#//if you want me to change anything just let me know! :>

[laedevoltaagain]

Bom dia, comunidade!

[girl-lostconnection]

Acceleration AU (part 3) 4.5k

Warnings: Plus size!fem!Reader, Soap x Simon, Simon x Reader, Reader x Soap, Reader is mad as fuck, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy attachment, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, insecurities, Reader slutshames herself a little, touchy Simon

You don’t know what the fuck are you doing out in this bloody pub, nursing your fruity cocktail and trying to pull your skirt lower.

It’s dim-lighted here, entirely too warm and crowded for your comfort. But the stubborn pride, the aching pit in your stomach don’t let you get up and leave like you usually would.

No, you aren’t leaving until you get what you came for.

Simon’s words are still ringing in your ears, Simon’s voice digs a hole inside of you the size of a fucking coffin. You feel like lying down in this hole and burying yourself down there.

But it’s not fair. It isn’t fucking fair and you refuse to wallow in your own misery just because you are getting your heart broken. Just because the man you spent your whole life with found himself a relationship.

(Doesn’t matter if you weren’t exactly in a relationship with him. Doesn’t matter that you never talked who you are to each other. Doesn’t fucking matter)

There is a scratch on the inside of your skull and the scratch suspiciously feels the same way worried eyes of Johnny “Soap” MacTavish feel when you almost throw a bloody mug of tea in Simon’s face.

When you got so mad you felt like screaming and raging, like moving away and changing your name and never saying another bloody thing in your entire life. Joining a covenant maybe.

[ “You could’ve said that you want me here for Christmas.”, - Simon is one heavy silence in a trenchcoat, arms crossed over the chest, lips thin line of a frown.

You know he hates this conversation. You know he hates fighting.

You need to do it anyway.

“You could’ve asked. You know it’s important. You know what it means and how much it matters.”, you are upset beyond anything, Soap’s tense shoulders just adding to the heat of the moment.

Because it’s not his bloody fault, because Simon is a grown man who should’ve known better than to throw a bone your way.

Not when he knows you snarl at things like that.

“I’m a grown man, luv. I don’t need your bloody permission to go somewhere, you are not my mum”, Simon snaps, eyes heavy. You know he’s becoming defensive now, that Soap looking uncomfortable as hell just agitates him further. That you being this upset drives him up the wall.

“Thank fuck”, you spit out and leave, ignoring his heavy steps right behind you, ignoring the way he tries to stop you, ignoring the “luv, please, it’s getting dark already”.

Because Simon cares, of course he fucking cares, you know that and you know him.

But the ugly roaring in your head chants “hate you-hate you-hate you” and you slam the door on your way out.

Doesn’t make you feel any better.]

There is a hole inside of you the size of a coffin and you intend to fill it today.

Because you are not a bloody placeholder. You deserve love. You deserve attention.

You deserve consideration and care.

But you’ve also been so lonely and god knows you want to feel wanted. Even if just for tonight. Even if it’s a little bit and not exactly what you crave.

Can’t get everything you want, right?

So you let the stranger kiss you, his smile grazing your skin, his hands on the small of your back and he’s very bloody respectful all things considered.

And in any other circumstances you would appreciate it.

But you are not looking for a date. You are looking for…what are you even looking for? Absolution? An answer? Warm body next to yours?

You don’t know so you just press yourself tighter into the man, soft sound escaping your throat when he murmurs something — your head swimming from heat and taste of sugar on his lips. It’s intoxicating.

It numbs the ache in your chest, it warms up the ugly slick parts of you that throb for entirely different hands and eyes.

Stranger’s name is nice but simple, something along the lines of Gary or maybe Harry (you didn’t listen and now are forced to just call him “hon”), his eyes are impossibly green, his smiles wide enough to remind you Soap.

You don’t know why he reminds you Soap. Because John MacTavish is broader, shoulders wider and arms meatier — honed bulk of muscles stretching his fatigues taut.

John MacTavish has tiniest freckles in the world, has small white strip of scar crossing his right eyebrow and has absolutely sinful lips.

You get why Simon is mad about him.

You take a breath, sound a little shakier than intended, but your newfound date takes it as the compliment, rumbling in your collarbones that you are “so gorgeous. Prettiest bird I saw”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling the man closer, hands wrapping around his shoulders, your back pressed into the wall behind you.

Why do you even think of Soap in this situation?

The guy presses kisses to your neck, nips at the soft skin, groans “right beauty, doll, can’t get enough of ya” and you decide that if you can’t think of anything other than bloody Soap, you aren’t gonna think at all.

You are gonna let the bloke, whose bloody name you can’t remember for the life of you, touch you more, you are gonna lead his palm between your thighs, you are gonna let him rub the wet heat of you.

Hungry gnawing creature in you getting greedier with each touch, gripping on stranger’s wrist, throwing her head back, doing things she shouldn’t.

But you’ve been doing everything you should all this time and it had been getting you absolutely nowhere.

So you let the guy get you off, his teeth grazing your throat, his fingers sending shivers down your spine, your core molten hot and in the moment you feel so good.

You feel on top of the world, smiling like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Smiling like you know how pretty you are.

The guy (god, now you will remember him as “The guy” only, there’s no way you are gonna remember his name. No matter how good his fingers are) kisses your neck and jaw, murmurs sweet nothings.

And for a few blissful moments you are high on pleasure, pliant from his warmth and soft in your satisfaction.

For a few moments you feel whole.

Then it all comes crashing down.

Because the high never lasts long enough, because there’s not a bloke in this pub that can sate the creature in your chest.

You feel so sick you want to crawl out of your own skin, you want to run, you want to hide and scratch your make up off and scratch this fucking dress off.

The guy (god bless the bloke) carefully tucks you in a cab, kisses your forehead and murmurs “don’t need to cry, doll, it’s okay. Call me tomorrow if you’d like, yeah? I’d love to take ya out” and leaves his number in the pocket of your coat.

He pays for your cab and doesn’t try to leave with you.

For some reason his kindness makes you feel even worse.

Because it’s not fair. Not to him, nor to you. Because you were out to be stupid and to have fun and to get yourself off. And you did it, crossed out all bulletpoints off your bucket list.

Why doesn’t it get much better?

You get home at the wee hours of the morning, floorboards creaking under your weight as you kick your heels off and then the light switch clicks on.

You freeze like a deer in the headlights, looking at Simon who looks less than impressed.

Simon in sweatpants and a sweater you were wearing this morning.

Simon with heavy tension in his shoulders that you know will ache like hell in the morning, tension pain climbing up to his neck.

But he used up all your patience and you are not in the mood for reprimand, you are a grown woman, you can deal with your own shit.

You can do it without him.

Simon’s eyes linger on your neck, muscle in his jaw twitching. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, something swelling in his eyes with the force of incoming tsunami. Tectonic plates shifting, oceans boiling, something big roaring to the surface.

But fuck him. Fuck him and his moods and his blond lashes and his pretty fucking boyfriend.

Fuck them both.

“Don’t.”, you spit out with such rage it surprises both of you, hiss so wounded it’s a miracle you aren’t crying.

It makes Simon snap out of whatever he’s been conjuring in his head, mouth opening again but this time his lips twist into a frown.

“Luv, wha’- did someone hurt ya?”, there is a shift in his demeanour, his whole body tilting closer to you. There is a familiar twitch to his fingers, a heavy tension rolling under his skin, squaring his shoulders — his whole body curling to wrap around you. “Luv, look at me. Come o’, sweet’eart.”

But no. No, you can’t do this today. Not right now.

Too much kindness and you will crack open like faulty glass with cracks all over it, everything pouring out of you.

“I said — don’t”, you snap, hanging your coat, your eyes stinging, the heavy hover of your brows (same one you subconsciously mimicked off Simon’s).

Simon opens his mouth to say something but you send him a glare so scalding he does a rare thing.

He closes it back and steps aside, letting you through. He doesn’t say anything anymore but there is a heavy weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades. It follows you when you pad into the bedroom to get your pyjamas and then into the bathroom.

Bathtub fills with hot water slowly but it gives you time to think. Shame finally flooding your system, your mind catching up to pleasures your body partook in and Jesus fucking Christ, what were you thinking?

Letting a stranger just touch you like that? Letting someone who’s not Simon be this close to you, this intimate with you, this soft with you.

Letting someone see you as this vulnerable wreck of a social butterfly — spreading your wings one moment and sobbing the next one. Fucking hell, the Guy must be thinking you a right nutcase right now.

There is embarrassment and strange kind of guilt curdling in your throat, your fingers twitching to finally wash the night away, to slide under the water surface and lie in the bathtub until you feel like a person again. Until you don’t feel this ashamed about something not shameful at all.

A quick glance in the mirror does absolutely nothing to soothe the restless creature in your chest because holy fuck. That’s why Simon was staring.

You look like a bloody mess!

Your neck is littered with hickeys all the way down to your cleavage, purplish marks covering your skin. It does look like someone tried to either devour you or kill you. Maybe both.

Fucking hell. Fucking fucking hell.

You wash for what feels like forever, angrily scratching off the make up, too rough and too quick, your eyes stinging, your skin too tight and too hot, your chest gurgling with wet shuddering breaths.

You don’t feel better. If anything you feel worse.

There’s a small dread-filled expectation that Simon is standing his guard right outside the bathroom door, that you will need to speak to him in a sorry state you are in.

But he isn’t there.

Soap is.

Not even right behind the door — he is in the living room, right across from you, his head snapping up when you finally emerge.

He’s wearing Simon’s T-shirt and you don’t want to let it get to you but it’s been a long night and fuck, do you feel like crying right now.

But it’s a different thing that gets you.

Johnny is standing with a handful of blankets, right next to couch that has been properly made to sleep on it, pillows and stuffed toy laying on there.

There’s a steaming mug on the coffee table. There’s a chocolate bar and a plate of pills. If you had to guess, probably painkillers.

It makes your chest clench and if this bloody Scotsman says a single fucking thing you will throw something in his head.

You don’t need his pity. You don’t want his kindness.

But Johnny just steps aside letting you plop yourself on the couch and drapes a blanket over your shoulders. Johnny passes you the mug and sits next to you.

For some reason you let him.

For some reason you press your cheek into his shoulder and cry — ugly fat tears streaming down your face, his hand coming up to slowly carefully rub your hand. It’s strange.

It’s not like Simon’s engulfing embrace, it’s not the way guy from the pub hummed his sweet nothings. But it’s good. It’s comforting. It doesn’t make you feel like a total wreck.

Johnny sits with you, letting you cry it out, not making a sound. Like he knows that you need this moment for yourself. Like he knows that this is not about him. This is about you.

You sit like that long enough for your eyelids to start dropping lower involuntarily, your body getting heavier — tired from shame and aching, wrung with the events of the day.

That’s when Soap finally starts talking, calloused fingers rubbing small circles on your forearm.

“I’m sorry.”, he murmurs quietly before finally looking at you, face a little softer, eyes a little warmer. Like he gets it finally. “I didnae ken you had plans with Simon. For Christmas. I wouldnae asked him if he said something”

You give him a silent shrug of your shoulders which feels more of a twitch rather than conscious expression of your “it is what it is”.

You close your eyes, tucking your legs under the covers and letting Soap wrap you in a blankets.

His eyes linger on your neck for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Was everything…consensual?”, there is a worried heavy crease between his brows and it’s not funny but you still smile at him earning yourself an eye roll.

“Don’t laugh at me, lassie, I’m serious. Simon is driving himself up the foockin wall.”, he shakes his head and fond exasperation in his face makes something in your chest clench painfully. God it would have been better if he was mean to you.

“I’m out here because I reckoned you woulnae mind some company.”, he murmurs, cocooning you in your blanket like you are some kind of helpless creature and you have to smack his palm away to stop him from wrapping you any tighter.

“ ‘m fine. I’ll talk to Simon tomorrow”, you breath out, curling around the stuffed toy, too tired to smack Soap’s hand away when he strokes your head, warmth of his palm soothing dull throbbing pain under your skin.

This is nice. You shouldn’t get used to it.

“I’m sorry too”, you finally say, words slurring out, your eyelids getting heavier when you look up at Johnny and you aren’t sure what it is there in his face but he looks at you like he gets it. Like it’s okay to be a wreck. “I…yeah, it was consensual. Just- I’m not like that usually”, you don’t know why you try to justify yourself to him. You owe him no explanation.

But his eyes still soften when he hums, nodding, his thumb carefully massaging your temple.

“Ah ken. It’s okay. Sometimes we do things for ourselves. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. Ahm just glad ye’r safe”, he chews on his lip before adding, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “And responsible. Even got yerself home in one piece. Ah was right bloody mess in similar circumstances, completely off my foockin’ trolley”

The notion does in fact make you feel a little less like shit and you chuckle, closing your eyes, slipping into dark welcoming nothing.

“Can’t imagine someone not wanting you. You are a beauty”, is the last thing that stumbles out of your mouth, before slumber swallows you.

Soap sits there for some time, palm still covering the side of your hand, eyes soft when you nuzzle into the pillow. You are the one to say that, hen.

He uncurls himself off the couch, finally pads back in the bedroom and crawls in bed — Simon’s hands coming up to pull him close immediately.

“Yer a bastard”, Soap murmurs, nose nuzzling in Ghost’s neck, eyes closing as he melts into warm embrace.

He doesn’t like the clench in his chest, he doesn’t like feeling out of place, he doesn’t like taking someone else’s place.

He doesn’t like making someone feel the way he was feeling. Not when he knows the desire to fill the emptiness inside with whatever works best.

“I know”, Simon’s voice is a low rumble, hands wrapping tighter around Soap’s body, keeping him closer. “Feelin’ like one too, sergeant”

“Good”, Soap hums and curls into Simon further. The bed under him smelling like you, the bed bearing your every trace, the bed a live reminder that somewhere along the way things got more complicated that they should have.

It’s only in the morning that Simon crawls out of the bed, hands wrapping Johnny tighter in the blanket — it’s cold in winter and the last thing he needs is for his sergeant to catch cold. He will probably need to crank up the heat higher, it’s freezing outside the warmth of covers.

It’s still early enough for all of you to sleep but you are very much awake when Simon pads out, awkwardly stilling in the doorway when his eyes meet yours. Look who’s now looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Mornin’.”, he rasps out, voice rough after sleep, hair a mess that curls at the ends. Like he has been tossing and turning all night.

You two haven’t talked save for the yesterday’s fight which had less than ideal results.

God, he hates fighting with you. Hates the tension, hates feeling out of place, hates not being able to melt into you like usually.

