly glanced around the tiny cabin as if there might be something in there that could help you.

“Minho,” you repeated, this time with more urgency.

“I-I” he paused, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this was part of the tour. I didn’t mean for- if I had known I would’ve suggested we stay back.”

“I feel sick,” you mumbled.

“Let’s sit down.”

Minho tried to cross the car over to you, but his movement caused the gondola to shake. You barely managed to muffle a scream of terror with your fist. The car swung violently on the wire and you suddenly wondered how up to code these cable cars were. When was the last time they had been inspected? How old were they in the first place?

If you looked closely you could see rust corroding some of the bolts and paint chipping from the benches. It took everything in you not to collapse to the floor and assume fetal position.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Minho apologized. “I’m going to move again, okay?”

“No, please don’t!” you begged.

“I have to! I have to move to get over to you. It’ll just be one more time, I promise.”

You nodded, even though you were dreading it and screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the rocking. The jolt was bigger than you expected and for a moment you thought the cable had snapped and you were plummeting towards the ground, but when you opened your eyes you were still moving steadily upward and Minho was by your side.

“Why did you jump!” you cried. “We could’ve died!”

God bless him for his patience. He wasn’t even phased by your accusations, instead he just took you by the hands and eased you onto the bench behind you, sitting next to you a moment later.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you groaned, wiping your sweaty palms on your hands.

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s not true, I yelled at you.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.”

He was trying to make you laugh, but you were still terrified out of your mind. Your whole body was trembling and your stomach was twisting with nausea. You were trying not to look down, but the whole cabin was made of glass. It was impossible not to look, and closing your eyes only made you feel sicker.

“Want to hold my hand like last time?” Minho offered.

You were quick to accept, grabbing his hand as soon as it was outstretched.

“I’m sorry my palms are clammy.”

“Mine are too, it’s okay,” he assured you, even though they were completely dry.

You squeezed his hand hard, just like you had on the rollercoaster. But it wasn’t making you feel any better.

“Minho, I’m scared.”

“I know, y/n. It’s okay though. You’re safe with me. I’ve got you, I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“How can you say that?” you whined, eyes darting around to all of the windows. “You can’t control whether or not we fall out of the sky!”

You suddenly felt horribly guilty for the other couple trapped in the cable car with you. They were probably just trying to enjoy their vacation and there you were having a mental breakdown thousands of feet in the air with nowhere for them to escape to.

Minho laughed despite himself and used his free hand to grab your face, turning your attention to him.

“Hey, look at me, okay? Don’t look out the windows. Just focus on me.”

“Okay,” you gulped.

You focused on his face. On the way his soft features hardened around the edges. His sharp jawline and perfect nose, easing into the light blush of his cheeks and warm, brown eyes. The dichotomy was striking, and the late afternoon sun that was shining in through the dirty glass made him look angelic. The way the light cast a golden halo around his curls was enough to draw anyone and you found yourself leaning closer and closer to his face.

You were the one to kiss him this time, but he more than reciprocated. The moment your lips touched he was tangling a hand in your hair, groaning softly against your mouth. His lips were just as warm and soft as you remembered, but the kiss was a million times more damning. You were both completely sober, even if you’d been consumed by terror moments earlier. You knew what you were doing. You both did. And you had the first time, but now there was no excuse.

You pulled away a moment later. “I-I’m sorry. I just had to see…”

Minho brought a hand up to your face and you flinched, but all he did was run a thumb across your cheek, collecting a stray tear on his fingertip. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying, and whether it was from fear or guilt you couldn’t be sure.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvslines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands

add yourself to my taglist here!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lino x reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x female reader #stray kids series #skz series #lee know x bi!reader

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mediocre-daydreams · 1 year

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲: send me a character and “opposites attract” duo (ex. grumpy x sunshine, loner x popular) for a blurb!

finnick odair (popular/shy) please! i think it'd be so sweet :)

ok so i just started typing and this emerged and i'm not sure how well this fits the request or if it makes sense but you've got me in my finnick feels and now i have this urge to write for him but bro i have so many WIPs how could u do this to me :(((((

finnick odair x reader // 1.2k

you have an odd relationship with finnick. are you acquaintances? begrudging friends? enemies just for the sake of having someone to squabble with? in any other situation, you’d want a definitive answer. but it’s the 75th hunger games, and in all honesty, you couldn’t give less of a damn about finnick odair.

you’ve only met him a few times, when the capitol invites all the victors for some frivolous celebration for anniversary of a glorified massacre. it’s horrible, you’re more than aware. but some part of you feels a little better that you get to see finnick, because as much as he is confusing and for reasons unbeknownst to you, he seems to have your back.

the parade is twice as busy this year but the capitol spectators seem thrice as enthusiastic. you silently thank your designer for prematurely accepting your death, because it means he didn’t bother to design something extravagant (by capitol standards) and embarrassing (by your standards).

“well, don’t you just look ravishing?” a male voice sounds near your ear and you feel a warm breath tickle the side of your face.

you fight the urge to grab the nearest sharp object and stab your opponent. you turn your head, slowly and intentionally, to the source of the noise and are unsurprised at who you find. “finnick?” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“surprised to see me?” finnick grins, flashing you those teeth that must’ve been capitol-modified. they aren’t, of course. finnick hates everything capitol, and that’s the only reason you let him stick around. there are no other reasons.

“um, no.” you wish you could come up with a better, wittier, cleverer, flirtier response, but there’s something about the way he smells—luxurious and a little briny and so fresh it’s almost cold, but the heat from his bare chest says otherwise… “no, i’m not surprised. i saw your reaping.”

you cringed, remembering how he’d volunteered for annie and how defeated he’d looked on that stage, standing next to his old mentor and trying to avoid eye contact with his crying ex-lover. annie had never been the same after her games. perhaps you shouldn’t have brought that up.

“i’m flattered,” finnick grins at you again, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. he’s got one elbow on a table and even though his free arm hangs loosely by his side, you feel trapped where you are. or at least you’re in no rush to get away from him.

“okay, well… that’s good?” you mumble, not sure where he gets his endless chain of banter from but wishing you could have some.

“it’s good,” finnick repeats, shaking his head in amusement. he runs his hands through golden curls, meticulously styled and sprayed to look effortlessly tousled, and you’re sure his styling team is somewhere nearby wishing death upon you for being the reason their pretty boy has (god forbid) a strand of hair out of place.

finnick calling your name with that lovely voice of his snaps you out of a daze you hadn’t realized you were in. you blink, slightly caught off guard. “sorry, what was that?”

“i said, see something you like?” finnick’s grin is more smug now, almost feline. he looks like he’s about to pounce and ruin your life with those damn eyes. or, spear you with his trident in the quarter quell. neither seem particularly appealing.

“no!” you deny. “no- i mean, that’s not what i meant-” you stammer, eyes jumping everywhere but his polished chest. had his team rubbed him down in baby oil? he was glowing, all tan skin and smooth planes and well defined ridges and-

“no, you don’t like me? i’ve gotta say, i’m a little hurt,” finnick teases. “and here i thought we had something going on.”

“gah, i didn’t mean that! i’m not ogling you, is all. ‘course i like you, as long as you’re not going to kill me on the first day,” you manage to get out.

“hey, your words, not mine.” finnick shrugs, a smirk gracing his lips. “but just for the record, i am ogling you.”

your eyes narrow in confusion.

“i mean it,” finnick continues, swallowing, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker away yours for a moment. almost like he’s nervous. “you look nice. you look really… pretty.”

it’s not a groundbreaking or particularly romantic statement, but it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen finnick around someone who isn’t mags, and that means something to you. “i think you’re pretty too, finnick.”

his confidence returns. “y’know, i’m told that quite a bit. but it means a lot more coming from you, sweetheart.”

you purse your lips. “don’t get cocky, or i’ll take it back.”

“no take backs!” finnick sighs and licks his lips thoughtfully. you’re not sure if he’s trying to entice you on purpose, but either way, you’re enticed.

the conversation is lulling and it’s really finnick’s fault. you’re not much of a conversationalist. “uh,” you begin, not sure why you opened your mouth when you had nothing to say. “um, your horse is… well groomed. and- uh, your chariot- yeah.” you want to kill yourself. you’re going to die in a few days anyway, so you might as well die before you lose all your dignity to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

finnick snorts, unattractively horse-like, and you’re only a little comforted to know he’s not as perfect as he seems. “well, i’m sure the gamemakers will be pleased to hear that the procession is up to your standards.” he turns away from you to pat the side of his horse’s face and you get a good look at his high cheekbones and impossibly sharp jawline. you hate this man.

the horse doesn’t seem to like finnick much. it flares its nostrils and finnick is forced to retreat, taking a step back and finding himself against a small table, useless and meant for decoration. atop it rests a bowl of sugar cubes, which are also useless and probably meant for decoration. you want to scoff at how dedicated the capitol is to performing false hospitality down to the last detail.

finnick turns to see what he bumped into and his eyes light up. he pinches a cube of sugar between his pointer finger and thumb and rolls it around, pretending to examine it. he returns his gaze to you. “some sugar for my sugar?”

you want to gag. finnick is so disgusting and you can’t imagine who would fall for his cheesy pick-up lines. not you, that’s for sure. “no thanks. i’m… allergic.”