“Can I?”, he nods to the couch you are still plastered over and moves your legs out of the way when you give him a slow nod, your blanket-covered ankles now in his lap.

Sitting like that, on the edge of a bloody couch Simon looks like a sleep paralysis demon (a really attractive one, but you are sure you are biased).

The same way he’d sit on the edge of your bed after dumb teenage fights, after breaking your mug, after announcing he has enlisted — his palms massaging your feet absentmindedly.

Just to feel that you are still here.

Tangible, warm, real. His.

“How’d ya feel?”, there is no more fight in him, no more tomb-plate pressure on your shoulders to cave in and speak to him. No more restless energy — all of it drained out yesterday, was bitten out on his nails, splintering one in the process.

When you cut him off, sounding like you weren’t just mad at him. Like you were in pain. Like you were hurting.

Like he hurt you.

“It wasn’t fair”, he says, brown eyes meeting yours, thumb rubbing the roundness of your malleolus.

Simon doesn’t know how to just say that he’s sorry. That he shouldn’t have snapped like that. That he was wrong and he hurt you and he felt like absolute failure yesterday when you stumbled home.

Pretty as sin, glitter on your cheeks, somebody’s marks all over your neck.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he almost lost it then and there, that he has never felt this mad, that he wanted to get out of the house and hunt down whoever dared to leave hickeys on you.

His fault, should have never let you out of sight, should have never let you leave upset, should have called and told you everything proper, should have been better. His fault, his fuck-up, his mistake.

And then you were misty-eyed and upset beyond anything he ever saw and his heart sank in his stomach, squeezing out white hot “minemineminemine”.

Because he won’t just hunt down if whoever kissed you all over took advantage of you. He’d kill them. He’d tear them limb from limb, he’d choke the life out of them.

Simon doesn’t know how to admit how scared he was that he pushed you away and you might have needed him and he wasn’t there.

Simon doesn’t know how to describe the sheer relief he felt, straining his ears to eavesdrop on your conversation with Johnny.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he was wrong.

So he says the closest thing he can muster.

“You were right. To be upset with me”, he murmurs quietly, fingers curling around your ankles, palms warming you up. “I should’a waned you proper way. Should’a asked instead if Soap can come to celebrate with us”, he sighs, tilting his head from side to side — bones cracking and granting temporary relief from throbbing in his nape.

You sigh as well, the feel of his fingers on your legs so familiar it’s almost painful. The touch so tender you feel like snatching your legs back.

But god knows you are a weak weak woman.

You don’t. You let him touch you more, bolt of molten heat shooting up the underside of your knee when his knuckle presses on the centre of the sole of your foot.

“John is pretty”, you say suddenly, blurting it out to fill the silence. Because you know that Simon isn’t good with saying he’s sorry. And as much as you appreciate this sad attempt at apology, after everything that happened you aren’t entirely sure whether he’s sorry or just feeling guilty.

“He is very pretty.”, Simon nods stone-faced, softly squeezing your legs one last time before he moves you aside to work his way beside you. “You are very pretty too. Both of you are bloody beauties.”, he hums and you feel his faint grin pressing into your shoulder when he kisses it. “ ‘m surrounded by real dolls ‘round here.”

“You’re laughing at me”, you roll your eyes, smacking his hand when he repositions you to tuck under his side. Closer. So he can drape an arm over your stomach, pressing your back in his chest. “And don’t weasel your way on my couch, you big brute.”

“I’m laughing with ya, sweet’eart”, Simon murmurs finally stretching out behind you, grunting in satisfaction when your body slots into his like a well-oiled piece of puzzle. “Never at ya.”

Simon is a heavy warm presence, scarred fingers on your skin, callouses scraping ever so slightly.

Simon is a four-finger grip, stump of absent trigger finger a living reminder that he always comes back. No matter the cost.

He hums something in your hair, rocking you both in his embrace, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. Simon is warmth and safety, heavy silences and heavier gazes. Simon is everything.

And right now this big everything is purposefully lulling you back to sleep, realisation dawning on you only when he hums again — low vibration in his chest melting you into nothing.

“ ‘m not sleepy”, is a weak protest at best because he can feel with his whole body the way you melt when he tuts and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, you are, luv”, it’s not even a question, his hands wrapped around you securely, holding close to his chest. Close to him.

Sometimes Simon thinks that it would be nice to have six hands. Or at least four. Would’ve be enough to hold this tightly both you and Soap and never let go.

But he only has two hands and two of you and a challenge of getting you both safe and warm.

Soap pads out of the bedroom half an hour later, nothing on him but Simon’s T-shirt and boxers, one of your blankets draped over his shoulders when he sits down across from the couch.

Johnny has a calculating, sharp look in his eyes, has the heavy appraisal in his gaze, his voice low enough not to wake you up.

“What am I to you, sir?”, is a weird question maybe, considering he sleeps in Simon’s bed and wears Simon’s clothes and gets Simon’s kisses. But so do you. And he saw you yesterday when Simon decided he’s going to add someone to the equation you didn’t know you were even part of.

“Mine.”, Simon is calm, with you tucked under his side and his hand draped over you to keep you there and you close. There’s a heavy weight to his words, a heat that sends a shiver through Soap’s body because baby, it’s cold outside and god, does he want in.

Does he want to be needed and loved and cared for. Does he want the same attention you are getting, does he want the same focus you inwoke in Simon.

“Then what is she to you, L.T.?”, the question is carefully worded because Johnny needs to know for sure. Because he needs to know whether to pack his bags or stay by the door.

“Also mine.”, Simon hums, pad of his thumb grazing someone’s bite on your neck. His eyes are so dark Johnny feels heat climb up his face. Like he’s witnessing something he isn’t supposed to. “You both are mine. Not gonna change”

So it’s a final decision.

Johnny wonders how long ago lieutenant decided it. How long ago he saw Soap and decided to bring him home to the only other person he’s still considering family.

How long ago he looked at his bird and decided to introduce her to the only other person that makes him feel alive. That makes him feel warm. That makes him feel home.

Soap hums and crouches down in front of the couch, testing the waters but Ghost lets him, moving a little bit to uncurl himself from covering you. Letting Johnny get close. Trusting Johnny not to wake you up. Trusting Johnny with you.

Ghost is letting Johnny in.

Soap stays silent for a few very long moment, before nodding more to himself that to anyone else and presses a kiss to Simon’s lips. He nips hard enough to draw blood, licking it off before he stands up.

“Ahm gonna put the kettle on”, he rolls his shoulders and softly swipes away the remains of glitter you didn’t wash off yesterday from your cheek. Pretty girl, you have no idea what a man is lying beside you.

You have no idea that he’s never letting go.

You have no idea there are two of them now.

Ghost hums, satisfaction rolling off him in waves, satisfaction etched in him, satisfaction dripping out of every line of his face.

Maybe he won’t need four hands. Maybe Johnny can lend him his.

Maybe with time you will lend yours as well.

Taglist: @thestoriesiread @skeletonsucker @sirbonesly @blackhawkfanatic @rpgsandstuff @danielle143 @parasite--girl @un-aesthetic @vmaxis

[shanefuckingscott]

Sevika Headcanons 🦾

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

What I think Sevika would be like generally. a little bit of switch Sevika. 🦾

SFW:

She can cook well. She just doesn't cook OFTEN. I think that's something people don't get, but I think she's a good cook.

If you can't cook, she'll happily cook for the both of you.

If you can't, she'll probably most definitely make fun of you for not knowing how to use a knife, but she'll be happy to cook for you.

As long as you wash the dishes.

She does not have a type at all. Physical appearance? None. All she wants is someone competent, and someone that is okay with her not being home as much. But she does make it up to you.

If you have long hair, she'll braid it, and even help you oil your scalp once in awhile, like her mother taught her to.

If you have short and buzzed hair, she likes to run her hand through the freshly buzzed hair, and also like to help you oil your scalp.

Amazing with henna. You once bought her some henna, and she teared up a little bit, since it's been a long time since she's ever done henna on herself, ever since her mom died.

She decorates you with henna once in awhile, during her free time, and she likes to teach you about her culture that her mom has passed down onto her, and you help her heal her inner child by doing that.

You like to get her in touch of her culture, and she likes you even more because of that. In Zaun, there's not much of a place for sentimentality, but this, her culture, her mother is a part of her, and you like to remind her that with what happens everyday, she's still herself. That she's not just a woman fighting for the freedom of Zaun, that she's also herself.

She tends to forget that, after all.

TOUCH STARVED AS HELL.

Won't let just anyone touch her, only you, though.

She's actually really clingy. I mean, REALLY clingy. You'd be surprised. Of course, she still has a reputation to maintain, but even so, she doesn't shy away from showing you love outside the comfort of your own home.

Her love languages are definitely Acts of Service, Physical Touch, and Gift Giving.

She likes to do small things for you, like make you a cup of coffee in the morning. Charge your phone, when you're asleep. Give you a massage when you had a particularly bad day.

I lied. It's not small things, she does EVERYTHING for you. Opening doors wherever you go. Helping you change out of your clothes when you're drunk. Carrying you wherever, when your feet feel tired. Anything, you name it.

For gift giving, she likes getting you stuff that remind her of you. Like, a particular flower, or trinket, that she thinks you'll love, she'll find a way to get it. If she can't however, she'll just tell you about it. "I saw a butterfly. Reminded me of you" Anything.

Sometimes, when she goes away for long periods of time, you better expect 2 things. 1. she'll come home with alot of bruises and cuts. 2. She brought food, or a little trinket.

When Sevika is out for a work trip, she'll call you the whole way there, until she has to get off the trainz and actually do business.

Hates, hates, hates when you're the one going out, and it's her rest day. She's not stopping you from having your own life, she's just a baby that wants your undivided love and attention. And who are you to deny her of such?

Not often jealous, but extremely possessive.

I lied, she is a bit jealous, but not because she doesn't trust you. She doesn't trust other people.

One time you were out at night and a guy catcalled you. Ooh, boy, let's just say he was beyond saving at that point.

She's EXTREMELY loyal. That actually goes without saying, but just wanted to put that out there.

And you're as loyal to her as she is to you. That's what she admires so much about you, not just the love, but the loyalty, and how she knows that you're always on her side, and you'll choose her no matter what.

She loves, loves, loves it when you cut her hair. You're the only person besides a barber that can touch her hair.

She's really careful of not hitting, or crushing you with her robotic hand, and at first, she doesn't even touch you with it. But when you show her it's okay, and you're not scared of her, she loosens up a bit, and lets you hold it. With caution.

She likes it when you caress her face, and absolutely loves it when you kiss her knuckles. Even on her robotic hand.

She giggles like a little girl, when you two are alone. It's kind of cute to see her that way. That's her way of showing her vulnerability.

She loves drama. There's alot of perks of being the right hand woman. She gets to hear everything going on in Zaun. Although she is a quiet woman, she'll tell you everything that happened throughout the day, any drama that she comes across, and you guys laugh together about it. "Did you know (name) and (name) just got divorced?! Turns out (name) was a cheating prick!" She gossips to you. you of course match her energy, and be as shocked as her, "I fucking knew it!"

That was your bonding time with her. Yup, gossiping.

She sleeps with her on your chest, and you cuddle her head, and wrap your legs around her.

Her idea of a date is having you on top of her on the couch, as you both binge eat, and watch some horror together.

She is a bit of a scardey cat, when it comes to horror, so often times, her grip tightens on you, and she'll hide her face in your chest. You pause the movie, and comfort her, and change it to comedy, or something.

NSFW:

She's a bit of a switch.

She gets really turned on, when you comfort her in your chest though. Sometimes you think she just does it for the attention, but you don't seem to mind.

"You want me to change it, baby? Yeah?" You say, as you run your fingers through her hair. She nods. "mhm"

she says, and you change the channel immedietly. She flips the two of you, and now she's on top of you. You're now watching a dumb sitcom, and she's peppering your face with kisses.

You giggle at her antics, but don't try to stop her. "Oh, my baby, were you scared?" you coo at her, your legs high above the air, and you caress her face.

"Mhm, so scared." She says to you. She takes your sweater off, admiring the view. She's careful not to crush you with her bionic arm, as she goes down, and licks you nipples, and sucks them, and plays with the other tit with her other hand.

She likes making you moan, the louder the better. When you try to put a pillow over your head, or you try to use your hand to cover your mouth, she's grabbing it away from your mouth, to let you moan freely, and loudly.

"mhm, s-sev! More!" She likes it when you're needy, fucking loves it when you beg. "S-sevi, please!"

She can't say no to you that long, so she gives in almost immedietly, right after she teases the fuck out of you.

She takes your pants off, and sniffs your panties. (Yes, we got ourselves a panty sniffer, but it's okay, it's her, and we love her.)

"Y-you're such a perv!" and with that, she throws your panties somewhere on the floor, and she spreads your legs apart. You moan. She takes a good look at your wet cunt.

She takes a finger, and runs it along your silky folds, "mhmm, se-vika! s-stop teasing!" She smirks at you, and she finally goes down, not giving you a second to process that she's taking a stripe of your cunt. "A-ah, hmm, sev-ika, yo-u fe-el so g-good"

you can barely speak properly.

she eats your pussy like its her last meal on earth, she just hits all the right spots, and you pull her hair a little harder, and moaning louder.

and just like that, you were about to cum. like magic. Her tongue should be kept in bars, for how good it feels, it's unfair.

"s-sevika, I'm cl-ose!" You moan out, your take your hand, and fondle your own tits, while you moan her name "se-sevika!!"

"Cum for me, baby, I want you to come in my mouth" she tells you. It's like a magic word at this point when she tells you to cum for her, you actually do.

"o-oh yes! hmm, fuck!" You throw your head back, your grip on her hair tightening, and you push her deeper, and deeper into your pussy.

You were practically drowning her. But you know this is what she wants. This is what she loves.

After awhile, when you calm down, you pull her up, and lean in for a deep kiss. You can actually taste yourself a bit in her mouth.

When you finally gain the energy, you smirk at her, "Now it's your turn baby~" You say to her, pushing her on to the couch, and make her lay there. You position yourself between her thighs, and you pull per pants off.

You take a whiff of her sex, and she smells absolutely amazing. You take your time with her, your tongue slow, sensual, and you taste every part of her. When she moves around alot, that's when you decide to take your hand, and wrap it around her legs, and hips, to keep her from pushing. She's pulling back, little by little as she gets closer and closer.