“allergic to sugar? really?” finnick frowns, tossing the sugar cube in the air and catching it in his palm easily. “i’ve never met someone with a sugar allergy before.”

you shrug, caught up in your lie and grateful that finnick didn’t call you out on it. you didn’t know if you’d be able to survive the embarrassment of your verbal slip.

the sugar cube really is for show. he places it on the table with disinterest and curls his lip mischievously. “well, i suppose it doesn’t matter. you’re sweet enough to give me a cavity as it is.”

you can’t help yourself. “are you flirting with me?” your mind runs faster than your mouth, it seems, and now you’re pretty sure you’ve screwed up the chance to talk to this man ever again.

finnick looks at you oddly, raises his eyebrows, and purses his lips to hide what would probably be a stupidly smug smile. “no, with the horse.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #1.5k celebration

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maarrgarr · 11 months

Text

The Unknown Heir.

part eight

masterlist of the Unknown Heir.

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader.

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

N/a: This is a flashback!!

Satoru's arm was wrapped around your waist, while your head was lying on his chest. You both liked moments like this, the two of you naked and cuddling, after having had fantastic sex.

You wanted to sleep so badly, but you had things to do, as did your boyfriend, but he didn't seem to mind as you could feel his breathing heavy. You moved to get out of his arms, causing him to wake up. You sat up in bed and lay still doing nothing, you didn't feel like leaving, but you had to. "What are you doing? Go back to bed" Satoru asked you in a hoarse voice. "I have to go see Ieiri" you answered him and looked at him, his hair was tousled and his eyes narrowed looking at you, "And you have to go talk to Yaga-sensei" you told him to get up too. Yaga had called Gojo to come to his office, as he wanted to tell him something, both of you guessed to scold him for something.

You bent down to grab your underwear that was scattered on the floor and when you stood up your gaze met a picture that was on your desk, in it were Satoru, Suguru and you smiling and hugging each other. "You still haven't heard from Sugu?" you asked Gojo. A few days ago your best friend had gone on a mission and still hadn't returned, the strange thing was that he didn't answer any of the messages you had sent him, which was a habit whenever any of you went on a mission. "No, I also called him and he didn't answer me" Satoru answered you. For some reason this made you feel uneasy, there was something you didn't like, but you thought it was just a bad feeling, and soon Suguru would be back.

When you finished putting on your panties and bra, you stood up from the bed to look for the other clothes, but while doing so you felt how you got dizzy and soon you felt like throwing up, you quickly ran to the bathroom and threw everything in the toilet. Quickly Satoru followed you and knelt next to you, rubbing your back, "Are you ok love?" he asked you, you just nodded, stood up and washed your mouth. "Yeah, I just got dizzy out of nowhere and felt like throwing up, maybe I stopped too fast" you answered trying not to make him worry, "I understand, but it's like the fifth time you've been dizzy this week, only this time you threw up" he put a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Why don't you go see Ieiri and ask her to check you out?". You only nodded, you had been feeling sick for several days, but you couldn't find a coherent reason, although you didn't worry much, you thought that maybe you had eaten something bad.

When you arrived with your friend, Ieiri, and you started to tell her what you were feeling, she only looked at you with suspicion, something you noticed, "What's wrong?" you asked her, "Y/n, when was the last time you fucked Satoru?", "Today" you answered without shame and she rolled her eyes amused, "Well, let me rephrase the question, when was the last time you menstruated?". Suddenly a silence was created in the room, you couldn't remember when was the last time, and soon you understood what Ieiri was thinking, "No way" was the only thing you could say.

Before they could continue talking about it, Satoru and Professor Yaga entered the room. The latter didn't have a very good face. Your boyfriend moved to your side when he noticed that you didn't look very happy either, in fact he noticed you looked a little pale. He gently pinched your cheek, bringing you out of your reverie, "Everything okay?" he asked you, and he looked between you and Ieiri, both of you nodded.

"I have something very important to tell you, and I know it won't feel good, but it is my duty to tell you". The three of them turned their attention to Yaga, "As you may know a few days ago, your partner Geto, went on a mission and still hasn't returned. Well apparently something made Geto react badly and he ended up killing everyone in that city". That took you by surprise and it was as if, for a minute, nothing existed around you. It was impossible, your friend, Suguru, killing people, it couldn't be.

"It's impossible, maybe it was a curse" said Satoru just as in denial as you, "No Gojo, I'm afraid it's true, it has been proven that what happened in that city was the work of Geto and not some curse. Therefore and as stipulated by law, Geto Suguru is now a deserter and is considered a cursed user".

That was the last thing you heard, before feeling a blip go through your ears, suddenly seeing everything black and losing consciousness.

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk x y/n #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satorugojo #satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x you #gojo fanfic #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen satoru

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mignonricciardo · 2 years

Text

3 AM | max fewtrell

max fewtrell, my favorite race car driver, streamer, and walking meme. this is heavily inspired by 3AM by Russ.

summary: drunken nights in Ibiza followed by 3 a.m. texts. what could go wrong? (5k words)

warnings: suggestive, borderline smut, sexting, cursing, alcohol/drinking, mentions of being sick to stomach, lando being a shit

The pounding in my head matches the pounding on the door, and I try to groan as I bury my head deeper into the pillows. The groan barely makes it past my dry throat and cracked lips, and it makes my stomach roll as the pounding on the door continues. I huff as I throw the heavy blankets off, stumbling to the mahogany door with a hand over my eyes from the sun filtering into the room. I open it to be greeted by Luisa and Lando who by the looks of it have fared the night better than I have.

“God, you look like shit,” Lando comments, pushing past me and into my room. “It smells like vomit and broken dignity in here.”

Luisa makes a face to offset the brazen nature of her partner, and without her here, I would have punched Lando so hard he would have wished he never woke me up. She holds out her hands, giving me an electrolyte drink and a bottle of ibuprofen, and I graciously accept them from her. Lando laughs loudly at the burp that passes from me after one sip of the drink, and Luisa looks even more apologetic. God, I must really look like shit.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” her voice is gentle as I flop back on to the bed.

I dig through the hazy memories from last night, trying to piece together the bits floating around in my brain, “Last thing I remember is the shots with Kygo. Then, it’s blank until we got back last night. I don’t even know how I got in here, but I remember taking a shower.”

Lando lifts the damp towel from the corner of the bed, and Luisa elbows him despite her smile, “Well, at least you took a shower.”

“You seriously needed one after last night,” Lando starts, voice grating to my ears as my head still pounds. “You were literally a mess. I can’t believe you were all over Max like that. We literally dragged you back-”

Lando stops when Luisa elbows him harder this time, but she’s a second too late as I whip my head to glare at Lando, “I was what!?”

I immediately regret my quick moves as the pounding in my head turns in an all out seizing, and my stomach rolls. I close my eyes again, breathing in sharply through my nose to try to prevent the rising bile up my throat. It’s no use, and I’m stumbling for the bathroom. Lando covers his ears as I empty whatever is left in my stomach into the toilet, and Luisa holds my still damp hair back for me. She asks Lando to bring her the drink she brought me, and he obliges despite squeezing his eyes shut as he approaches. I lean back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall as Luisa crosses her legs where she sits perched on the edge of the bathtub.

“Ok, somebody please fill me in,” I squint my eyes as I take another sip of the bottle.

Lando leans against the doorway, glaring at me despite the smirk playing at his lips, “Do you remember dancing with Max last night?”

I rub my eyelids, feeling flecks of mascara that I didn’t completely remove fall on to my cheeks, as I dig through hazy memories of the thumping club. I remember dancing with Max, something that hadn’t been weird as we’ve been known to gravitate toward each other in the club after a few drinks. My brain sends flashes of the night before across my vision—drink in my hands, his hands on my hips, my backside clearly pressed to his hips. I nod my head, “Just a bit of cheeky dancing between friends, Lando. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

Luisa mumbles a gentle oh, dear as Lando pinches in between his brows, “Oh, you so don’t remember.”

“Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself,” I groan, tipping my head back against the wall as my fingers continue rubbing my eyes. “Don’t let me touch tequila again on this trip.”

Luisa snaps her fingers at Lando, clearly trying to be the softer of the two, and she places a hand on my bent knee as her gentle voice fills the bathroom, “Well, you weren’t the only one embarrassing yourself. Max was rather, erm, into it, too.”

“Luisa, please just tell me what I did before I throw up again,” I groan, feeling my stomach rolling with the hangxiety already taking root.

Lando nudges his phone into my hand, and I wince as the pounding bass of the club nearly blows his phone speakers out. I’m even more mortified as I watch the video on the phone screen, and the two can see my cheeks turning red as I watch the moment play out. It’s so clearly Max and I just off to the side of the stage, my hand tucked behind his neck and fingers weaving through his hair as his head falls in the space between my collarbone and jaw. His hands are firm on my hips, tugging at the material of my dress as my hips sway with his. I practically shriek as last-night-me tips her head back to meet his lips, and suddenly, we’re full blown snogging in the club. I can hear our friends whooping and hollering in the video, and thankfully, the video stops before I have to witness much more of my drunken antics.

“We practically had to pull you off each other,” Luisa says quietly, voice gentle to keep me from making the situation appear worse.

“He was piss drunk, too,” Lando says as if it makes the situation any better. “Man was mumbling about you until he got to his room.”

“Please throw me off the boat today and proceed to hold me under,” I groan, eyes finally opening in the dim bathroom.

“Gladly,” Lando grins, laughing as Luisa reaches across to smack his arm. The two look at each other before turning back to me, and Luisa is sweeter, even with the smirk climbing her face, “We’re leaving in forty minutes for the boat. Maybe take another shower before you meet us?”

I’m thankful when I’m left alone again in my room, and I take a thorough shower this time—remembering every step compared to the night before. I stand under the stream of hot water for as long as I can bear it, and I step out when my head spins and stomach rolls. The white towel is huge as I wrap it around myself, and I start to feel a bit more human as I drink more from the bottle Luisa brought me. My phone buzzes on the granite counter, and my stomach drops when Max’s name pops up on the screen.

How are you feeling this morning?

I already asked Lando if he’d drown me on the boat later

Wowwww that bad huh?

I’ve never been more hungover in my life

I wait to say anything else, wondering which of us will be the first to bring up whatever happened last night between us. A text bubble pops up, and I’m grateful as we still tiptoe around last night.

No more tequila on this trip. Agreed?

I just gagged reading that. Absolutely agree.

Alright, make sure I stick to it. I don’t need a repeat of last night or this morning ever again.

Still sick?

Luisa brought me a drink and some medicine. Lando was acting so daft, but I couldn’t get anything out of him. Man is grinning like he knows something.

Right… I guess we were the drunkest last night.

Yeah…

He knows. Whether he remembers or he had an early morning debrief with Lando isn’t clear, but if one thing is clear, it’s that he knows what happened last night. I start typing, but my fingers quickly cease when I see a text bubble pop up from him. I wait with bated breath until his message appears.

I’m so sorry about last night. I feel like a right prick.

Wasn’t only you, Max. We were both drunk, and from the video, both very much at fault.

What video?

I groan as I toss my phone to the bed, cursing Lando as the phone dings again from Max.

Seriously what video

I’m going to kill him

You and me both

I’m a few minutes late to the lobby, and the group has already left while Luisa waits for me. She makes a comment that I look better than I did when she saw me earlier this morning, and she links an arm through mine as we exit the lobby. She lets me rant about Lando, and she holds back laughter as I tell her about Max texting me and revealing the existence of this video. When Lando helps us on to the boat, I threaten to throw him overboard. He just laughs as I pass and walk toward the deck. When I emerge around the corner, the group on the deck bursts into cheering and hollering, and Max buries his face in his hands as he groans for them to stop. I hold a middle finger up to the group, and they turn to laughter as Tom shakes Max by the shoulders. His face is bright red when he pulls his hands away, and I make sure to sit as far away from him as possible as I settle into the plush seating along the deck. As people take to the water, I remain on the rocking boat, fingers clutching the plush bench to keep from being sick again. I jump when something cold touches my arm, and my arm draped over my face falls back to my side.

“I figured you could use one,” Max says quietly, holding the dripping water bottle out to me. He glances over the side of the boat to make sure our friends aren’t paying attention to us.

I take the water bottle from his hands, cracking the lid before taking a sip. He watches me closely, eyes following my lips as they meet the edge of the cold bottle. I can feel my face burning red, and flashes of last night and the video pass through my mind again. He clears his throat as he looks away, pulling sunglasses back over his eyes as he leans into the plush bench.

“Thank you,” I say halfheartedly, eyes too busy watching him as he tips his head against the back of the plush seating. My eyes can’t help but drink him in, and while I’m secretly grateful for the white shirt on his torso, I curse the red board shorts that reveal more of his thigh than my brain can handle right now. His throat bobs as he takes a swig from his own water bottle, and I tear my eyes away to avoid embarrassing myself any further.

“I don’t want this to be weird, but after I nearly killed Lando, I made him show me the video,” Max mumbles out of caution. Our eyes meet beneath our sunglasses as we both look at each other’s face to see our reactions. Both of us are surprisingly calm, but my heart is hammering in my chest and palms starting to sweat. I nod my head for him to continue, “Jesus, we were a mess, yeah?”

I laugh quietly, nodding as I sit up from my lounged position. My leg brushes his as I adjust on the plush seat, “We were animals last night. We’ve been messy before, but not like that.”

The smile that creeps on his face makes some of my nerves over the situation dissipate, “Yeah, we’ve been messy before, but this was another level. I’ve never seen that side of you.”

“That drunk?” I laugh, leg brushing his again as I shift on the seat.

He shakes his head, voice hoarse as he leans in ever so slightly, “That confident.”

Any response I had ready dies on my tongue and words get lodged in my throat. Max stands to walk away, clearly aware of his words’ effect on me as my face burns red, and he turns around with a glance at me before he continues. His fingers wrap tighter around the bottle in his hand, and I want to slap myself for the way my eyes zero in on his white knuckles and nimble fingers. I’m grateful for the cold water bottle he brought me because I could use anything to distract me from the way his shorts cling to his thighs or how his curls sit perfectly imperfect on top of his head.

There are nonstop comments throughout the day, tiny digs or wiggling eyebrows, and I ignore them as best I can. My stomach still rolls with nausea, aggravated by the rocking of the boat, and, after my dicey encounter with Max, I spend most of the day lounging on the top deck with sunglasses over my eyes. Max doesn’t keep his cool as well—snapping on comments or yelling in his own defense. Every snap of his tongue is met with boisterous laughter, and I grin to myself on the empty deck, rolling over to get equal amounts of sun on my back as my torso. When I notice the red tinge on my skin clearly showing, I sigh as I make my way back toward the main deck to ask Luisa or Sav to put sunscreen on my back for me. I’m left mortified when I realize they’ve made their way back to the water, and Max is the only one around as he climbs up the ladder from his dip into the sea.

He doesn’t notice me at first as he shakes his hair with a beach towel, mussing his curls even more as they turn wild from the saltwater. His skin glows a deep tan in the setting Spanish sun, and water drips down his neck and back from his time in the sea beneath us. I force my eyes to look no further than the waistband of his board shorts because I’ll be utterly distracted by the way they cling to his muscular thighs. He sees me on the deck after a moment, skin beaming red and a bottle of suncream in my hands.

“You getting in?” he asks nonchalantly, trying to keep his eyes from tracing over my curves as flashes of the night before ping in his brain.

I shake my head, thankful for the sunglasses hiding most of my wandering gaze, “Still feel like shit and I’m not trying to get sick in the ocean right now.”

He grins, eyes hidden beneath his clear frames, “I barely made it back out.”

Silence lingers between us, each of us blatantly staring at the other. His teeth shine bright in the setting sun, and the orange glow makes his tan skin pop in contrast with his red board shorts. Our standoff borders on awkward as the silence stretches, and I realize it’s my turn to say something instead of continuing my gawking.

“I was looking for Luisa or Sav,” I motion to the bottle of suncream in my hand. “I’m already turning red, but I don’t want to get worse. I was going to ask them if they’d put more on my back.”

“Do you want me to?” Max asks, biting back the grin spreading on his face. His dimples briefly appear, “I mean, I don’t want you to end up sick with a burn now, too.”