You pull her back, practically wrestling her, "You're not going anywhere, Sevi" You say firmly, and get back to what you're eating. She huffs, and whimpers, and she grips your hair tightly, her body stiffening up, and you can feel her grind herself on your tongue, you let her dance for a bit, until she's almost close. You put 2 fingers in her pussy, and pump it fast and hard, in contrast to the slow, and sensual licking of her clit.

She's grinding more and more now, her grip ever so slightly getting harder, and harder. "F-fuck, princess, you're s-so fuck-ing good, mhm, I'm almost there!" She sobs, you smile while eating her out, and maintain eye contact with her, you pull back and slowly finger her, just teasing her a little bit. She whines even more. "Hmm, baby, I want you to look at me when I make you cum. Got that?" She looks at you flustered, and she nods.

You smirk, and you put your mouth back on her, and your fingers pump faster and faster, and there she is trying her best not to throw her head back.

"c'm fr m, bby" You say while you suck and lick her clit.

And with that, her body convulses, her head thrown back, her eyes rolling in the back of her head, and she grinds on your face more, and more. You close your eyes, enjoying the tastes of her juices coming out, your fingers still fast, and your face getting soaked from her squirting cunt.

You pull back, and take your fingers out of her. You lick her clean, not missing a spot, and you make her suck on your fingers, as she pants, she opens her mouth, and suck it clean.

You get up, and get a towel for her, she's still experiencing the aftermath of her orgasm. "Enjoy yourself, baby?" You ask her teasingly with a smile on your face.

She rolls her eyes, and it honestly looks like she's making a sex face at you right now. You chuckle, and cuddle up to her naked, and she giggles at you.

"I love you so fucking much, Sevi." You look up at her, cupping her cheeks with your hand, and you went up to kiss the top of her head.

She's still catching her breath, bit alot calmer now, and she smiles at you. "and I love you, princess. Janna, that mouth of yours, huh?"

You both giggle for the night, and fell asleep just like that.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Okay, so is it obvious I like writing switch Sevika, or not?

This was actually a bit of an emotional roller-coaster to write, but I kind of like it.

[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[littlemissshifter]

Letting go and what it actually is.

Everyone takes letting go too far. It is a simple thing. It does not require any effort. The purpose of letting go is not to make you forget about everything that you want or acting like you have it already even when you don't believe it.

It is a reminder. It is a reminder of your true self. That you will experience your desires because that's how reality works. That you can do whatever you want and not worry because reality passes through you and you experience it with what you choose. It's supposed to be a easy. Because it is easy. There is nothing you need to do to let go except the thing that you want to do.

Here's what it's not:

You're not supposed to forget about your desire.

You're not supposed to stop scripting for your DR (or anything dr related).

You're not supposed to stop and 'move on' from your desire.

You're not supposed to force the flow of your thoughts towards already having it.

You're not supposed to distract yourself whenever the thought of your desire arises.

You're not supposed to do a million methods and breathe thinking that 'I let it go now' only to spiral into 'no I didn't' again.

Here's what it is:

Whatever you want it to be.

Doing whatever the fuck you want to do and not judging yourself for it (Includes having doubts, spiralling, feeling whatever you want and any 'negative' thing you can think of).

That's it. That's what letting go actually is. It's just trusting yourself and if you think that it's not that then you don't know enough about how our realities work. How we work. This is why I keep on telling y'all to educate yourself properly regarding shifting and everything that it is. This is literally it. Your doubts, feelings and everything physical is unrelated to shifting. You will shift regardless.

"How do I trust myself then?" You ask me looking so stupid because how the fuck am I supposed to know that I'm not you. You know yourself best. Bloggers cannot help with everything, I'm just sitting behind a screen showing you the map, you have to walk it yourself. Only YOU can change yourself and only YOU know yourself enough to change.

If you want to think about your desire 24/7 do it. If you want to daydreaming thinking about your dr do it. Want to script for 10 hours? Go get some coffee. Want to rant how annoying everyone in your cr is while changing your assumptions about them? Go off slay or whatever. Spiraled again? Doesn't matter keep doing that until you stop naturally. Let yourself breathe and exist and feel.

[k-hippie]

k-707 2025 BOLD UPDATE INSTRUCTIONS

Hello everyone :)

The new k-707 is going to be released in the coming days :D but as it is a kind of new experience, we have some kinda instructions in order to get everything working fine.

Step right up, folks, for the grand unveiling of our biggest project yet! The K-707 isn’t just a mod—it’s a green revolution. Taking on almost every flower, patch of grass, bush, and tree makes this even more massive than the K-505. And trust us, our brains are already feeling the strain! :D

But before instructions, let me tell you the k-707 story ;)

We really hope you'll enjoy it. We worked hard on it with 5 rules :

Replace EVERY tree of the game

NO overrides with crazy high polygons amount

Follow as much as possible the Maxis directions ( trees style )

Decrease amount of polygons where it is possible

No trees defying gravity and laws of physics

It took long for few reasons ...

At first, we always knew the first version was a vast experiment. When ea made its direct x11 update, it was time to make a bold update ... but we didn't want simply remove the non-strictly-dds-x2 images and replace them ... we wanted more. We always wanted more, even we are not kinda ea gurus :D ( hey EA ! don't you want hire some true creators with a long term vision of your game ? ) <- poll : would you like k-hippie as maxis creators or not ? :D

Joke apart, it was difficult. Almost 1 year long, we searched and searched solutions to get rid of all problems we met when replacing foliage on a debug tree, or modifying anything on a debug tree ( for info : we are not blender gurus nor sims 4 core users )

All we knew was few lines :

When cloning a tree, you cannot lose the any of the vert color data. I suspect whatever tool(s) you are using to do the cloning is losing this data, since this setup is somewhat unique to trees.

The vertex color layout for trees is as follows. Green and Blue are ignored for channels 1…4 : Color 0 RGB Surface color tint Color 1 R Rustle direction X Color 2 R Rustle direction Y Color 3 R Rustle direction Z Color 4 R Rustle phase ( game generates two wind scales that change over time, this term interpolates between the two )

The pipeline keeps the rustle information in a vertex color format for what the game engine will load, which means it’s in the range 0 and 1. The shader remaps this into a 0.5 to -0.5 range before scaling it and applying the offset to the leaves. Note that these directions are clamped but not normalized ( they’re allowed to be different lengths ) The WindMagnitude material parameter acts as a scaling factor.

So, we started with this information, begging in vain for some help, both inside the Sims community and outside ... but nobody helped us. And frankly, it interested no-one except us and our beloved followers :)

We found multitude of tutorials ( funny how many they are as soon as it is clothes related ) but nothing related to our specific target. We paused our research many times, made direct x11 updates for our other k-mods and so on. Until ... zaceitorius in July 13rd 2024

Who is zaceitorius ? We do not know. A simple member of sims4studio with 6 posts who gave us a simple bright clue which seems obvious after all, but yet very very precious indeed !

And here we are today. 300 trees and numerous plants later ... <- another reason why it took a long time :D

We made a lot of vertex experiments, we lost data colors, remade again and again some other experiments and well, we are still experiment, remake small details which seem important to us and so on ... And for now, it works :D And now you are warned : the k-707 is far from perfect.

And now, the instructions :)

The k-707 covers both trees & plants, both debug and lot trees & plants

What's new ? No more than usual. We tracked all the non-strictly-dds-x2 images, reshaped some trees ( such as the multitude of oaks ), added some flowers ( where we removed them in 2021 ) but kept many foliage we already did. We tried to simplify many details but added some others and replaced some plants.

How many stuff it represents ? We do not know. Many indeed. We stopped the count :D

Because of its size ( and our love for our sanity ), THE RELEASE WILL ROLL OUT IN PARTS ( not slowly but piece by piece ). If we waited until it was all perfect, you’d be seeing it around ( maybe ) September 2025 ... Let’s not tempt fate—or burnout! :D

The K-707 is neatly organized for your convenience :

Each DLC gets 2 folders : one for plants, one for trees.

The base game gets 4 folders ( a bit different since most of the greenery is drawn from there ) divided into lots and debug folders.

Expansions which have very few greenies ( City, Get to Work, University ) get the same folder named : k-hippie-k707-multi-greeny-2025

IMPORTANT :

Leave them in each of their folders ( or create your owns based on a similar methodology )

If you merge files : we can’t help troubleshoot if it doesn’t work anymore, so be smart ;)

You’re free to do as you like, but we strongly recommend keeping this tidy folder setup. If you need to troubleshoot down the line, it’ll save you a major headache.

And for the mavericks out there who love merging files—go for it, but know this : we won’t be able to help if things go haywire.

Now, we could wax poetic about how stunning the K-707 is, how every leaf, petal, and blade of grass is crisper, richer, and beautifully integrated into your worlds—but hey, we'll do it later, inside the release post :D

We could do more, more realistic trees and so on but we do not want integrate crazy high poly models. We do not want an unplayable game isn't it ? ;)

The k-707 is not yet finished. We got some more work to do on it, shape the last details, and some re-checks.

But here is what is new compare to the previous version : we kinda cracked ( a bit only ) the code. Trees swinging in the wind like it’s a dancing contest ? No more. Trees defying gravity and laws of physics by groveling into the ground ? No more. Just remember we do not have the hands upon the worlds construction, so, when trees are not into the ground, well, call your reseller aka EA itself ...

[fanzou]

Hi!! could you write about sanji dating someone whose old partner only cared about their own happiness (sexually and non sexually) and she starts believing thats how a relationship is supposed to work. sanji shows her it’s not supposed to be like that

Spoil Me!

✗ Pairing: Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Sanji shows you how to be selfish for a change.

✗ Total WC: 4.4K

✗ CW: Angst, Reader being in a manipulative relationship before Sanji, SMUT, Sanji calls reader lots of pet names, Reader cries in good and bad ways (let me know if I missed any), fluff, Nami smacks your butt (my personal favorite part)

✗ A/N: I always see this prompt with other writers and got super anxious just cuz it could get angsty, but I feel that I did somewhat of a good job with this. I’m happy with it! So… enjoy, and thank you so much for this request!

It’s been 2 months since you and Sanji had established yourselves romantically.

Ever the romantic, Sanji had always done things different with you. Everything was equal, everything was amazing. Everything felt right in his mind. You’d help him with the dishes, you’d help do his laundry, hell—sometimes he’d let you help prepare his favorite dishes with him to serve to the crew. Of course, there had been a select few things that were off limits, like paying for the bill, which he always had you covered, it was but a friendly gesture. You’d return the favor the next time you guys went out, even if he almost fought the waiter about it. (You couldn’t help yourself!)

When it was absolutely pouring and Sanji saw you hadn’t brought a coat in preparation, there was no hesitation in giving his up for you, but you insisted that you and him could both get underneath the coat like an umbrella, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again right then.

Even though he always liked the idea of being the one to take care of his partner, this was something different, something new. He’d grown to appreciate it—the equal friendship you’d shared. And when he realized his new and profound love for you, he felt unstoppable. Suddenly he wanted everything to do with you, and less to do with anything else. It was like he was attached to your hip. Wherever you went he wasn’t so far behind.

So it was a surprise to no one when you both finally decided to get together. He was ecstatic, the smile on his face couldn’t be wiped away for days.

And then it came crashing down.

exhibit A.

You’ve done this 3 nights in a row.

“My heart, you don’t have to worry about the dishes tonight, okay? I’ve already washed and dried them all, just get some rest.” You kiss his cheek and walk away, presumably to your room.

When the door closes, he finally settles back into reality, what he experienced could only be described as shock. He thought it was just a coincidence the first two nights. Maybe you just wanted to go to sleep a little earlier, but Sanji can’t help but feel a pang in his heart. Though it might seem like a boring little chore to an outsider, there was something that filled his heart about being able to do the dishes with you. It was so much more intimate. There was something about being side by side with you, talking and chatting about how your day went, asking you about the crew, if you did anything special that day. It was the little things for him, and he couldn’t relish in his favorite part of the day because of whatever reason you wanted to finish the dishes as early as possible.

You laughed into his shoulder while he told you something funny he encountered that day, “Sanji, that’s crazy!” Your laugh was so bright. Oh, how he loved to hear your sweet laugh, and this was one of those moments he could relish in it with no disruption.

Another time, you’d tease and get some soap on his cheek and he’d rebuttal by getting you a little wet. He giggled at your gasp and put down the wet dishes for a second and put his wet hands around your hip. You didn’t mind, never. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss while his hands soaked your shirt and pants. It was absolute heaven to him, and he didn’t want it any other way.

Surely he hadn’t done something wrong, that had to be impossible. Given your body language, and the way you leaned into him, everything was fine on his part.

He turns around and twists the door knob to the kitchen to follow you to your room, and makes a quick turn to your door.

He opens it and there you are, already dressed in your night gown, ready to sleep. You look exhausted, he looks at you in what you can almost make out to be a pitiful expression. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He walks towards you carefully and lifts your hand into his, and contrary to your tired expression, he can tell you try your utmost to keep an enthusiastic attitude, “Of course! There’s nothing to worry about. You should go to bed Sanj’.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want you to be tired.”

A silence falls, until you continue, “Something bothering you? Do you want me to come to bed with you? So you can sleep?”

Even though you meant well, and to anyone else it would seem thoughtful— the words you had uttered were far from reassuring to him.

exhibit B.

It was a special day, a very special one. Something that you almost didn’t want to celebrate, for whatever reason, but with the way it made Sanji so happy to be able to participate in, you couldn’t help but let him have it.

“Happy Birthday!” The crew says in unison. They just got done singing the most off beat and terrible rendition of what they thought was the happy birthday song, and you loved it. the three layer cake was decorated in the most gorgeous pink you had ever seen. Complimented by pink pearls on the sides with what you can only assume to be the most attentive detail, prepared by your one and only. It was thoughtful, almost so thoughtful that there was a guilt forming in your stomach. Nami picks some frosting off the top and swipes it onto your nose, to which you cutely stare at the middle of your face. She licks the residue off her fingers and in satisfaction, she yells to the cook, “Wow Sanji, this is amazing!” His smile softens when he hears her words. “I’m almost jealous. Where was all this for my birthday?”

“Now hurry up and cut the birthday girl a slice before I eat this entire thing!” Luffy exclaims, and everyone is quick to start arguing with him. “Don’t you dare, you idiot!” Nami yells.

You can only laugh, “My slice? That belongs to Sanji!”

The commotion comes to a silence and everyone looks at you, most of them with confused expressions or blank one’s. Sanji doesn’t understand what you meant, and neither did the others so you continue, “It’s important that he gets the first slice, I almost feel bad that I made you prepare such an amazing cake, I couldn’t possibly be the first one to eat it.”

There was an awkward silence, but he decided to break it. “Darling… it’s your cake. I made it especially for you.” You thought about it for a moment, long and hard, before a memory came back to you:

Y’know I bought this cake for you, so it’s only fair that I get the first piece. A bit selfish of you to try to hog it all up, sweetheart. A woman should always serve her man first, ever heard of that? The voice rings through your ears and you shudder.

You scratch your neck and look off to the side, “I was always taught that it was bad manners for me to take the first slice, please Sanji, would you do me the honors?” You look a little nervous to even be saying that. The swordsman answers before he or anyone else can, “Bad manners? Never heard that one before.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. It would be completely unlike Sanji to ever participate in such a tradition, it would be no exaggeration to say that it made him mildly uncomfortable. But because of the way you look at him with pleading eyes, albeit hesitantly—he cuts himself the first piece, and then the rest for everyone else.

“Alright!” Luffy licks his lips. “Let me know if anyone doesn’t finish theirs!”

“I hope you enjoy it, my love.” You say to him with your hand cupping his face. His eyes widen for a split second.

He doesn’t miss the sad look in your eyes.

exhibit C.

This was something you couldn’t do very often with being on the waters almost all of the time, and when you were on ground there was always a quick and rising conflict that had to be dealt with, so it was difficult for you and your lover to get some alone time.

And the restaurant was absolutely fabulous, violin music playing in the back, the red and orange lights that illuminated the environment were calm and not overbearing, they were dimmed just right to fit the seductive atmosphere that you and Sanji both basked in. The food was amazing as well, something he couldn’t say about many restaurants. He wasn’t crazy about this island, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some great food here.

“You look beautiful, dear. This dress is absolutely perfect on you.” Sanji says simply, but it dusts a blush on your face, one that he wishes he could see, but the ambient light does good to mask it, much to his disappointment. He liked leaving you flustered. “You look handsome, but you know that.”

“I like to hear it from you. ‘Makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.” He purrs. You don’t miss the way his feet glide against yours, and the hungry look he gives you.

Like he almost wants to take you then and there. And suddenly the mood changes—from romantic to sexual. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that you want to get familiar with, but this is a restaurant, and he had enough food. “I think we should get out of here, my love.” Not taking his gaze from yours, “I’m hungry for something else.”

“I paid the bill already, baby, so we can bounce whenever you want.” You say with an eagerness in your tone, trying to match his energy.

Sanji looks nothing like he did a second ago, he’s confused and almost surprised, sad and angry all at the same time. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. He didn’t want you to pay, that’s far from what he wanted you to do. He wanted to pay the bill, and then take you to the nearest hotel and make you feel special. “What do you mean you paid?” His tone is stern now.

“Sanj’, I was taught that it was bad manners to have a man— y’know… pay… ‘cause they do all the work. Y’know? And…” you continue, but Sanji cancels your voice out for a second. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, you don’t want to look at him anymore, in fear of what he would say to you. You thought you had done the right thing but it probably wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied.

It’s all the same.

Honestly, he didn’t care about whatever bullshit manners anyone’s ever taught you. It’s something that he didn’t approve of. Sanji digs his hand in his hair, he’s frustrated. He loves you, he really does. But this is suuuuch a turn off. As a friend he could take you paying the bill after his countless times doing so, despite his absolute reluctance in letting you do it. It was much more different now that you were finally together. He didn’t want to be upset with you, perhaps you misunderstood, that was all. Your anxiety grew as Sanji stayed quiet, you could tell he was frustrated and you didn’t understand why. No worries, it’s nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you feel good tonight if you’ll let me?” You say with hopeful eyes, and his gaze finally meets yours, but you quickly realize that it’s not enough to satisfy his needs, he just looks at you with a pitiful expression like he had the other few instances you suggested something like this. “My love… if you’ll let me be honest. I don’t really care about whatever dumb manners you had to learn growing up or whoever ingrained those dumbass ideologies into your pretty little head.” He takes your hands, “You’re with me, and I want to be able to make you feel like the most special girl alive.”

You were nervous, and you felt like your nails digging into your palm were bound to break through skin soon, you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip with your brows furrowed. Should you tell him? The last couple weeks of establishing your relationship was nothing short of a fantasy, but you didn't let yourself enjoy it like you wanted to in fear of coming off as selfish.

Would you be able to get the bill this time, babe? I'm a little short.

Ahh, short again. Well I did buy you that one thing... So you can maybe think of this as your payback!

I do enough for our relationship. You can pay this time, don't be greedy.

"Sanji..." you trail off, looking down at your lap once again, "The last guy I was with, he insisted that I did every thing, but the more I'm with you the more that I realize that it was probably very unnatural, to do everything for him. And I'm sorry, but I'm just now learning that." a tear trickles down your cheek. "I'm learning to unlearn this stuff, and I need your help."

He's no longer frustrated, but he can hear his heart break in his chest.

"I'll be here with you, my love. Every step of the way."

the breakthrough

It’s pushing 90 degrees today on the Sunny, and it goes without saying; everyone and everything is hot, scorching even. On days like this, or, who was he kidding? Any day, Sanji will whip up something to help the ladies feel better about any nasty weather they’re in, and while you three bask in the sunlight in your guys’ bikini’s. He loved the sight. And he most certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all day.

You sported a 2-piece, the bottom half barely covered by some unbuttoned jean shorts and because of how hot it was out, there was a thin layer of sweat that coated your form which helped accentuate every curve of your body. He watched from a distance for most of the day, almost avoiding you in fear of pouncing on you in front of everyone. You were so sexy, and he almost felt perverted like this.

He had brought over some drinks for you and Nami and Robin to help somewhat alleviate the heat you had all felt, and you three thanked him kindly, but you noticed that same glint in his eyes, the same from the night at the restaurant. A super-duper mischievous one, and you promised you’d familiarize yourself with it. You wanted so desparately get up and take him to your bedroom and let him have his fun-- but you stopped yourself, like Sanji wanted; you to enjoy your time with the girls and not to worry about anything he was making in the kitchen, what he had to clean up, that fun stuff.

“He’s practically devouring you with those eyes he’s giving you.” Robin speaks, and it leaves you a little embarrassed, laying your head down onto the beach towel, he hasn’t been so discreet about the way he was ogling you.

“Yeah well, ‘second I’m done with this drink we’ll see where it takes us.” The girls giggle, and you clink your glasses together in a silent cheers. In truth, you were nervous, but you did well to mask it. “He’s one lucky guy!” Nami says, playfully smacking your butt.

-

Finally, he has you all to himself.

You guys are making out in his bed, and he’s so hard he could die. You’re palming him through his shorts and he moans into your mouth. “Fuck, baby.” At this point your jean shorts were easily discarded onto the floor while he slowly but surely makes his way to untying your bikini. He wants it all off. And he’s not shy about it. “Finally.” He makes work of untying your top piece, and you get lost in pleasure. Your tits are even prettier than he thought, and he licks your bud before starting to suck on it. You already feel your heat pooling through your lower piece. “Th-at feels so… so good Sanji. Yes…” You’ve never felt so sensitive, but with the way Sanji was attacking your breasts all while caressing your hips, coupled with the heat, it felt like so much at one time.

Before you get lost in the absolute euphoria that is Sanji, you become aware of one fact,

This simply just isn’t about you. Those words ring like a bell in your head in the midst of the pleasure, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you let Sanji do all the work? It was so selfish of you to let yourself think that you could relish in this. After all, it’s all about him. Only, about him.

Women aren't even meant to cum, so don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart.

Trying to push away the thought, you softly cup your hand around his cheek and bring him to your lips to assert yourself.

“This is about you.” You quickly straddle his hips and grind on top of him and he groans at that, craving the new friction you gave him. you looked sexy like this, but he wanted this to go his way this time.

In an act of complete rebuttal, Sanji flips you around and you yelp, he lets out a breathless laugh “Yeah, right.” You’re on your back now, and he spreads your legs. He keeps his eyes on your cunt, looking down at it deliciously, and finally he starts stroking it through the only fabric left on your body, up and down with his thumb. You can’t help but let out a moan, this was new, you were used to being demanded--but not in this way. “San…ji… this isn’t fair to you, ba—”

The audible groan that comes out of him was loud and proud. “So tired of hearing that come from your mouth.” He gently moved your underwear to the side and started rubbing your bare clit. “You know what I think is bad manners?” He looks at you, “When I can’t make you feel like the princess you are.” You can’t help but moan, it was obvious you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

When he presses your thighs against your torso, you're almost shocked, you assume that he’d start to pull his pants down and have his way, but instead, his head comes down to meet your cunt face to face, he pressed kisses on your inner thighs and the sight is so very romantic, you feel so selfish, so very selfish.

It feels amazing.

When his tongue takes its first long swipe across your cunt, it felt dirty, and sooo good. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in and not long after he started his attack on your clit, lapping and sucking on it like a madman. “Sanji… yes.” You moan his name over and over coupled with some curses, and his hands grip tighter onto your thighs. His squelching and sucking, the sounds are so lewd, and you can feel his drool mixed with your juices trickle all the way down to the mattress. The image would forever be ingrained into your head, it was too perfect.

Sanji starts prodding into your cunt with one finger, and then inserts another, scissoring and fucking them into you while you shake under his wrath. “That feels so good, more, pleaseeee.” He meets your gaze and you want to melt at how he looks at you; like you were his lifeline. You feel a knot form in your stomach, something almost unfamiliar to you. You couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm unless it was from your own fingers.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum on mine.” And the fact that he would be the reason behind it made him only hungrier. "I can't... Baby... It’s so much. I think I might… ohhhhh…." Your mix of Sanji's and Fuck's and Yes' only grew breathier and more demanding. "Cum on my face, please, yes." He begs you and his tongue goes faster over your clit.

When you finally bust, you can only mutter a "Mmmmmmmyesssss" with a heaving chest that followed suit, hips grinding into his tongue so you could ride out your orgasm. Your face was in absolute bliss, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth a little opened from how good it felt. It's almost too much for you, he gives your cunt a few more licks before getting up and massaging your thighs with his thumbs.

"Did that feel good, princess? I'm sorry if it was a little rough." He comes down to your lips and gives you quick kiss.

"Please fuck me Sanji. I need you inside of me, please."

Who was he to deny his princess?

He kisses your lips again while making quick work of the tied knot on his shorts, he didn't even realize how hard he was until he took his shorts off, cock still in his briefs.

Sanji takes off your stretched out underwear and throws it on the floor once and for all, and his own meet yours soon after.

His cock was very long—8 inches, if you had to guess. Curved upright, and it was beautiful, but you'd be lying if you had said that you weren't a little afraid of taking it. Luckily he catches your gaze and he smiles, "You nervous, princess?"

"Just a little bit..."

"Don't be, I'll take it slow." Had you not spilled to him that night about your failure of a previous relationship, he would've taken you for a virgin the way you trembled looking at his dick. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and frustration you had endured in your previous relationship, telling him about how he never let you cum and only sought to chase his own pleasure. He was willing to change that, and right now—he’d be damned if he said the way you look at it didn't turn him all the way on. "Watch it go in. Trust me my love, it's not that bad."

You listen and nod, and you watch with him. He lets it slide across your pulsing heat a couple times before he lets his head slowly slide in, he's biting his lip and lets his own line of curses come out of his mouth. When he's about half way in, another breath you didn't know you were holding lets itself out, and another inch, and another, until he's all the way inside, and saying you felt stuffed was really an understatement.

He takes the back of your knees in your hands and spreads them a little further, he starts moving slowly and you both let your sighs of pleasure out.

He starts to pick up his pace when you ask him to, not too quick but steady enough for you to feel every detail of his cock graze your insides. Because of the heat, it's not long until you're both covered in sweat.

He can't help himself, he comes down to kiss you again and talk you through the moment.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever met."

"You look so perfect right now."

The praises were too much and you felt insanely spoiled, something you've never felt before. The slapping of skin, the closeness you felt to him, his cock steadily coming out of you, only for it to stuff you full over and over again. The way he kept his eyes on yours, it was so much. And before you knew it, tears ran down your cheeks, ones of pleasure and joy--you couldn't tell which was which.

"I love you so much, S-Sanji."

He kisses your tears away, "I love you more, princess. You're doing amazing." Kisses your lips, but not for too long as he doesn’t want to mask your beautiful sounds.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Are you gonna cum soon? I wanna see it again.”

Now, Sanji’s thrust are sloppier but a little more harder, you can tell he’s probably going to approach an orgasm soon along with you.

“Y-Yes. Ohhhhhh fuuuucckkk~”

“You take me so well, princess. You were made for me.” The clapping between your bodies gets louder, and you try your hardest to bury yourself into the pillow from how good it felt. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, like you always do, even though he looks disheveled; mouth covered in juices and spit, there’s beads of sweat running down his face, he really loves this moment with you.

“Tell me you love me” he says.

“I love you.” His thrusts are inconsistent now, but he’s still hitting the same spongy spot inside of you.

“Again.”

“I love you, Sanji. Ohhh, shit.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much! So, so much! I’m gonna cum again! Mhhh!”

And just like you spoke, you came all over him, it hit his chest, his balls, thighs, and all over the mattress, and he fucks some of it back into you while he follows you in reaching his own orgasm.

Before he can, he pulls out of you and releases the hot white liquid onto your stomach, stroking his dick til there was nothing left in him to give.

Completely disregarding the fact that he just came all over your stomach, he collapses onto you and joins you in almost synchronized breaths. “That was… amazing…” you managed to say. ��Thank you so much.”

Sanji rolls over and pulls you onto his chest, “You deserve everything and more, that was only a fragment of how much I appreciate you, sweet thing.”

To his surprise, you get up from your position and look at him. You scan his body and come to one conclusion, “I should probably clean you up a bit.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but instead he takes your arm and yanks you down with him in the same position you were before. “If I’m gonna be dirty, I’ll be dirty with to you. But if you wanna take a bath with me, that’s a different story” once again, that mischievous undertone in his voice is something you can’t miss.

You’ve still got a long way to go, but he’ll be there with you through every step.