“Max,” my voice trails off. I’m not sure what I was even going to say, and what should have been a warning—something saying maybe this wasn’t going to be a good idea—dies on my tongue.

His grin is full-fledged this time, dimples deep and canines on display, “No funny business. I promise.”

I huff, and without an answer, I pass him the suncream bottle. He takes it from my hand, our fingers brushing on the outside of the bottle, and I turn so my back faces him. He gathers my hair and moves it to one shoulder, and I bite the inside of my cheek when his fingers brush the base of my neck as he lays my hair flat. The bottle clicks as he opens the top, and I gasp slightly when the cool liquid touches my warm skin.

“Have you put this on at all?” he chuckles quietly, hands starting to rub the suncream into my red back. I take a sharp inhale through my nose before answering, trying my best to ignore his palms on my back, “Only once. I couldn’t get my back by myself.”

“Well, you could’ve asked earlier,” he says matter-of-factly, so focused on rubbing away the white cast that he is oblivious to my stifled breathing. “I gladly would have done it for you.”

“Gladly?” I smirk.

“Piss off,” he mumbles, but I can hear the smile as he speaks.

His hands glide in between my shoulder blades, and his fingers dip beneath the straps on my shoulders to cover the skin. He doesn’t miss the way my breath hitches this time, and I debate tossing myself into the water from here as his hands freeze. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, and that combined with the sea breeze sends goosebumps across my skin. He whispers all done before moving my hair back for me, and I turn back around to face him. Even beneath his sunglasses, I can feel his eyes on me. I pluck the bottle from his hands, a slight smirk tugging at my lips, “Your turn.”

He is hesitant but obliges, turning so his back is toward me. My hands work the product into his skin, and just for good measure, my fingers glide along the ridge at the top of his shoulder. Tendons at the base of his neck tense at my touch, and I giggle airily, “You’re tense. Long night last night?”

He groans, “You know exactly why. What happened to no funny business?”

“Just a taste of your own medicine,” I grin, closing the cap on the bottle. He turns back toward me when he hears it, and he suddenly feels way closer to me than the night before. Our eyes meet beneath our sunglasses, and I can’t help but notice the orange glint of the setting sun the corner of his frames are catching. His dimples distract me, and he gains control of the situation at my distraction, “You’re going to lead us down a dangerous road.”

“Well,” I grin, turning away from him to head back toward the upper deck, “we’ll see who breaks first.”

“Oh, you’re trouble,” he groans while I’m still in ear shot, and despite the confidence I had faced him with, butterflies erupt in my stomach and my skin burns where his hands had been. This was going to be a long trip.

The white duvet is soft against my burnt back, and I’m grateful for the cold shower that eased some of the redness and refreshed me after a long day on the ocean. The sky is dark now, lights from the Ibiza clubs visible across the skyline, and I wonder which club most of the group had ended up at. I rejected the invite even with Luisa’s begging. After last night, I could use a night in a time out. Plus, I didn’t trust myself to be out knowing Max would be there. The last 24 hours have been proof I can’t keep my cool around him. I toss and turn in the bed despite the exhaustion, and my brain flashes the image of Max and the feeling of his fingers on my shoulders or back every time I close my eyes. I glance at the time on the phone—3:03 AM. Against my better judgment, I click on the messages app and click on his name.

Remember, no tequila tonight

Not expecting a response, I close out of the app to scroll on social media, and I’m surprised when my phone buzzes immediately with a response.

No worries, I ended up not going. Stayed in to avoid any temptations.

Temptations?

Why are you still up?

He avoids my question by asking his own, and I’m grinning at the phone as I hold it above my face.

Can’t sleep. I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Hmm, do enlighten me

I roll over in the bed, imagining him spread out in the same manner, grinning at his phone as it lights up his face.

Well, for starters my back is on fire. Turns out your suncream application isn’t impeccable.

I’ve got aloe I can bring to you. You might need some help putting it on though

Don’t think I can do it by myself?

I’d love to see you try

I gasp at his words, heart hammering in my chest. This is clearly heading down a dangerous path, and we’re running out of options to turnaround. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, text bubble popping up on his screen as I mull over what to say. With a surge of confidence, I hit send.

You’d just love to see me needing a hand, wouldn’t you?

Depends what I’m helping out with

I can think of a couple things

Fuck

You have to be kidding me right now

My palms are sweating as a bubble appears and disappears a few times as he mulls over what to say now. I hold my breath as I wait for his third message to come through.

How burnt are you?

A thought grips me, and once it takes root, I’m powerless in fighting the lust making my brain hazy. I snap a picture in the dresser mirror next to the bed, pulling the hem of my big t-shirt just high enough that he can see my tan lines and shoulder blades in the ambient light of the room.

[1 image]

Might need some help with that aloe if you’ve got any

Need help with anything else?

Is this a booty call, Max Fewtrell? I thought I was just asking my friend to put some aloe on my back for me…

Tell me not to come up, and I’ll know it’s not a booty call

My fingers are struggling to type the message that I should be sending—the one telling him this was a mistake, a fluke of confidence. He must watch my text bubbles popping up on his screen before disappearing, and after a few minutes, another message appears from him that makes my heart pound and hands freeze.

Don’t think and use your words. You have to tell me if you want something, love.

My breath hitches as I read his words, and I’m ever aware of the effect just his words have on me. The minute I let him in here, no matter my intentions, I’m going to crumble with him in my space and my brain clouded by lust.

Am I going to taste the alcohol on you?

Talking about tasting me now?

It’s cute you’re trying to put this off, love.

Don’t call me that, Max. I can’t think straight when you do.

Would you prefer something else? Baby? Pretty girl?

My brain melts reading the words on my screen. Pretty girl pings around in my brain on repeat, and warmth spreads through my veins as a pit in my stomach opens up.

I’m in 312.

Are you sure you want me to come up? There’s no going back if I do

Get your ass up here before I send you another picture for keeping me waiting

I see that he read the message, and I leap from the bed to make sure I look okay before he arrives at the door. Like Max said, there’s no turning back, so when he knocks on the door, I’m slow to open the mahogany panel. We stand there in silence, breaths heavy, as we drink the other in. I’m in just my large t-shirt and a pair of knickers, and Max is wearing gray sweatpants and a loose tee. I’m lost for words when I look up to his face, appreciating the curve of his jaw complemented by dark stubble and his greenish-gray eyes beneath his clear glasses. He sticks a hand out with the bottle of aloe before shutting the door behind him, and I laugh nervously as I walk back toward the bed with the green bottle in hand. The white duvet is warmer than I remember, and I pick my fingernails nervously as he slips his shoes off before approaching the bed.

“So, which is it?” he smirks, and I quirk my eyebrows at his question. “Love? Pretty girl?”

My breath hitches as the terms fall from his lips—they sound even better than I had imagined from his lips. His dimples appear, and I brush my loose bangs back from my red face, “They all work.”

“Good to know,” he notes, sitting on the edge of the bed carefully.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him, but he says nothing about my shameless stare as my gaze drinks him in. He reaches a hand out across the bed slowly, palm cupping my cheek and fingers grazing the junction between my jaw and my neck. I must look pathetic to him as he does it, doe-eyed and lips parted as I can’t focus on anything besides his touch. His voice is gentle as he speaks, “I’m not going to say anything to them about this. This is between us and only us.”

I nod my head, voice shaking when the pad of his thumb brushes across my bottom lip, “I’m so happy we stayed in tonight.”

He chuckles quietly, eyes dark as they watch me, “Best decision all week.”

It’s not long before my hips are slotted over his, fingers grasping at his hair as our mouths meet. No alcohol, as he promised, but something more addicting and something I was entirely not ready for. My body comes alive under his smoldering touch, and the minute he whispers a term of endearment into my hair, my brain short circuits and I forget how to speak anything but his name. The club becomes a distant memory, replaced with his shoulders beneath my hands and his thigh slotting between my legs. He laughs as his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, and my fingers push them back toward his eyes despite the desperate pleas falling from my lips.

“Thank god we didn’t do this last night,” he huffs, staring at the ceiling. “I’d never forgive myself if I did this and didn’t remember.”

I can’t answer—lungs burning and brain foggy—so I just nod my head in agreement. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, and I’m grateful for his gentle care. Once we both catch our breath, and fatigue sets into my bones, we talk about random things, laughing and giggling like little kids rather than two friends who would have to address the line they crossed in the morning. I’m not sure what time we fall asleep, and while it was never my intention to have him stay the night, I stay wrapped in his arms all night.

The pounding on the door startles me, and when I wake up to check my phone for the time, I’m met with resistance as my hand hits a bare chest rather than my bedside table. Oh, fuck. I shake Max’s shoulders, and his eyes fly open. I hold a hand to his mouth, pointing at the door, and he mouths shit as he reaches for his phone.

“It’s me,” Lando says from the other side of the door, and my stomach nearly drops to my feet. “Have you heard from Max at all? We’re supposed to play golf, but I can’t get a hold of him.”

Our panicked gaze meets, and I clear my throat before answering, “Why would I have seen him, Lando? Didn’t he go out with you last night? Probably went home with some girl.”

Max pokes my side at my comment, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent laughter. We stay motionless in the bed, and I’m hyper aware of my naked chest pressed into his ribs as Lando stands on the other side of the door.

“He ended up staying back,” he says. “I assumed you two would have met up or something since you both stayed.”

As I think of a response, having trouble focusing as his arm slides down my back, Max’s phone starts to ring. On full volume. My stomach rolls, and even though Max reaches to silence it, it’s too late. Lando heard the ringtone on the other side of the door.

“Max Fewtrell, I know you’re in there!” Lando nearly yells, but we can hear the smirk on his face.

Max rubs between his eyebrows, sliding his thumb across the screen, “Hey, mate. What’s up?”

Once we’re both dressed in our clothes from the night before, I open the door slowly to see Lando and Luisa on the other side of the door. He must have texted her once he heard Max’s phone ringing in here. They take one look at our disheveled hair and the faint bruise on Max’s neck before high-fiving each other and laughing.

Lando snaps a quick picture of us standing next to each other, “Now this is too good.”

“All this for golf? Seriously?” Max scowls at his friend, ruffling his hair and adjusting his glasses. As he goes to leave, surely to answer more questions from his best friend, he turns to me, “We’ll go out tonight, yeah? Still got another round?”

Lando’s and Luisa’s jaws drop at his comment, and my cheeks turn red as I laugh, “See you later, Max.”

“Bye, love,” he grins, turning to Lando once he smacks him on the back of the head.

Once they’re out of earshot and I’ve thoroughly checked Max out as he disappears down the hallway, Luisa pushes herself into my room, “You have to tell me everything.”

“3 AM texts, Luisa,” I start, shutting the door behind her. “They can never mean anything good.”

#max fewtrell imagine #max fewtrell smut #max fewtrell #max fewtrell x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula one smut

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oumaheroes · 5 months

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OK- ok ok listen, so in you're do not got gentle series, in Ireland's one. it said that scotland offered to "help him go painlessly" so he wouldn't die of infection. but HOW did they kill him off tho? like that must have been difficult, especially at the age they were. I cant imagine it worked first time, like did they have to try multiple times?? IM SO CURIOUS PLEASE, I must feed my brain rot. please bestow this information on me

Alba has always been good with plants. Well worked leaves left as dark stains between his fingers, clumps of their flesh dark and stubborn under his nails. It is an old, careful knowledge he carries: which plants to pick for what effect, when and how best to collect them. How to strain them even without the specialised tools he wants, how long to boil them to release the best of their properties. He mumbles their seasons and duration under his breath on sleepless nights, tired eyes watching the stars as his brothers sleep nearby.

‘It matters,’ he makes sure to tell Albion as he demonstrates how best to pinch flower between forefinger and thumb, his brother too young to remember Mama’s teaching on the subject, ‘It matters. Always watch the moon and the weather before you pick anything, otherwise you can’t trust what it will do.’

Alba slips away down the hill fort as the humans sleep, Albion and Cymru left to guard. Some of the plants he seeks sit on the back of the hill itself, some lie deep within ancient woodlands- moss on cool roots and tubers under damp stone. He cannot wait until the time is just right, cannot wait until the moon hangs fat in the sky as some best need, but he makes sure that the stems fold plump as he plucks them, makes sure they are fresh and healthy. Many times Alba has prepared plants to ensure they do not harm, now he must collect to ensure that they do. They need to be strong; they need to be quick. There can be no mistakes, it is a cruelty Ériu does not deserve, and Alba picks prematurely with guilt and worry despite his confident promise.

Alba waits until Éiru says yes. Until he finally nods, teeth chattering and eyes bloodshot and desperate in sunken sockets. Only then does he hold a patiently blended paste to cracked lips, makes sure it is washed down with water till all is gone. And then after, holds the cool hand close so he can feel as it slackens.

It is kind. It is better.

And Éiru goes.

#hws Scotland #aph scotland #hetalia #hws #aph #Do Not Go Gentle AU #heroes writes

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christopherlovescats · 2 months

Text

A wet dream

!mature content!

Please read tags for trigger warnings ⚠️

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Here's some beautiful starcheaser smut.

"please games please. I just want to feel something" reggie's whiner then usual voise begged. "We can't fuck like this, reg. Look what a fucking mess you've become just because of some bloody alcohol."

James explained him, not for the first time. "then clean me up, Jamie, teach me how I should behave" reg whispered, heading to their bedroom. "Jamie, make me feel so I don't do it myself ?" He cryed out again, already on his knees.

with a deep stabling breath James answers "fine, but only to keep you away from this mindset." Of course James cares about regulus' health, mental end phisical, and he knows better then to keep him alone when he's thinking things like these.

Its just that reggie Looks so fine on those white sheets, shirtless, on his knees. his deep green eyes staring at James' body so desperatly. "Remember what we talked about" James starts "use. your. safeword." Regulus looks into James' eyes and whispers "ok".

reggie's hand was crawling twords his bag, that layed on the nightstand near the T-shirt that he took off. a moment after that- a small dagger was in his hand. reg opened the daggers case, witch made a smooth metal sound that alerted James quickly "move another inch and you're not cuming tonight." James' voice came out cold and comanding.

as expected, reguls dropped the danger at that very moment. James moved towards him, forcing him to slwl lay down on his back, between james' legs... "I want it to hurt, jamie" regulus whispered. "earn it" james replied. "Be a good whore so you'll deserve feeling anything at all" he mockeed, in that same cold, flat tone that made reggie shiver.

"I'll be good, I'll scream, and I'll moan and move so loudly for you, Jamie, just please touch me!" reg cried out at James while his fingers were working on opening James' button up shirt. Then kissing and touching James' color bones, James chest, James' thighs. regulus realsed a short whine when he got there. and James' hands ammidiatly climbed down from reggie's waist straight to his inner thighs. reggies mouth opend, but little air came in and out.

James bent down, one of James' legs is in between reggie's, now touching his cunt, and feeling how wet he was. James smiled proudly to himself. their lips are touching each other, on and off.

Jamie's hands run back down to pinch regulus'nipples. regulus cries out a moan, and another one feeling his pants getting so freaking wet with precum. James' lips move to reggie's Jaw, sucking.

"Jamie" reggie cries. wanting to do some thing with his hands, anything, but as soon as he tries, James reaches out and ties them with a tight knot behined his back. Soft, stretchy rope. "a good fuck-toy would never try to touch himself without asking" James hissed. reggie whimpered and moved around but then imidiatly stopped himself to say "Im So Sorry, Jamie".

"Open" James said. It was needless to say more. Reggie's legs spread apart emediatly. Finely, James pants and underwear are off, exposing his hard dick. Regulus couldn't stop himself from staring- while james puts on a condom, hands shaking, mouth opend. Regulus guides James' hands to his neck, then mumbles "be harsh with me". James hands close tightly.

#jegulus smut #starchaser #marauders era #plot what plot #hurt/comfort #alcohol #consent #they are madly in love #drunk #bdsmkink #angst #safe word #self destructive tendencies

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multifan2022 · 2 years

Text

part 4

Masterlist

Part 3 PART 2 PART 1

The silence between the two of you was heavy, you seeing how the last 24 hours had aged your brother already. And Rooster staring trying to wrap his head around the talk with his mom, and wondering if you were really awake. After a few minutes you smiled tiredly and whispered “Hey Chicken.” Bradley laughed quietly and reached up to kiss your forehead, tears streaming down his cheeks in relief. “Hey Ducky.”

When he sat back down you kept smiling and whispering as his hand latched back onto yours, “I saw dad.” Bradley nodded and whispered back “I saw mom.” You nodded, closing your eyes for just a second before reopening them “We have to forgive Mav..” Bradley again nodded and quietly agreed, he could see that you were still exhausted. You were fighting to keep your eyes open and it was a losing battle. “So tired Brad” you whispered almost in a slur as he told you it was ok, to go back to sleep. “Gonna prank Jake..” You slurred again just before your breathing evened out.