[moonstruckme]

fae!Sirius asks for your name and you give it to him immediately because he's just so pretty wtf and he feels too bad to steal it from you because you're looking at him like he's a god and sure, it's not uncommon for his 'victims' to think he's beautiful but something about *you* just makes his little fae heart race-

I'm so normal about him I promise <3

Babe you have no idea how this has sat in my brain since you sent it all those months ago. I am not normal about him. Thank you! <3

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 804 words

Sometimes, when you leave your gifts in the forest, you’ll think you hear movement behind you. A soft crunch of the leafbed, or a rustling in the trees overhead. You’ll catch the rich scent of soil after a storm, though it hasn’t rained for days and the sky is blue and cloudless. Sirius will watch as your head lifts, noticing these things, but then you’ll simply carry on with what you’re doing, stand up, and go home. 

One day, you stand up to go home and find him waiting for you. 

“Hello, lovely,” he says, watching in amusement as your human face stills with awe. Your lips part. 

You know instantly what he is. No human carries themselves like the fae do, like Sirius could melt into the foliage at whim and you’d never find a trace of him. None of your kind have features quite so fine, or hair so dark it eats the sun. Or eyes like his, ever changing, shifting colors like a fish’s scales. No, you recognize him with one look. 

To your credit, you recover quickly. “Hello,” you say back. 

Sirius smiles with his too-white teeth. “What have you brought me this time?” 

You look behind you, to the tree hollow where you leave your gifts, as though you’ve already forgotten. “Oh. It’s a new cheese I found. Sea salt and honey.” 

Sirius cocks his head, intrigued. “I’ve not had that before.” 

“I thought you might not have.” Your initial surprise is wearing off, giving way to a sweet airiness. Your smile is soft as fresh snow. “I try to bring new things for you to try. I didn’t realize how small the portions would be, though; you’re bigger than I thought.” 

Sirius looks at you, making his eyes flash. He expects you to flinch, but you gasp softly, leaning in as if to see better. Strange. 

“You think that because I’m this size now, I must always be,” he says. 

“Aren’t you?” 

He tsks, teasing. “Best not to make presumptions.” 

Once again, curiosity rules your expression. Your eyes squint and your brows twitch towards each other, but before you can ask more questions Sirius goes on. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a simple truth. He wonders if you know he can’t lie. “If you’d let me repay your generosity, I’d like to give you a gift in return.” 

Again, your lips part, but you hesitate. Such pretty lips, Sirius thinks. So expressive. 

“That’s alright,” you say after a moment. “I don’t need anything. They were for you.” 

Sirius hides a smile. Clever thing, not to accept gifts from the fae. 

“If that’s what you want.” He asks, in a voice like spidersilk, “But what should I call the beautiful girl who’s left me so many gifts?” 

You smile and give him your name without reservation. Perhaps not so clever after all. 

Sirius says it back to you, rolling it around in his mouth. It leaves a sweet aftertaste on his tongue. You nod in clueless confirmation. 

“Can I ask yours?” 

“No,” says Sirius, “you may not.” 

You don’t appear offended. Your eyes are placid and trusting. Maybe it’s that look that makes him hesitate. Sirius knows what he’s meant to do now, what he’s done to others before you, but he finds himself tempted to wait. To see what you do next. 

“Well,” you say after a long silence, “I hope you like the cheese. If you want more, I can bring you some next time, but I should probably be getting home now.” 

“So soon?” Sirius asks. Though the breeze is cooling, and the sun’s dying rays tangle in your hair. 

You smile, almost apologetic. “Yeah, but—oh. Here, I forgot.” You reach into your bag, drawing out a long feather. It’s onyx black and shines like oil in the fading sunlight. “I found this at a friend’s house a few days ago, I meant to leave it with the cheese.” You look at him, shameless in your appraisal. “It sort of looks like your hair.” 

Sirius smiles, feeling the stretch of his lips with an odd sort of amusement. “It does,” he agrees. He lets you place the feather in his hand and feels the warmth of your fingertips on his skin with something like awe. A human has never been so bold as to touch him before. 

“I’ll visit soon,” you say, granting him one last, serene smile as you turn to go. “I hope you come out and say hello.” 

He thinks that he might. As you walk away, feet padding softly on grass and the shadows of trees falling over you like loving touches, he considers stealing the name you gave him so freely. 

But you’re lovely, and Sirius is a hedonist. He wants a taste of those lips given of your own free will. 

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of masturbation, mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris set aside your differences to join forces and close on a sweet deal with a local supplier.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 |

You and Chris rode in your silver Honda Accord through the rainy streets, following all the laws, using your turn signals, and driving the speed limit. Not because you were law-abiding citizens but because you had about twelve bricks of the city's finest coke stashed in a suitcase in your trunk.

"So, what now? We go bag this shit?" Chris asked, fidgeting with one of his rings. "I mean, I'm not doing anything tonight. Are you?" You asked, your eyes darting over at the boy slouched down in his seat beside you. He shook his head and shrugged.

"Let's go back to my place. I'll make coffee, and we can stay up tonight bagging. Tomorrow we start selling," you suggested, glancing into your rearview and fixing your gaze back on the car in front of you.

"You know, you're a pretty established dealer. Pretty high up there. What do you go on your own runs for, ma? I'm sure you could pay someone to do it," Chris wondered, hoping he could be a candidate for the job.

"I don't need help, Chris," you shook your head. "I didn't say you need it. I'm just wondering why you don't," he clarified.

"I like to do shit myself, Chris. It keeps me busy, it makes me more money, and if I'm the one doing it, I know it's getting done efficiently. Why would I pay someone to dip into my stash and give product away to their friends behind my back?" You shrugged.

"Damn, ma. You got trust issues," Chris shook his head. "Don't you?" You inquired, peering over at Chris. "Nah, I don't think so," Chris replied, staring out his window at the falling rain.

"You're telling me you've been in this business for how long, and you've never been fucked over?" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Nah, I haven't," Chris mumbled. "Then someone's fucking you over, and you don't know about it," you dryly responded.

"Damn, ma. That's not a very bright outlook, but if that's how you wanna be," Chris shook his head. "I'm just being realistic," you shrugged. "Who hurt you?" Chris asked, sounding somewhat genuine with his question.

"Wouldn't you like to know? I'm not playing this twenty questions shit. We're not having a heart-to-heart right now, alright? We're just doing business," you rolled your eyes, putting up your defenses.

"That's fine, ma. I don't mind when they're tough to crack," Chris joked with a playfulness in his tone, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The two of you drove silently through the slick streets back to your place where you unloaded the heavy suitcase. You started a pot of coffee, the smell of the medium-roast brew drifting through the air as you started to take off your blazer, kick off your heels, and unstrap your gun.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go change," you declared, making your way to the bottom of the staircase. You reached around to try to unzip your dress, but it didn't budge. "Shit," you whispered, fidgeting with the stuck zipper.

"Need help?" Chris asked you, starting to walk towards you. "No, I got it," you told him, but you didn't have it, and you were still struggling. "C'mon, ma. You don't have to do everything yourself all the time," Chris chuckled, coming up behind you.

You felt silly. Earlier, you were bragging about how you didn't need anyone, and now you were being humbled by a piece of metal that was stuck on a thread from your dress.

Chris fiddled with it for a few minutes. "Got it," Chris said as you heard the slow ziiip as it came undone.

He tried to remain professional about it, but he found himself nearly holding his breath as his eyes traveled to the curve of your back and how pretty your skin looked in the soft, dim lighting.

Suddenly, his phone started to vibrate, pulling him out of the trance you unknowingly held him in. He let go of your zipper, and his hand flew to his phone that was in his pocket.

"Who's that?" You asked, peeking at him from over your shoulder. A pang of guilt about how he'd been looking at you all night surged through him as he peered down at his screen. "My girlfriend," Chris replied, glancing back up at you.

You pulled your gaze away from his. A very small part of you felt a little jealous and hurt because you'd thought Chris had been flirting with you all night.

"Don't tell her too many details about our deal tonight. The fewer people that know the names, locations, and prices, the better," you told him, and he nodded at you.

"Hey, baby. I'm gonna be stuck at work pretty late tonight. No, don't wait up for me," he told her as you started ascending the stairs. "I know, I know," you heard his voice take on a more sultry tone.

"I know. I bet you miss my cock so much right now, don't you, baby?" Chris cooed into the phone, his voice sounding further and further away as you got closer to your room. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his vulgarity.

You shut your door behind you, slipping your straps off your shoulders and letting the fabric drop to the floor. You unhooked your bra and let out a sigh of relief as it fell, joining your dress that laid at your feet. You tossed them into the hamper and slipped into sweatpants and a sweater.

Your eyes danced across Chris' jeans, his shirt, and his hoodie that were thrown into a pile next to your bed. You couldn't help but kind of like the idea of Chris' clothes littering your bedroom floor, but you tried to push that thought out of your mind upon learning that he was dating someone and upon remembering that you totally hated him.

You threw your hair up in a bun and started back out your door to let Chris know he could use your room to change now. You stood at the top of the stairs as Chris' voice came back into earshot.

"I know, baby. Pretend your fingers are mine, alright? C'mon. Be a good girl and cum all over them for me," you heard Chris say into the phone in your living room. Your jaw fell open, your breath caught in your throat, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth.

You felt your body temperature rise as you slowly descended the steps, listening while he talked her through it. You knew Chris self-reportedly knew how to talk to people, but you didn't know it extended to the bedroom, too.

You felt a slickness between your thighs as Chris' seductive voice danced through the air. You tiptoed down your stairs, peeking over the banister at Chris, who was sitting on your couch, legs splayed out, gently caressing the bulge in his pants while he spoke to his girlfriend.

Your eyes widened, and you pulled back before Chris could see you. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat before descending the stairs the rest of the way. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Chris jump a bit.

"Sorry, baby. I gotta go. Gotta get back to work. I'll come over once I'm done. I love you," he told her before hastily hanging up. Chris leaned forward on your couch, placing both his elbows on his knees, and interlocking his fingers to hide how hard he was.

It wasn't very often that men made you lose your composure, but as your gaze met Chris', you hoped he wouldn't notice your flushed expression.

"You can go change out of that corny ass suit if you want. Room's all yours," you casually told him. "Thanks, ma," he said, getting up quickly and darting up your stairs, hoping you didn't overhear his phone conversation.

Chris stepped into your room, shedding the layers of the suit that was too big for him, and he climbed back into the clothes he started off in, making sure to tuck his erection into the waistband of his boxers. He neatly folded the suit over the back of your chair before departing from your room and heading back down the steps.

He found you in the kitchen, pouring two mugs of hot, black drip coffee, steam rising into the air as you emptied the pot. Your eyes rose up to meet his again, and you gave him a subtle smile.

"So, what's your girlfriend like?" You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it as you handed him the dark blue ceramic mug that was filled nearly to the brim. Chris nodded, silently thanking you for the beverage as he took it from you.

"Her name is Daisy. She's a very sweet person. She's affectionate. She's understanding. She cooks and cleans," Chris told you, smiling to himself. You could tell he was really in love with her by the way he spoke about her. "She gives great head," Chris added.

"Gross!" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes and giving Chris a look of disgust. "You almost had me. You almost had me thinking you were a romantic."

"I am a romantic. I always return the favor," he cracked a smug grin in your direction as he said it. You scoffed in annoyance. "How long have you guys been together?" You wondered. You placed both your hands around your coffee mug, enjoying the heat it provided and taking a long sip.

"About six months," he responded after counting on his fingers and thinking about it for a second. "She know you sell?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow. Chris sighed and shook his head.

"Chris," you said sternly, setting your cup down on your marble counter top. "You can't keep something like that from her. That's not fair," you told him, looking him dead in the eye.

"I know. But it's either I keep it from her, or I have her worrying about me all the time," Chris replied, scanning your expression for some kind of understanding. "If you knew her, you'd know why I made the decision I did to keep it from her."

"No, Chris. She might worry about you, but she has a right to. This is a dangerous business. What if you get raided when she's over at your place? What if someone robs you? What if you get arrested and she doesn't know until she sees your mugshot?" You said, raising your voice.

Chris was silent. He hadn't considered any of those scenarios until the words left your mouth.

"This business is dangerous, Chris. Everyone around you is subject to the risk," you reminded him, running your fingers along the letters of your name engraved into the mug in front of you.

"So, that's why you don't ever get close to anyone, huh, ma?" Chris smugly suggested, reading you like a book. "You don't know me," you scoffed, narrowing your gaze and folding your arms across your chest.

"When's the last time you dated anyone?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow. "Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, and let's bag this shit," you angrily huffed, picking up your drink and pushing past him. "You got it, ma," Chris agreed, nearly spilling his coffee as you shoulderchecked him.

You unzipped the suitcase, revealing the neatly organized bricks of white powder and perfectly stacked cash. You picked up a $10,000 bundle and handed it to Chris, but before you let go of it, you gave him a serious look.

"Chris, don't go spending this on anything. Got it? This is part of our reup money after we sell all this."

In most cases, you wouldn't have even given it to him, yet, but it was a test. It was great that Chris could talk to people and get you discounted deals, but you had to make sure he was good with his money.

"Don't worry, ma. I know what I'm doing," Chris said with a sly smirk, but you didn't take people for their word. You watched their actions.

"First things first, I'm always testing my shit," you said, pulling a test kit out of a drawer. You pulled out a switch blade and made just the tiniest slit in the plastic wrap around the brick.

"I just get out the tiniest bit, and I'm gonna mix it with this solution here, and based off what color it turns, it'll tell us exactly what we have. Whether it's pure coke, whether it's cut with something," you taught him, holding the test tube up to eye level. "It usually doesn't take too long. Ah, look at that. Bright blue. It's pure," you said, smiling.

"Miles tried to sell me bunk shit once, but I told him what's up, and now he only sells me pure shit. He knows we'd have a problem if he tried to give me anything less. I still check anyway," you mentioned, glancing over at the blue-eyed boy to your left who was mesmerized by you.

He loved the way you looked like some kind of sexy chemist or badass drug lord, and it was undeniably turning him on a bit. He watched and listened intently, soaking up all the knowledge you bestowed upon him.

"Alright, Chris. When I'm bagging, I usually do it in fairly small quantities, and then I take those bundles and put them together. So, we want all the small baggies in a pile, and we want it to add up to a kilo, so it's very important we only break open one brick at a time," you told him, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bunch of little plastic ziploc bags.

"I don't like to count things a million times, so we're gonna make piles of ten. We're weighing out mostly eight balls, and we use the scale every time. No eyeballing shit," you stated, handing him a stack of bags.

"Yes, ma. You know, you teaching me all this, it's kind of sexy," Chris admitted, peering over at you. You rolled your eyes and stared back at him. "You shouldn't be saying that kind of shit when you have a girlfriend who's laying in bed waiting for you right now while you're out bagging up drugs she doesn't know anything about," you replied coldly, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn, ma. It's just a little playful flirting. I think intention matters, and I'm not trying to actually do anything about it," Chris shrugged, scooping an eight ball into the tiny square bag. "Intention matters, but so does perception. What if I liked it?" You asked, weighing out your bundle.

"You do," Chris smirked, looking over at you. "No, I don't," you dryly answered. "I'm just saying, you flirt like a single man. It gives off the wrong impression. Leads people on," you replied.

"What? You gonna fall for me, ma?" Chris nudged you in the leg with his. You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying his accusation with a response.

The two of you continued to weigh out the powder, methodically organizing it the same way you always did. Despite the thrills and everyday excitement that came with being a dealer, these were the times you really looked forward to - the mundane.

This is where you felt most relaxed, sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee at the end of the day, just counting, your heart, beating at a resting rate, and your mind, temporarily free of worry.

It was almost nice to have company - even if your company was a former enemy who you weren't sure if you could trust yet. It just felt nice to have someone that could bask in the silence with you while the rest of the world slept soundly.

"Wow. Is it really that time already?" Chris asked, peering over at the analog clock on your wall that read 2 a.m. You yawned and took a sip of your coffee before rubbing your tired eyes. "Time flies when you're having fun," you dryly replied, stretching your arms above your head.

"I should probably head out. I told my girl I'd stay over at her place tonight," Chris responded, glancing down at his phone to see if he had any missed texts. "I can drive you," you offered. "No, I can't let you do that. Look at how tired you are," Chris declined, getting up from your couch.

"Trust me, Chris. It's safer if I drive you. Neighborhoods around here can be sketchy at night," you warned him, gesturing towards the bundle of cash he'd made from the deal. "Ah, you got a point, ma," Chris smirked at you, reconsidering your offer.

"You know, if you're gonna be my partner in crime, you gotta be smarter," you joked, reaching for your keys. Chris followed you out the door, stepping out into the stormy weather.

Your heavy eyelids struggled to stay open as you fixed your gaze on the freshly paved road. The soothing vibration of your tires driving over the smooth asphalt almost made it harder for you to stay awake.

The two of you rode in silence, Chris tapping away on his phone and looking up every few minutes to direct you down different side streets.

You rolled to a stop underneath a flickering streetlight when you pulled up to Daisy's house, a single light bulb lighting up her doorstep. She always left the porch light on and the door unlocked for Chris when she knew he would be coming over late after work.

"Hey," you stopped him before he stepped out of the car. "Thank you for tonight. I'm really impressed with what you did back there with the deal and everything. Plus, we bagged up the product in half the time that it would have taken me to do it myself," you told him.

"Told you I could be valuable to you, ma. Thanks for giving me a chance, and thank you for the ride," he said, cracking a smile. "Yeah, of course, and thanks for the company. It was.. nice," you shrugged, fiddling with the gear shifter.

His stare lingered on your lips for a second before flickering back up to your eyes, and you swore he was about to lean in and kiss you, but his eyes darted straight ahead, and his hand flew up to the door handle. "Night, ma," he murmured, gently easing your car door open and stepping back out into the drizzling rain that was finally letting up.

You got about half a block before you heard the vibration of your phone in your cup holder. Chris' contact information appeared on your screen. Thinking he must have left something in your car, you picked up and slowed your speed, preparing to turn around. "Chris?" You said into the speaker.

"Hey, ma. I just wanted to stay on the phone with you and keep you up until you get back home. You looked pretty tired," Chris quietly answered. "You didn't have to do that," you replied.

"I know, but I could never forgive myself if you didn't make it back safe, ma," Chris replied, still standing outside on Daisy's porch and staring up at the clouds that were passing over the moon. You couldn't help but to smile at his words. It felt nice to have someone care about you. "Plus, I wouldn't know what to do with all this coke if you croaked," he added.

There it was. Every time Chris said something somewhat endearing, he always ruined it by following it up with something perverted or vile. "Gee, thanks, Chris," you sarcastically murmured.

"What are you gonna do when you get home, ma?" Chris casually asked. "I'm probably gonna pass out the second my head hits the pillow," you said, straightening your back and rapidly blinking your eyes to refocus them. "How about you?"

"Probably smoke a joint. Maybe jerk off," he casually admitted, shrugging his shoulders and putting a hand in his pocket.

"Well, you're just an open book, aren't you?" You replied, your heart racing as you pictured him with a pleasured look on his face, pumping his fist around his cock. "I mean, you asked, and I have nothing to hide," Chris replied.

After a moment of silence, his voice came through again. "You're imagining it, aren't you?" A smirk crept into his expression. "What? Gross. I-I'm not. No," you defensively responded, his assumption catching you off guard.

"Relaaax, ma. I'm fucking with you," Chris chuckled. You rolled your eyes as you cranked the steering wheel, turning onto your street. "Well, Chris. Have fun with that. I'm about to pull into my driveway. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

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[andie-chr]

And you know what, actually, this does deserve a response because I feel like you didn’t understand me.

Let’s start at the beginning, okay? One; The resources I was talking about was therapy, news articles that aren’t censored, suicide hotlines, therapy chat rooms, TikTok technically can be a resource too because it’s an app that’s a vast range of knowledge from so many different perspectives.

Two: I’m assuming you’re talking about Nex, a lot of people (including myself) doubts that it actually was a suicide. And let’s take it further, even if it was; Nex was previously bullied before that upcoming event. And what is a hate crime exactly? Simply bullying a person for something they can’t control (sexuality) or was born with (race).

Three: I did not call you a Nazi or anything else you already told yourself. I said the lengths you are going to with your account and not posting any other content REMINDED me of Nazi’s or KKK accounts or pages. I have no idea if you are a minority. Why? Because you have went to specific lengths to conceal the fact you are, given your page.

And last and not least; immediately insulting me after I tried to have an honest conversation with you is not only a new level of immaturity (seeing as you’re in your 20’s or so you say) but it’s also seeing that you don’t give two damns what I’m trying to say. Further proving continuing this conversation is a waste of both of our times, as I’m trying to explain but you don’t want to understand.

Like I said previously, blocking me is always an option. So is blocking the person who you reblogged and exactly where I found you from. If you are okay staying with your peace of mind, I won’t try to change it. But insulting me because I’m offering a new perspective is simply just ignorant.

imagine how much of a fucking horrible person you have to be that on the first day your elected into office the crisis calls of a Suicide Prevention Project Go Up 33%. The Trevor Project Received over 1,400 Call By Early Monday Afternoon. Most of those calls, if not all, are coming from children. Children scared of you and what you will do. Imagine how much power and how horrible you have to be to do that.

[profundcherrylady]

Thinking about yoichi isagi dating an Itoshi, Sae and Rin's little sister who is for sure someone unique. Contrary to popular belief, she's very sweet (to him); she just has a bit of a rough exterior. Her nonchalant attitude and piercing teal eyes, along with her unfiltered words, often come off as rude to most people, but Isagi knew better; he had managed to crack the walls she set up protecting her real personality, and he couldn't be happier with what he found inside. People would often stare amazed at how he could read the slightest change on her blank expression, praising how well he knew her to always know exactly what she needed; from just a warm cup of coffee to fight her tiredness to a soft hug to lift up her spirits. Now they were 24 and 22, celebrating two years of being together.

Or at least what she understood by celebrating, which was essentially staying home and skipping her responsibilities by laying down on bed and relaxing like a lazy cat.

A cat. How could he ever need a cat when he has her? He smiled sweetly at her figure comfortably resting; hair tousled and a shirt of his put on to, as she stated before, 'smell his scent' while he was away practicing or training. She could not care less about football or the fact that he couldn't skip his responsibilities to stay with her today, she would just wait until he came home.

"Honey." he called, earning a soft mumble as a response. "Let's go out."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's our anniversary."

"So?"

"So I want to do something nice for you. 'Cause that's what couples do on anniversaries, y'know? We give each other stuff and go out for dinner or something. Do you wanna do that?"

"No." to anyone else that answer might've seen cold and cruel, but not to him; he knew she was just too comfortable to get out of bed, and that saying 'no' to his invitation was her way of saying 'stay here with me'. But she was too stubborn to ask him directly, that he also knew, and yet he felt like teasing her a little.

"What do you wanna do then?" she opened her eyes, finally, and looked at him silently. Her usual blank stare was piercing through him, like trying to non-verbally communicate what she wanted. And it did, he knew, and she knew that he knew, and she also knew that he wanted her to say it. But just like a stubborn cat, she didn't say anything else. She adjusted herself on the bed, changing positions slightly, and stretched; a yawn that almost resembled a meowl escaping her lips. And then nothing else; the message was clear. She wanted him to join her in bed and cuddle, because she missed him while he was out, but fire would fall from the sky before she said that out loud even though they were in a long-term relationship. Typical Itoshi, he thought. It was like Rin calling him 'lukewarm' all over again.

"Just do whatever then..." she finally said, still refusing to admit what she wanted. "I'll sleep.."

"Wanna cuddle?" he could almost see the imaginary cat ears on she had on his head twitch in alert, and the thought almost made him chuckle. He silently walked towards the bed and layed down next to her, where almost instantly she trapped him on her arms. Head laid on his chest and his arm used as a pillow, she became inmediately relaxed as she took a deep breath of his scent.

"You stink." yet she made no effort in pulling away. He could almost hear her purring like an actual cat.

"I'll go take a bath if that's the case." he said it as a joke, and then laughed when he heard her mumble a complain.

"No." he didn't actually stink. He did just return from training, but he took a shower previously right after he came home.

He then placed his free hand on top of her head and started playing with her hair, and she let out a sigh as he felt his fingers scratching her scalp softly, yet just right.

"Better now?"

"Yeah..." she purred, finally letting down her walls again. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." he placed a soft kiss on her head. "You still don't wanna go out?"

"Hmm... too tired..." she murmured. "It's comfortable here..."

"Alright, then. We'll celebrate lowkey this year; let's just chill... you hungry though? We can still order takeout or whatever."

"Noooo... just stay here." she gave him a bite when he tried to sit up. An old habit she (according to Sae) had ever since she was a kid. To bite people she likes; she would apparently always get in trouble for bitting Rin or him when they were little. Their parents would discover the bite marks on their arms and ground her because she isn't an animal, or her teachers would call home after she bit some of the classmates or teachers she particularly liked. It was weird, Sae stated, like Rin's strange habit of drooling and sticking out his tongue. Seems none of the Itoshis can be normal members of society.

"Ouch." the bite didn't really hurt but it was always funny to pretend it did. He didn't mind it; he thought it was cute. "Okay, I'm staying in bed. Happy?"

"Yes."

"You still want your anniversary gifts at least?"

"I don't need gifts, nor anything else; I just want to stay like this." he smiled before moving his head down to press a kiss on her lips, which she recieved happily, his own lips moving in experienced synchronization with hers. He stayed there, refusing to pull away for a while, because she was right. This was too comfortable to do anything else; it was better to stay like this.

Oh, well, the ring on the gift box he had prepared would have to wait another year, but this moment made it all worth it.

A/N: I love Isagi too much y'all 😭🙏

Btw this was inspired by an oc of mine, that's why it's so specific; I was just thinking about her and wanted to write something.

[lyvhie]

Thoughts on jeno with an impreg kink? I can see him wanting a baby real bad and eventually fucking reader until she’s pregnant…😣

── .✦ nice, full and deep

lee jeno x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: jeno has always known what he wanted and now he's really fixated on having a baby with you. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, mating press, breeding kink, unprotected sex, kinda... kinda possessive words here. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HII, ANOON!!! it took me a while, but here it is 💐. honestly, this was kinda hard bc bc bc bc im not a fan of breeding, BUT i tried and it was actually fun, i hope you like it 🥺💖 (yes, babies, im changing this layout again, when will i stop 😨)

Jeno never really thought too much about having kids. Sure, he had voiced his desire to build a family with you a few times—it was a big step, but one he was certain he was more than ready to take with you by his side.

But that was it. It wasn’t like he was actively trying to get you pregnant or anything. At least, not until something inside him shifted when he saw you interacting with the kids at the family gathering. The way you effortlessly held his baby niece in your arms, rocking her gently while murmuring soft words, or how you laughed as his little cousins tugged at your hands, begging you to play—it did something to him, something almost primal. Suddenly, the idea of you carrying his child wasn’t just a distant dream. It was a need, a craving that settled deep in his bones.

You're not sure exactly how it happened, all you know is that the moment you stepped inside your house, he was all over you. His hands were firm, almost desperate, as he pushed you toward the bedroom, his lips claiming yours in a feverish kiss, clothes were gone in an instant, discarded with an impressive speed.

And that's where you are now: pinned beneath him, your body folded in half as he pressed your knees against your chest, completely caging you in. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you open as he drove into you, his cock buried impossibly deep, stretching you perfectly. Each thrust pushed you further into the mattress, the sheer weight of him keeping you in place, as if he never wanted to let go.

“You were made for this," he groaned, voice thick with need, his grip tightening on your thighs. The way you stretched around him, the way your body clung to him, pulling him deeper, it drove him insane. "Look at you, taking me so well. You want it, don't you? Want me to fill you up?”

The words sent a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly. You were too far gone to deny it, too lost in the way he fucked you-fast, rough, relentless, like he was determined to fuck his claim into you. His hips snapped against yours with brutal precision, each thrust forcing desperate moans from your lips as he held you down, making sure you had no choice but to take everything he gave you.

He chuckled, dark and breathless, feeling your reaction. "You like that, hm? I bet you'd look so good carrying my baby," he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, soft, almost sweet, a contrast to the way he was fucking you. "Gonna make sure it takes," he murmured, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix. "Gonna fuck my baby into you, make you so full of me you'll never forget who you belong to.”

His thrusts grew more erratic as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. With a few more deep strokes, he spilled inside you, filling your womb with thick, hot spurts of cum.

Your walls fluttered around him, milking every last drop as he groaned against your skin, his grip on your thighs loosened. The warmth of his release sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless beneath him.

He stayed inside you for a moment, catching his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His hands ran lazily over your body, as if savoring the way you felt beneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks.

"Fuck," he finally muttered, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Look at you... all fucked out and full of me,” his fingers trailed down your stomach, pressing lightly just above your navel. "Bet you can feel it, can't you?" He pushed in just enough to make you whimper, your body still sensitive from the intensity of it all.