Your brother chuckled and shook his head before laying back down himself. This time to truly sleep instead of just resting his eyes. He didn't know how long he slept before he felt someone shake him lightly. Mav and Ice standing at the end of the bed and Jake had been the one to shake him awake. Rooster turned and looked at you to see you were still asleep, so he kept his voice low as he spoke. “She woke up last night, only for a minute but she was there.”

Jake sat up straighter, “Like she was awake awake?” Rooster nodded, “Enough so to call me chicken.” They all chuckled a little, relief palpable in the room as they all talked about ordering in breakfast. While they were talking you opened your heavy eyes, listening and waiting for them to decide where to order food from. Once they decided you spoke softly, startling them. “A chocolate chip waffle, with bacon sounds like heaven”.

Jake almost fell out of his chair trying to spin to look at you, tears at his lash line as he looked into your eyes. “Hey Sugar, how ya feeling?” You forced your face to look confused, your brows pinching together as you looked at your handsome blond cowboy. Part of you felt a little bad, you could see the relief on his face and really shouldn't be pranking him. But you genuinely couldn't help it. Rooster had to turn himself almost around in effort to not face you and laugh. Maverick and Ice shook their heads knowing what was coming next.

“I'm sorry.. Who are you?”

Jake's heart fell into his stomach. Did you not remember him? Was it possible you only remembered the time before him? Of course you would remember Rooster, he was your twin. But him? He only panicked for a second before he caught Bradley's body posture and the gig was up. So he decided to give as good as you were and pushed out a fake sob. “I'm the love of your life baby! Its me.. You should remember my name.. It's Jake, you were screaming it about two nights ago, pretty loud if I remember correctly. Something about me being the best you had ever had.”

Your face paled as your eyes shot to your godfather and uncle. Ice was glaring at Jake while Mav was pinching the bridge of his nose, already over it. You looked to your brother, who was biting his fist trying to hold back the laughter you knew wanted to break out. Turning back to Jake, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can in your situation. “I'll tell you, you're the best I've ever had if you order me a waffle.” You push your bottom lip out for extra effect, like you ever needed it. The four men in the room would have ordered every single thing on the menu if you had said you didn't know what you wanted.

Jake laughed boisterously and reached up to press a soft kiss to your lips before saying he would run back to your apartment and grab you some clothes. Ice stepped out to place the food order and wait for it to be delivered. Leaving you and your brother with Pete, who was just awkwardly standing there. You took a deep breath, waiting until he locked eyes with you. When he did, you smiled and said “I got to talk to my dad.” Pete audibly sucked in a breath but you kept talking before he could respond. “Roo talked to mom, they told us why you pulled our papers. We understand now, I'm sorry we were so difficult. I'm sorry for leaving, and the things that we said, I understand now why you did it. Ill always love you Mav, you'll always be my favorite uncle.”

Pete's eyes filled with tears as Bradley gave a similar speech, and when Ice peaked back into the room the three of you were hugging. All whispering apologies and promising to be there and be better. He smiled, happy that things seemed like they would look up from now on, and went back to waiting for the food.

1 YEAR LATER

Carol had been right, the path to recovery was long and hard. You suffered from a TBI, the doctors assumed your head must've hit something on the way out of the jet. You had frequent but random bouts of dizziness, fogginess, grogginess, nausea, forgetfulness. No longer able to fly, you stayed home for a while before Ice found you a spot teaching on base. But for a while you were even unable to do that.

There where nights Jake would wake up in a cold sweat and spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, just to make sure you were still breathing. Nights Bradley would show up barefoot, having run across town in a panic to get to you. Maverick would call at random times throughout the night after waking up from a dream about your crash or Gooses. Bradley spent the first month after the incident on your couch, and Jake would often hear him come into your room to check on you during the night.

Jake and Bradley dealt with your attitude constantly flipping, quick tempered and agitated or frequent anxiety attacks. It was exhausting on everyone but every single day it got just a little better. Jake never once thought about leaving, not the nights he woke up to you screaming in your sleep. Not the nights he physically had to restrain you in your sleep. Not the days you spent in bed doing nothing but sleeping. Not when Ice decided to give him a permanent station in Fallon.

He stayed strong in his love for you, thinking that he may have fallen even harder watching you fight so hard to get back to a place where you could live. That's why he decided that it was time, time to take a family vacation. So he got everyone approved for a week, the entire Dagger team boarded planes and landed hours later in Orlando. Everyone had been grouped off into little Polynesian bungalows to stay in and they spent day after day going to the different parks and doing what they could. Your doctor had gone through and given Jake a list of approved rides, and while you couldn't ride everything you appreciated what you could.

The second to last day you were there Jake had announced at breakfast that he had booked a gym for the guys for the morning. Phoenix spoke before you could make a comment about them needing to go to the gym on vacation. Tell you that you, her. Halo and Bradley's girlfriend were going to have a spa day. You all made your way to Zahanati Massage and Fitness in Animal Kingdom. Jake kissed you just as passionately as he always did before winking and promising to see you later.

A swedish massage and facial later, Nix told you that they guys were still doing some weird work out and she had something else planned. She swore it was something you had always wanted to do and said Bradley, Ice and Mav had set it up. Trusting the three men you let her blindfold you, put you in the back of a car and lead you to the next event.

When you were allowed to look you almost squealed with excitement. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique had been rented out and closed for the day. Meaning you four were the only ones there, and about to get ‘Princess makeovers’. Something that you had always wanted but never been able to do as a kid, and as an adult it just never seemed practically. You would have felt silly asking Jake to wait for you to do it while you were here the first time. But now, Jake was nowhere to be seen and you were not going to turn it down. The stylists smiled knowingly and told you that even though it was normally for children they were happy to do it for you. They only thanked you for your service once before getting to work and treating you like a normal person.

They did a Rapunzel style braid with flowers and sparkly pins, leaving it loose enough to not pull on your head. Light champagne colored eye makeup, light blush and a terracotta colored lipstick. A necklace was placed around your neck that held two initials on either side of a crown charm, a J and yours. Your nails were painted a sparkly silver color as they gave you a manicure and a pedicure. They paused as someone brought in a light dinner for you all to eat. You were shocked that the entire day had gone by so quickly. It hurt your heart a little to go almost an entire day without Jake.

You had gotten so used to him always being around that it was weird to go this long without hearing from him. Little did you know, Nix had been sneaking photos and updates to him and all the guys as they got things set up. Again they reminded you that they were normally for kids so a dress had been dropped off for you. Sent by a woman named Sarah (Ices wife), it was beautiful and fit perfectly. A light gold, A line, asymmetrical, chiffon spaghetti strap dress was soft and smooth against your skin as a worker helped zip you up.

(Sorry if you dont like it, then imagine what you want.)

When you came out, the girls all gushed over how wonderful you looked. You were having so much fun you never stopped to ask what this was about, or what you were going to do now that you were in a dress. A knock at the door caught your attention as a familiar mustached man stepped in, planting a kiss on his girlfriend before turning his attention to you. “Ducky, you look beautiful. Go for a walk with me?” You nodded and took his outstretched hand, letting him lead you through paths you hadn't walked down before. He stopped in front of Bay Lake and turned to look at you.

“You know.. Four or five years ago, I didn't think I would ever like Jake. But somewhere along the way we became friends, and now he's like the brother I never asked for.” You both chuckled as he continued “Now I feel comfortable passing you over into his care.. Just know that I will always, forever be only a call or text away. And even though he is bigger than me.. I will fight him.” He turns and gives you a dazzling smile, his face glowing gold in the sunset. Your heart was warm but your brain was confused, why was he talking like he wouldn't see you tomorrow or the next day?

But before you could answer, a boat horn made you jump so hard that you almost fell in your heels, Bradleys hands having to quickly catch you. You both turn glaring towards the noise, only for yours to melt away when you see Jake standing there in blue jeans tucked into his favorite boots. His belt buckle as big as his smile, a crisp white shirt buttoned and tucked into his jeans and his hair styled perfectly. When the boat reached the dock he jumped off quickly making his way to you with an approving once.. Or twice over, making your brother roll his eyes. “You almost scared her into the water.” Bradley said annoyed.

Jake just ignored him, eyes set just on you as he kissed your lips lightly. “You look.. God.. You look gorgeous, Sugar.” His tone was low and warm, like a salve over your skin, warming you from the inside. He pressed his lips to yours once more before turning, shaking hands with Rooster, then leading you onto the deck of the small boat. When he sat you down at a table far too big for two, you noticed a ridiculous spread of your favorite desserts.