“Can’t waste a single drop, baby,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you and rolling his hips slightly, still impossibly hard inside you as he starts to move again. "Gotta keep you nice and full, make sure it sticks.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[minaharkerdailymirror]

Mina felt herself tear up as he told her he didn't taste Dracula, he tasted her strength he tasted her power. It made her feel like she had more control of what happened that she actually did

And then she had a name of the bastard. Marius. Good, she was going to remember that for later. But as he spoke of his pain, she held him tightly, "It's different, you were a child. You never were given any choice. You were never told you could. If you'd refused him, he'd have just taken what he wanted anyway, as Dracula did. I could not fight him by myself. I had help. I had people fighting for me. You did not. You couldn't help what happened and it wasn't your fault. You made the best out of a shit situation to survive."

He at least realized what happened with that bastard wasn't alright. That was progress.

Oh Mina couldn't wait to find a way to kill him.

But for now, she focused on her husband's pain. It would be too easy to just brush off his fear of what tasting his blood would do to her, but he'd already lived this before. She could say she would be different, and she could resist. But he'd had to have heard that from Daniel, and Daniel had proven him right.

"I won't ever ask again;," she told him quietly, "If you change your mind later, we can talk about it. But I want you to know....whatever happens, I trust you."

She knew there may be a time in the future where something might happen to her, and he'd have to make a decision. And whatever decision he made, she would never hold against him. If he let her go, she could finally rest....but if he opened his vein and turned her....would she be alright with that? Because Mina knew the agonizing grief of watching someone die in front of you; someone you loved more than anything.

SHe rested her forehead on his, "Can you taste how much I love you? Can you feel it radiating out of me when you look at me?"

Mina snorted when he whined, "Yes, we're playing but you should still know. In character, I should tie you down and give you a good couple of taps but it's just my instinct darling. I'll be better."

Because he wasn't evil.

When he asked about Dracula, when he brought that animal into their marriage bed, Mina felt her stomach clench. She shook her head on instinct, "No. I never wanted it. I never wanted him. It was forced into me...a little bit each time...and then he would make me forget and the next night it was the whole thing again."

And then those nights returned to her years later, stacking on each other as she processed what a nightmare she'd truly lived those weeks

She struggled to find the right words to say, "I know i've probably bled out his blood a long time ago. I've not been kind to my body. But it still feels like his rot is in me sometimes. Do you taste it when you drink from me? Do you feel....do you feel him?"

She rested her hand on his chest, "If you don't wish me to, I'll never ask again. I know it's all in my head and this is your body. It's your choice what you do with it."

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 16 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

A/N: Fair warning there might be a couple of typos and shit in this part because I’m too tired to proofread properly

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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The door of the theater falls shut behind us with a loud bang and I can’t stop myself from flinching ever so slightly.

Sam squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, letting my eyes roam around the room.

Nothing’s changed since the last time we were here and I cringe once again at the sight of the mannequins on the stage dressed in the old Ghostface cloaks.

It’s eerily quiet, but the knowledge that backup is ready to jump in and help us when Kirby gives them a signal brings me some sense of peace.

When Sam and I came out of the bathroom earlier Bailey had left to go to the station which gave me the chance to pull Kirby aside and tell her about what we figured out while Sam distracted the others, especially Ethan who kept looking at me with his big doe eyes.

She believed me instantly and we quickly came to the conclusion that in order to end this we either have to kill Bailey, Quinn, and Ethan, or get a confession out of them, so they go to prison for the rest of their lives.

I opted for the latter because I’m sick of people dying, but we agreed that should anything go wrong, we will kill them.

We also agreed that the less people are involved the better, so Kirby called the hospital Anika is at and convinced them to call Mindy in Anika’s name, saying she wanted to see her girlfriend.

We tried to come up with a plan to get Chad out of the way as well, but nothing came to mind, which is why he’s here with us now.

Danny’s also here, but we left him outside under the guise of needing someone to call for help in case something goes wrong.

He doesn’t know that the FBI is already stationed nearby, waiting to be called in by Kirby.

Sam, Kirby, and I are the only ones who know and even though I wanted to tell Tara and Chad, I never got the chance because we were never alone.

At first, Danny and Ethan were with us, and then it was just Danny because I managed to prevent Ethan from getting on the same subway as us by shoving a stranger in his way.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon though, just like Bailey who’s in on the “plan”.

We told him we wanted to trap Ghostface and execute him which he immediately agreed to since he doesn’t know we know about him yet.

He was super supportive and even told us to use public transport to avoid getting targeted, and if I didn’t know better I would have actually believed that he was concerned.

I still don’t know why he, Quinn, and Ethan are doing all this, but I guess we’ll find out sooner.

“I cleared the whole place before you got here,” Kirby says, turning to face us. “This—“ she nods her head at the door we just came in through, “—is the only way in or out.”

“What about weapons?” Sam asks, her hand still in mine.

Tara is holding onto Chad’s arm, nodding along to what Sam just asked.

“One gun and I hold onto it,” Kirby lies. She slipped me a knife earlier when I told her about what we found out.

It’s tucked into the waistband of my pants, hidden by my sweater, and not even Sam knows about it.

I know right now would probably be a good time to come clean and tell Chad and Tara everything we know (and tell Sam about the knife), but we can’t be sure that this place isn’t bugged.

“I’m the only one with a badge, so that’s the way it’s going to be,” Kirby says when the others look at her in disbelief. “We’re safe here,” she adds and even though I know the FBI is on standby outside, I’m still not entirely convinced. There’s three Ghostfaces and four of us, and they’re all armed.

This is going to be fun. . .

I wish we’d had more time to plan, because this is all super reckless, but we can’t risk someone else getting hurt, so it will have to do.

The others look skeptical, too, but no one voices their concerns and a moment later Sam’s phone rings. She disconnects our hands and pulls it out of her pocket, her eyebrows furrowing when she sees that it’s Mindy who’s calling her.

She glances at me and I dip my chin, wordlessly telling her to answer it.

“Mindy? Hey, you okay?” she says. She walks off in search of better reception and I let her be, turning to Chad and Tara who are eyeing the glass display cases with disgust while Kirby makes her own way through the theater, looking at everything with her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sprout. . . Chad,” I say quietly, approaching them. They turn with furrowed eyebrows and smile weakly when they see me.

“Y/N.” Chad exhales sharply and I squeeze his arm reassuringly.

“You guys okay?” I ask.

Tara shakes her head and hugs me while Chad grimaces. “Not really,” she whispers. “I’m scared.”

I sigh and hold her closer. “Yeah, me too.”

“Same. . .” Chad watches us with a forlorn look and I chuckle softly before pulling him into the hug as well.

“You’ll be okay. Both of you, I promise.” I press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head and nudge Chad.

They both shudder and tighten the hug before my phone rings and I’m forced to pull away.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I pull it out of my pocket, but then the sight of Paige’s name flashing across the screen makes me relax again.

It’s not Ghostface, Y/N. Calm down.

“Paige, hey. Everything okay? Are you in the city yet?”

Despite the situation, Paige laughs softly. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m not in the city yet, I still have two hours to go. I’m just calling to tell you that the hospital called.”

The tentative smile that pulled at my lips just a second ago vanishes and I tighten my grip on the phone. “A-and?”

“Lee’s still in surgery, but he’s stable.”

Tears prick at my eyes and I spin around to avoid Tara’s and Chad’s concerned looks. “Okay, that’s good. That’s really good.”

I swallow thickly to get rid of the growing lump in my throat and Paige sighs on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, it is. . . so what about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but—“

The lights turn off and the call disconnects. A scream pierces through the silent theater and I whirl around.

Tara.

She and Chad seem to be unharmed, but they’re tripping over their feet, trying to get away from something, of rather, someone.

It’s hard to make out what’s happening in the dark, but even before a homemade Stab movie gets projected onto the white curtains that have been lowered in front of the stage, I know that Ghostface is here.

Baile, Ethan and Quinn are here, right now, and we didn’t see it coming.

How didn’t we know? There’s only one entrance and we would have heard them come in. Right?

But what if Kirby overlooked a different entrance? What if she didn’t search the place probably?

Speaking of Kirby, my blood runs cold when my eyes land on her. Her face is covered in blood, and it looks like her nose is broken, but what’s more important is the blood on her shirt from a stab wound in her stomach and the knife pressed against her neck by Ghostface, standing behind her.

Ethan or Quinn. . . Bailey is taller.

“Fuck.” I rush to pull Tara and Chad behind me, feeling anger rising in the pit of my stomach when Ghostface tilts his head mockingly.

This is not how this was supposed to go down. Kirby was supposed to stay hidden, she was supposed to observe and call for backup.

Movement out of the corner of my eye makes my heart skip a beat, but when I turn my head, there’s nothing there.

A second later though I feel a presence on my other side, and I whirl around, expecting another Ghostface, but it’s just Sam, wide-eyed and panting.

“They’re here,” she breathes, “They’re—“ she freezes when her eyes land on Kirby, “—Fuck.”

She grabs my arm, and together we shield Chad and Tara while Ghostface continues to watch us wordlessly.

Kirby is deathly still in his hold, despite the obvious pain she’s in because she knows that if she even attempts to reach for her gun or her radio, her throat will be slit.

Some blood is already trickling down her throat because of how hard Ghostface is pressing the knife against her skin, and I shiver, remembering how I was in that same position a year ago.

Every breath, every blink could be your last one, and it’s a horrifying experience.

This is definitely not how I thought this would go. Was I skeptical of our half-assed planned? Yes. Was I expecting it to go off the rails at some point? Also, yes, but I didn’t think shit would be hitting the fan this quickly.

Well, there’s no point in keeping my mouth shut any longer.

“Let her go, Ethan. She has nothing to do with this,” I say lowly. I know it’s him because Quinn is even shorter than her brother and she probably wouldn’t have had the strength to overwhelm Kirby.

Ghostface falters ever so slightly, obviously surprised that I know who’s under the mask, but he doesn’t move or say anything.

“What are you doing?” Tara hisses, tugging on the back of my sweater. “That’s not Ethan.”

Sam squeezes my arm, and I glance over my shoulder for a split second to meet Tara’s eyes. “Yes it is,” I say, forcing myself to sound calm. “He’s behind all of this with Quinn and Bailey.”

“What?” Chad lets out a surprised gasp.

Someone starts clapping slowly behind us and we all whirl around to see Bailey standing there next to another Ghostface.

He’s smiling menacingly and claps one more time before exhaling dramatically. “I knew you’d figure it out. I mean, the way you looked at me at the police station after the bodega. . . I knew you knew something was up.”

I narrow my eyes, but stay quiet.

There’s no way to get a confession out of all of them now, at least not one we can use against them in court because Kirby was supposed to record everything, so we’re moving on to plan b.

Kill them. Kill all of them. Make them pay for what they’ve done to Liam, Gale, Anika, and Brooks, and for how they tired to frame Sam for what happened im Woodsboro.

“Also, Ethan saw you talking to Kirby, so I knew we had to do something sooner rather than later to make you pay.”

“Make us pay?” Sam asks indignantly. “For what?!”

The homemade Stab movie still playing in the background flickers eerily, casting weird shadows over everyone’s face, but especially Bailey’s when it tightens in anger.

He pulls out his gun and waves it around. “For killing my son!”

“Your son?” Tara snaps over my shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s right there.” I gesture at the Ghostface still pressing a knife to Kirby’s neck.

Bailey snorts and the Ghostface next to him takes off his mask.

Quinn.

I knew it, and so did Sam, but Chad and Tara suck in a breath behind me.

Ethan takes off his mask as well, somehow managing to do it without letting go of Kirby.

“Not him!” Quinn snaps with wild eyes before pointing her knife at Sam. “You killed—“

The curly hair, the thick eyebrows. . . E.K. Ethan Kirsch.

“Richie. . .” I say through clenched teeth.

Sam’s hand around my upper arm tightens. “You’re Richie’s family?!”

Tara and Chad shift uncomfortably, but they don’t say a word.

Of course they’re Richie’s family. How did I not see that coming?

They want revenge for what Sam did to him and they started it all by spreading rumors about her online, so when they kill her, kill us, people will just suspect some rando who took matters into his own hands after he found out Sam was the “real” Ghostface.

How fucked up is that. . .

I glance at Kirby while Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn catch the others up on what I just figured out, and nod subtly when her fingers graze against the pocket of her leather jacket.

The radio. . . We need to call for backup. We need to get out of here.

There has to be a second exit we don’t know about because how else would Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn have gotten into the theater unnoticed.

My call with page was disconnected, probably because Bailey turned on some kind of signal jammer, which could mean the radio is also useless, but getting my hands on it and trying to call for back up is worth a try anyway.

I mean, don’t radios and cell phones operate on different frequencies?

All thoughts of frequencies are quickly forgotten when Bailey steps forward and holds out a weathered Ghostface mask.

“This is your father’s, Sam,” he says. “Quinn’s got Stu Macher’s and Ethan has Nacy Loomis’s, your grandmother’s. . .”

“It really runs in your fucking family, doesn’t it,” Ethan pipes up, and the way Sam’s breath hitches next to me makes me want to bash his head in.

This is exactly what she’s afraid of, being like them, and I just know it’s going to take a lot of therapy and a lot of pep talks to make her, once again, believe she really isn’t anything like them

Tara sniffles quietly, and I reach behind me to squeeze her hand when she holds onto the hem of my sweater.

“This is what we’ve been counting down to,” Bailey says, waving the mask around with the same crazy look in his eyes as Quinn. “I’m going to need you to put it on.”

Oh, hell no.

Sam breathes heavily, and for a split second I think she’s going to take it—she’s going to give them what they want after all, but then she lets go of my arm and smacks the mask out of Bailey’s hand.

“Fuck you!” she spits and her confidence fills me with so much pride that I don’t react fast enough when Quinn lunges forward, slicing Sam’s exposed upper arm with her knife.

She was wearing my zip up hoodie earlier, but it’s so hot in here she must have taken it off while on the phone with Mindy, leaving her in only her gray tank top.

Shit, Mindy. . . Why was she calling in the first place? Is she okay?

There’s no way to find out now, so I quickly pull Sam back against me, out of reach of Quinn while she presses a hand to the cut on her arm.

It’s only superficial, but it’s already bleeding pretty badly and it will definitely need stitches.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tara shouts, trying to step out from behind me, but Chad holds her back with an arm around her waist.

“You’re a killer, just like your father, Sam,” Bailey says, pointing an accusing finger at Sam and this time, unlike when Ethan opened his stupid mouth, I don’t hold back.