French toast souffle, chocolate fondue with pound cake, flavored marshmallows, graham crackers, or even pretzels, Strawberries and banana slices. Smores, cookies, cakes, cheesecakes and finally the raspberry and honey marshmallows his momma makes. Sparkling juices and sodas also fill the table, in place of the champagne you're not allowed to drink. Jake had not touched an alcoholic drink since the day the doctor told you that you needed to stop.

He spent the next hour hand feeding you small bites of whatever looked best too you. Smiling and listening fully as you told him about your day, and the few things you wanted to do the next day before leaving. The decorations you had bought to be sent back to your apartment, the gifts you had purchased, which ride had been your favorite. He listened to it all, then out of the corner of his eye the waitress tapped her wrist, telling him it was time to get the show on the road.

Clearing his throat he stood, offering his hand, only having to wait a moment before you took it and he led you to the back of the boat. Thankfully you didn't notice the other person crouching low holding a camera ready to photo the entire thing. Taking a deep breath he turned and looked at you, “I got something to get out, and I need you to promise not to interrupt me.” You nodded, slightly confused but stayed quiet as he fidgeted with his belt buckle.

“I will never be able to say that I knew from the day I met you that you were the one. I fought being attracted to you so hard because of your brother, and that's probably a regret I will carry to my grave. Because being with you has been the most exciting, wonderful thing to ever happen to me. Loving you and being loved by you is more exhilarating than being in the air. You healed pieces of me I didn’t know needed healing. You cared for me when I didn’t know I could use that extra love. You brought out the happiness in me I didn’t know existed. You’ve made me feel more alive than I ever have. I fell in love with you not knowing what love really was. I stayed in love with you because there’s no one or nothing I’ve ever wanted more than you. I will forever be in love with you because I can’t picture even a second of my life without you. You have something of mine though Sugar. You had it in the first look and never really left the possession of it…my heart. Even if we didn't know it, I think I became yours that first night. And if you’re planning on keeping it forever, we might as well seal the deal.”

Tears were streaming down both your faces as he got down on one knee. An Oval Morganite and 3/4 CT. T.W. Diamond Scallop Frame Engagement Ring in 14K Two-Tone Gold ring in his hand. “Marry me, My gorgeous girl. Be mine forever, I'll be yours for just as long.” You almost screamed “YES” throwing yourself at him, barely giving him time to stand after slipping the ring on your finger. He stumbled back a step but thankfully caught you and held you closely. After a few moments, fireworks started going off behind you, silhouetting you both in glitter sky colors. Over the loud booms, Jake could still hear you when you pulled back and smiled up at him. “I have something I need to tell you too.”

He paused, resting his forehead against yours, eyes never leaving yours as you spoke the next words. The ones that made him even happier than your previous answer. “I'm pregnant.”

This ring is actually from the disney collection at Zales. Its one of my personal favs. again if you dont like it, use your imagination lol.

@rosiahills22 @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm @candid-confetti @yeonimii @luckyladycreator2 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @tallrock35 @multistangirl07 @avis15 @hopefulinlove @sarahjoestewy-blog @capricorn-anon @dempy @topstory21 @maverick-wingman @lostdreamr-blog1 @wildxwidow @rosagummihuhn @mortallyspookyglitter @whateverbagman @strength-in-healing @shanimallina87 @thorin-oakenshield-2345 @justanothermagicalsara @bookaholics-stuff @multifandomfangirll @archaeologydigit @multiplefandommess @theforevermorereject @harper1666

#Jake Seresin imagine #Jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin push up #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #gooses daughter #bradshaw daughter

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shroomsroom · 3 days

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can you please do a johnny cade smut with him being dominant and praising you (and a bit of squirting if that's okay?) thank you!

ok i can do this guys massive + PROMINENT age up because johnny cade is 16 at the time of the book. (pretend the book didn't happen tho ! ) it's been years since you last saw johnny. you met in 5th grade and instantly hit it off. when you were both 16 you had to pack up and leave. your goodbye was bittersweet, with promises to return and to write. now it's been around 7 years, you've graduated and are returning to tulsa to settle down. you know on the door lightly, you don't know where johnny is, but you've asked and some people said to check the curtis brother's house. "hel-? y/n!" darry opens the door, although you werent very close he's still warm to you and invites you inside. "y/n?!" you hear a familiar voice shout. "hi johnny!" you smile, running to hug him. he, along with you, have grown so much and he looks more mature with a hint of his baby face. "it's been so long!" he says, squeezing you tighter. time passes quickly, getting caught up on what you've both been doing, eventually johnny takes you back to his small apartment. "unfortunately, i don't have a roll-out or a second bed for you.." he says as you step into his apartment. "it's fine" you laugh lightheartedly, "we'll just do what we did when we were kids." you remember the time you shared a bed but placed pillows in between you as a wall. he snickered and led you to his bedroom. the bed was comfortable to rest in but you woke up multiple times during the night. you rubbed your face with your hand, letting out a sigh because of your terrible sleep. "you awake?" johnny asks you, his voice was groggy and strained. "sorry, can't sleep well." "'s fine, me neither," he inches closer to you, envloping your body in a hug. you sucked your breath in, old feelings resurfacing. "i can give you more pillows if you want," he says "just not tired," you swallow thickly, theres a moment of silence before johnny speaks "i can make you tired," you don't know how you ended up like this, face down ass up, stuffed full with johnny's dick. all you know is that this is no longer the same boy who was scared of sharing a straw with you because that would be "kissing" . "fuuuckk" you cry, long drawn out moans matching with johnny's pace. "feel so good, can't believe i was missing out on this for 3 years" he groans, smacking your ass, his pace growing faster. you moan out again as johnny's hand finds your tits, kneading and playing with them. "did you miss me when you went off to college?" he asks, pinching your skin roughly. you let out a whimper, too gone to put together a sentence. "c'mon baby. use your words," his pace slows to a still, and you cry out in frustration. "yes, fuck, yes i missed you so much!" you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. he picks up his pace again, fucking you rougher and harder than before. "i can feel it, your pussy is clenching me so tight," he groans. "fuck-fuck, oh my god. johnny 'm close" you babble, words slurring together "cum on my cock darling, you can do it" he leans down and whispers into your ear. your eyes roll back into your head, clenching down on him. you collapse on the bed while juices squirt out of you. "holy shit, y/n" johnny says, you turn your head back questioningly only to see his pelvis soaked in your juices. you blush, embarrassed. "oh-." "did you know you could do that?" he asks, you bite your lip and shake your head. "that was so sexy, we should try it again," he says, flopping down next to you. you laugh, a blush forming on your face. "did i make you tired?" he asks, sincerely. "of course," you smile at him. he returns the smile. "oh! maybe we should take a shower first"

#shroomsroom #clara'sroom #the outsiders x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade x reader smut #johnny cade smut

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ankhisms · 1 year

Text

ok one lovely person said they wanted to read the writing practice i mentioned being tentative about sharing so here <3 i have some notes and thoughts as well included. since the dont reblog function is still broken pls dont rb this thanks

as a disclaimer i am very rusty with prose which is why im trying to practice it at all since ive mainly been writing poetry and not any prose for the past few years since i felt discouraged about writing prose but now im trying to get myself to practice again. also one thing im aware of is that i have a tendency to accidentally switch between tenses so if you notice that yes i know its something im working on. also both of these arent finished they have gaps between action and thoughts which ive noted in the text

for this first one i havent written the beginning establishing the setting and everything but the premise is hiromu has a dream where he and enter are sitting at a cafe in paris and shenanagins ensue. well not really shenanagins its just a conversation i think their dynamic is interesting and i wanted to explore it in a more neutral not battle related setting so thats why i wrote this

---

(beginning and descriptions of surrounding add here)

hiromus narrows his eyes, "did you hack into my dreams?"

this causes enter to scoff, "really, red buster, you wound me," he rests his chin against his palm and explains, "i havent hacked into anything. you called me here."

"thats ridiculous," says hiromu, blunt even when sleeping.

enter smiles, "oui, ridiculous, perhaps, but it is true none the less. it would be rude of me to refuse an invitation, dont you agree?" he pauses, and leans over the table to add, "besides, i wouldnt lie to you- at least not here."

hiromu doesnt like that one bit, nor does he believe anything enter could possibly say. still, its not as if enter had invaded his subconciousness and just started torturing him with computer cables. compared to the more avian related nightmares hiromu had, this was pretty tame.

he briefly tries to recall anything he could have possibly read before, even in passing, about how to wake yourself up from a dream. unfortunately for hiromu the only thing that comes to mind is how to wake up a buddyroid from sleep mode. too bad he doesnt just have some kind of power switch like nick or usada. but maybe something similar to that could work, some kind of jolt to his system. people pinch themselves when theyre dreaming, right? or was it something about holding your breath? hiromu cant remember which one is supposed to work, so with a deep inhale he starts pinching his arms.

to enters credit, he doesnt immediately laugh like a madman upon seeing hiromus cheeks puffed out while he frantically pinches his arms. the most he lets out is a quick snort, before reaching over the table to pat hiromus cheek, "your manners are awful," enter says, "weve only just said hello and youre already trying to wake up. you cant possibly hate me that much, mon cher."

the hand against his cheek is warm. of course, most peoples hands should logically be warm to touch, but not enters. the projection of a human shouldnt be warm. did jin ever feel warm? hiromu doesnt feel keen about playing back all the moments during battle when enter had gotten close enough to possibly feel some kind of heat. thus, thinking about his avatar team mate is the better option. except he cant recall any time jin had ever felt warm either. does a dream offer an avatar more humanity somehow?

hes thought about it for too long perhaps, because he hasnt replied and enter is starting to look at him curiously, and so hiromu decides he can dwell on it when hes actually awake. he lets out his breath and swats away enters hand with a scowl for good measure. enter feigns an exaggerated pout, but then he settles back in his seat all the same, keeping his hands to himself.

hiromus cheek still feels warm and itchy, but hell be damned if he lets enter know something he did got under his skin. this too is like a battle, the enemy can find weaknesses even in the smallest of movements. he restrains himself from scratching his face, opting instead to glare more at enter across the table.

his enemy looks different in the cerebral parisian landscape theyve found each other in. for one thing, hes actually wearing civillian clothes rather than his usual long coat or any of his attempts at disguising himself. with enter perched opposite of him wearing a dark turtle neck and a caramel sweater, hiromu is struck by the jarring realization that the avatar almost looks like a normal person. almost, if one didnt already know that the man sitting there was made of code rather than flesh and bone.

eyeing him carefully, hiromu thinks that he catches the slightest glitch at the edge of enters face, an abnormality that is gone by the time hiromu has noticed it. enter may have decided to wear something a little more reasonable for this encounter, but he still isnt fooling hiromu. even in a fashionable sweater theres something off about him.

the rest of his attire aside, he does still have those ridiculous goggles pushed up against his brow, because of course he does. he would fit the part of a cafe loving paris tourist better if he had a silly little beret instead of his trusty eyeware, but hiromu doesnt particularly feel like pointing that out. seeing enter flounce around in a beret isnt exactly an enjoyable thought at the moment.

(add something here)

"ive heard about people going to paris for the first time and getting sick from the shock of how dirty it is," hiromu says, "you should be glad it doesnt smell here."

enters nose wrinkles, "dont say that, you'll ruin my appetite"

"so you have an appetite? its not like you need to eat, right?"

the avatar shrugs, and carefully picks up his fork, saying, "i may have no need for food to survive, but that doesnt mean i cant enjoy it." enter takes his time with slicing off a chunk of the lemon cake between them, and continues, "theres things humans dont need but do none the less, non? your lives are so short after all, why not chase after every little pleasure."

seeming satisfied with himself, enter takes a bite, eyes closed with an exaggerated look of bliss. whatever emotion it is that enter has been trying to elicit from hiromu, hes just growing more annoyed, rolling his eyes and pointedly turning his body away from the cake.

(add something here)

hiromu stands up with a jolt, and the screeching sound of his chair breaks what little illusion of idle cafe chatter this dream had left to offer. he fumes, fists clenched with his gaze set firmly on enter, who only barely looks up to offer a smug smile.

"we," hiromu spits out the word disdainfully, "are nothing alike. theres nothing to compare between us."

despite the outburst of his dining companion, enters expression remains unchanged. if anything, hiromus insistance upon distancing himself has only amused enter further. he laughs, throwing up his hands half heartedly, as if they were old friends having a casual debate rather than mortal enemies with their blades always at each others throats.

"i suppose we should leave it at that then," enter reaches for one final bite of cake, clearly enjoying himself, "this has been lovely, you really should invite me more often, ma puce."

"go to hell," hiromu tells him, and lunges to try and land a punch against that awful smile.

by the time hiromus fist reaches where enters face would have been, the avatar has already disintegrated into a burst of code. orange numbers and the distant sound of laughter linger for a moment in the air, before hiromu blinks awake in his room.

---

this second one i wrote before the first one and im still not very happy with it and might scrap it and try to rewrite it. i couldnt decide what point of view i wanted to write it from between third person pov or vaguely enter talking so it feels muddled to me. this was mainly a kind of train of thought because i had and still have a lot of thoughts about the avatars and what it means to be human and what it means to be an avatar and if they can feel things etc along with enter and escape being their own people and having their own identities and lives. but i feel like i didnt exactly get all the thoughts that i wanted to convey across very well so again im probably going to rewrite this at some point lmao

86 billion neuron cells, with another million billion synapses connecting the spaces in between, all sending information to and from the brain, the extremities and sensory organs having gathered data from the outside worlds stimulation in order to help the human machine function.

from ancient calculating tables and tally sticks, to early machines reading punch cards, to alan turings first thought of the modern computer, you could trace an avatars lineage back to the very first time a human began to count just as easily as you could to any of these.

enter and escape are not any of the doomed researchers that crossed the gap between dimensions, whos data was cleanly picked apart from their miserable mortal bones and woven back into the code of their forms. perhaps you can not fault those same humans for their squeamishness at the thought of any person being undone in such a way, let alone a family member. really, nature has functioned like this long before the first digital computer ever graced the earth with its code.

when a deer falls dead in the forest its body becomes food for the rest of the life among the trees, and in time its flesh decomposes and turns to soil. another one bites the dust only to offer up a meal for the starving masses. you are born, you die, and someone finds a way to steal from you long after youre gone. c'est la vie, as we say.

think of it, dear reader, as such; a thousand photos lie before you of humans. pictures of people from across the world, some of them seeming familiar and some of them with faces unknown to you. you can thumb through as many as youd like, but in the end you will always come to the same realization that somewhere, within these people, are bits and pieces of yourself. this one, looking off camera against a gray sky, has your nose. this person, leaning against a bridge and failing to strike a good pose, has your eyes. the next person will have your smile, ectera ectera. you get the picture- ha.

even if you were not flipping through a book of old family records you would still spot bits of yourself in people far away and long dead. this, mon cher, is how i see best fit to consider what it means to be created from composite data, for i assure you one need not be an avatar to be formed in such a way. you have been strung together from bits and pieces of every person your ancestors ever loved.

love, ah. thats another subject we must discuss, sooner or later, i suppose. can a machine love? really now, i wish you would find something else to ask. anything else would be a more stimulating topic of conversation. why must we agonize over such messy details? humans simply can not stop themselves from philosophizing until theyve got nothing left to make a philosophy out of.

what does it matter if a machine could or couldnt love, when plenty of stinking humans have never even thought to act on the very principle they obsess over. love. let us not get sidetracked by such nonsense, we still have other aspects to examine.

delete that last input, page back with me, now think again on the subject of data, and of rebirth. the doomed researchers are not escape, nor are they enter, just as much as you are not the person who first gave you a specific gene in your dna. the researchers were a sample for an experiment greater than any they had ever run through before. do you get it now? do you understand? of course you wouldnt. humans are foolish enough to think they are one of a kind.

forget about if a machine loves, just what can an avatar feel? if their coding is to be equated to the human nervous system, then is it so hard to consider that they too could find the many vices of the earth pleasurable? enter cursed himself for spoiling messiah, having given the virus too much of a taste of just how splendid human suffering could feel. he was taught pleasure too soon, and greed was already something he knew from birth. enter should have known better than to offer up a plate of food he could not continue to harvest sustainably- not yet, at least. especially when the one gobbling down that harvest throws a tantrum the moment its all gone.

really, is it so terrible to ask for a thank you once in a while? you would think that after devoting your existence entirely to a single being, you might get a few bones thrown your way. in this we could draw another parallel between the humans and machine, where enter is scorned by his messiah in the same vein as humans praying for salvation from some unforgiving god.

i am drifting off course. forgive me, you see a machine can ramble just as easily as a human, non?

---

ok yay thanks if you read all or any of this honestly i appreciate it. id love any feedback anyone has including constructive criticism from writer friends but i just ask that you maybe try to be a little gentle with me and remember that im very rusty yknow but i do still appreciate any thoughts or helpful tips thank u again mwah

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