“No, she’s not you!” I snap, baring my teeth. With her free hand, Sam squeezes my arm around her middle, either to silently thank me for standing up for her or to get me to settle down.

“Yes, she is you motherfucker!” Quinn screams. “She killed Richie like the cold-blooded psycho that she is!”

That’s it!

I let go of Sam and rush forward to tackle Quinn, but Ethan is quick to react. He shoves Kirby aside and jumps in my way before I can get to his sister, stabbing me in the shoulder right below my collar bone—right below the scar on my neck where Amber stabbed me.

“Ah, you fucking little twig,” I exclaim, squaring my shoulders, ready to take him down instead when Sam pulls me back by the back of my sweater.

“No, run!” she shouts and I spin around, knowing she’s right.

Tara and Chad are already weaving through the glass cases, trying to get to the metal door we came in through and Sam and I follow them.

Quinn and Ethan are hot on our heels while Bailey shouts how he knew Sam had to die when he saw the pictures of what she did to Richie.

Everyone who had something to do with his death dies. . . Yeah, no thanks.

Amidst the chaos, the fact that we don’t have the key card to unlock the door dawns on me the moment we’re standing in front of it. Chad tries to pry it open, but it doesn’t budge and when Quinn and Ethan’s footsteps get louder behind us I exclaim, “Forget about it. We’re not getting out this way! There has to be another exit!”

“The roof!” Tara says. “I saw an exit sign leading to the roof behind the seats on the balcony overlooking the stage.”

The roof? Seriously? We’ll be trapped there, too, unless there’s a fire escape.

Anything’s better than this though, I think as Ethan and Quinn skirt around the corner.

“Okay, go left! There’s a staircase up to the balcony!” I shout and we start running again, abandoning the metal door, which could possibly still be our only way out.

Somewhere in the theater a shot gets fired, and I pray to God that Kirby is okay, but I don’t have time to dwell on it as we get to the staircase.

I yank on Sam’s arm and pull her in front of me, and usher her to follow Chad and Tara, but she stops when she notices me freezing on the bottom step.

“What are you doing? Come on!” Urgency seeps into her voice and she tries to drag me up the stairs, but I don’t move.

“No, get to the roof and get help, I’ll buy you some time,” I say, pulling out the knife Kirby gave me.

If Quinn and Ethan want to get to the others, they’ll have to go through me first.

Sam’s eyes widen when they land on the gleaming blade and she shakes her head adamantly. “Fuck no! I’ve left you behind twice now, I’m not doing it again!”

“Sam— I—“ I want to protest, but then Quinn appears with a lazy smile, dragging the blade of her knife along the wall, seemingly in no hurry to get to us any more.

No, no, no. Why’s she so calm. What’s going on?! Where’s Ethan?!

“Y/N!” Sam urges, which snaps me out of my thoughts.

Right. We’ve got to move, no matter how slow Quinn is walking, she’s going to get to us eventually if we don’t move.

“Shit. Yeah, okay! Go, go, go!” I follow Sam up the stairs, taking two of them at a time with my heart pounding in my ears until we get to the top.

Oh damn, we’re higher up than I expected.

It’s at least a ten foot drop from the balcony to the main floor of the theater, but that’s not what I’m worried about.

No, what I’m worried about is Ethan, who’s blocking our path to the roof because he somehow managed to climb the scaffolding connecting the balcony and the main floor to our right.

Tara and Chad are rooted to the ground, staring at him while he simply waves his knife mockingly.

“You really thought you guys could get away?” He laughs and I grab Sam’s hand and spin us around when I hear Quinn coming up the stairs behind us. “Yeah, no. You’re all going to die here tonight and pay for what you did to Richie.”

Tara whimpers and she and Chad take several steps back until their backs are pressed against Sam’s and mine.

The weight of Kirby’s knife in my hand, the one that isn’t holding Sam’s, does nothing to ground me.

We’re caged in and there’s nothing I can do without risking getting hurt because both Ethan and Quinn also have a knife.

“Richie deserved everything he got!” Sam spits next to me. “He was pathetic and killed innocent people just so he could make a new Stab movie! A fucking movie!”

“He loved those movies!” Quinn exclaims angrily and I can’t help but scowl at her.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did! How deluded are you to think that it’s okay to kill people just so you can make a movie?!”

“Shut up!” Ethan shouts and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s absolutely livid right now.

I don’t shut up though. Not only because I can’t stop myself from going on, but because I need to get him to snap and move so we can get to the roof.

“I mean, how fucked up is it that your dad brainwashed you into avenging your brother’s death? He’s a grown ass man and he’s using his kids to do his bidding. Really gets you thinking about who the favorite child is, or was in this case, doesn’t it?”

Quinn’s face contorts into a grimace of rage and I can see both her and Ethan lunging at us from miles away, so I act before they can.

I let go of Sam’s hand and pick up a discarded scaffolding pipe, shoving it into Chad’s hands before turning back around and kicking the side of Quinn’s knee when she comes at us.

She cries out in pain and goes down, and I spin around just in time to see Chad knocking the knife out of Ethan’s hand with the pipe.

“You piece of shit, you know nothing about us!” Ethan shouts, scrambling to pick the knife back up, but Chad is one step ahead of him.

He kicks the knife under the seats before stepping to the side so Tara can knee him in the face, knocking him out.

Yeah, get his ass, Sprout!

Quinn wails furiously and jumps to her feet, her rage obviously numbing the pain in her knee. She tightens the grip she has on her knife and lunges at Sam who raises her arms defensively.

“Oh no you don’t!” I growl, darting forward and catching her wrist mid-strike. I twist it so the knife is now pointing at her and watch in horror as she runs straight into it, stabbing herself in the throat because she can’t stop her advance in time.

Her eyes widen, and she chokes on her own blood for a moment before Sam kicks her in the stomach, forcing her to let go of the knife and fall backward.

She twitches helplessly, coughing and clawing at her own throat for what feels like hours before finally going deathly still.

“Good fucking riddance,” I spit and Sam nods, seemingly in a daze with her eyes trained on Quinn’s dead body until I grab her hand and pull her away. “Let’s go!”

Tara and Chad have already left and I can only hope that they made it to the roof okay. Where Kirby and Bailey are, I have no idea, but the theater’s been deathly quiet since that gunshots I heard earlier.

Please let that have been Kirby shooting Bailey and nod the other way around.

“We need to call for back—“ My words get stuck in my throat when Sam lets out a surprised cry behind me. Her hand lets go of mine and I hear her knife clatter against the ground before I whirl around to see that she’s tripped over something.

No, not something, someone. And that someone is Ethan who’s got his hand wrapped around her ankle.

“Son of a bitch!” Sam seethes and kicks him in the shoulder, which makes him let go of her, but when they both jump to their feet, my heart drops at the sight of him holding the knife she just dropped.

“You’re not going anywhere!” He slashes the knife through the air, missing Sam’s throat by an inch which makes me see red.

I yank Sam behind me, ignoring the way my back stings because of it, and tackle him.

He grunts when we go down and I feel him dragging the knife across my side, but all I can focus on is the sound of Sam’s voice, crying out my name, and the sensation of falling.

Falling, and falling, and falling.

“Y/N!”

I look up and it’s only when I see Sam bent over the railing of the balcony with a bewildered look in her eyes and an outstretched arm that I realize Ethan and I went overt the edge.

No. This was not supposed to happen.

I want to reach out and grab her hand, but it’s too late. I’m falling and before I know it, everything goes black.

I can’t have been out for too long, because when I come to again, everything is quiet.

There’s no shouting, there’s no police and I’m still in the theater, staring up at the blurry outline of the balcony and the dark ceiling.

Sam is nowhere in sight, but when I turn my head I see Ethan right next to me, sprawled on the ground amidst the glass shards of the display case he fell on.

Black dots are dancing in my vision, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I pass out again, but I know for a fact that he’s dead.

His neck is bent at an unnatural angle and his lifeless eyes are staring at me. His lips and chin are covered in blood from when Tara broke his nose with her knee and there are tiny glass shards sticking out of his cheek and forehead.

That’s two for two, I guess. . .

I avert my eyes and go to sit up to find Sam and the others, only to feel my heart drop when I find that I can’t move.

No. Not again.

I try again, willing every muscle in my body to help me sit up, but it doesn’t work.

All I can do is turn my head, and even that is difficult now that I think about it.

It’s like trying to run in a dream, and before I can stop it, a desperate whimper slips past my lips.

Not again. Please, not again.

The memory of Leroy’s face— the firefighter who pulled me out of my parents car after the accident— makes its way to the front of my mind and when I close my eyes I see his sparkling blue eyes above me.

No, not again. Not again. . .

“Y/N!”

My eyes fly open and I look up. Leroy’s blue eyes swim in and out of focus before they’re replaced by dark brown ones.

Sam.

She’s kneeling over me and has her hands on the side of my head.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What did you do?!,” she whispers frantically, her eyes darting between mine.

I go to say something, but she shushes me by pressing a finger against my lips. “Don’t answer that. Save your strength. Just stay awake, okay, keep looking at me.”

I don’t know why’s she’s telling me to stay awake, but then I feel the almost irresistible pull of sleep tugging on my insides.

My eyes flutter, but I can’t in good conscience rest until I know it’s over— until I know that everyone’s okay.

“T-Tara. . . Chad,” I whisper, my eyes momentarily focusing on the pendant of Sam’s necklace. It twinkles in the low light and fills me with an indescribable warmth, knowing that she hasn’t taken the necklace off since I’ve given it to her. It also somehow chases away the panic that threatened to wash over me just a moment ago when I realized I couldn’t move.

“They’re okay,” Sam says, her voice breaking which makes me look at her again. Her eyes are filled with tears and her bottom lip is quivering the same way it did when I collapsed at the hospital a year ago. “They’re both okay. Kirby’s okay, too.”

I exhale shakily and blink back my own tears. “So, it’s over?”

Sam nods, running her thumbs over my cheek. “It is and help is on the way, so try to stay awake, okay? I know you’re tired, and you’re in a lot of pain because you took quite a fall, but you have to stay awake.“

“Quite a fall” feels like an understatement, but I don’t comment on it. I just shake my head and sigh quietly.

“‘M not in pain,” I slur, feeling my consciousness slipping away again.

It’s true, I’m not in pain. I just can’t move, but that’s okay because I know everyone else is okay. They’re all going to be okay, including Gale and Liam.

“What do you mean you’re not in pain? You just fell ten feet! How can you not be in pain?” Sam grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. I can’t feel it, but I see her doing it. I also see her furrowing her eyebrows when my hand stays limp before realization dawns on her.

“Y/N. . .” Tears roll down her face and I want nothing more but to reach up and wipe them away, but I can’t. “You’re— You’re—“

“‘S okay,” I whisper, trying my best to smile. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not, you’re not,” she hiccups and lets go of my hand again to cradle my head and the back of my neck just as my eyes begin to flutter. “Hey, keep your eyes open! You hear me, Y/N?! Keep your eyes open!”

But I’m so tired and she’s here. She’s finally here after everything that’s happened.

“Sam?”

Tara’s voice makes Sam look up and I take that as my chance to close my eyes.

Just for a little bit, I tell myself, but as soon as my eyes close, darkness washes over me.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

They’re all okay.

She’s here.

_______________________________________________

Before you come for me I just want to say that—spoiler alert—we’re going to be okay!

This part was a pain to write, but it’s done and I can rest now.

Only one more part to go!

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[itsnesss]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 | rafe cameron × fem!reader

summary | you confront your former friend, rafe, at a party about his arrogant behavior and how he’s lost the person he used to be. despite his resistance, you see a hint of vulnerability, and you offer him a chance to change

warnings | strong language, emotional confrontation, themes of arrogance and vulnerability, personal growth

word count | 1.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The party is in full swing. The lights flicker above the crowd, creating an atmosphere that feels more like a spectacle than a celebration. And you, though you try to enjoy yourself, can only think of one thing: Rafe. The guy who used to be your friend, the one you shared laughs, secrets, and endless afternoons talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

But today, he's a different person. Today, he's surrounded by his entourage, with that arrogant attitude that doesn't even surprise you, but definitely annoys you. You've been warned, of course. Rafe has changed. And not in a way that you like.

You watch him from the corner of the room. He’s in his element, chatting with everyone, bragging about his conquests, his exaggerated stories. His friends worship him, follow him, laugh at his jokes. But you’re not fooled. You know that underneath all of that, there’s a guy who used to be different. The Rafe you knew was impulsive, sure, but also loyal and genuine. Now he seems to be covered by a layer of arrogance that he can’t even hide.

A moment later, your eyes meet his. The connection is brief, as it always was. But this time it’s different. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that tells you he’s not the same guy anymore. Rafe’s look is no longer that of a friend. It’s that of a stranger.

It’s hard to let it go, but you force yourself to. You don’t want to confront him, not here, not now. However, as you make your way to the bar, he appears beside you, as if he were looking for you. He smiles, but that smile doesn't have the warmth it used to have. It’s arrogant, the same one he wears when he feels in control. And you know that what’s coming next won’t be just a simple hello.

“Hey, princess,” his voice is dripping with sarcasm. He doesn’t even bother to hide it.

You look at him, but you can’t help but feel that there’s something else in his words. Something that makes you uncomfortable. “Don’t call me that,” you respond, letting the tone of your voice be firm. “What are you looking for, Rafe? Why do you act like you're the center of the universe?”

He laughs, but it’s an empty laugh, as if he's trying to convince himself of something. “Come on, seriously? Don’t you see what’s going on here? I’m the guy everyone wants to know. You can’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “But that doesn’t make you the king of anything. It just makes you an idiot. You’re surrounded by people who worship you, but you have no idea who you really are. You’re not the person you were a year ago.”

Rafe doesn’t seem to expect those words. He stops for a second, looking at you. But no, he’s not surprised. He’s pissed off. As always, he responds to criticism with a shield of indifference. “What do you know about me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, the typical challenging look he used to give when something bothered him.

And in that moment, you remember that Rafe you knew, the one who didn’t need to show his power to be respected. The guy who used to share secrets with you, who used to listen to your stories and share his without needing to impress anyone. But that guy seems to be gone. And all that's left now is a grown-up kid with too much pride and too much fear of being vulnerable.

“I know you because I knew you,” you reply, looking him straight in the eye. “I know what you were before all this. What you were when you didn’t have to act like you were better than everyone else. Do you really think all of this makes you more interesting? More happy?”

Rafe steps toward you, and the air between you thickens instantly. The noise of the party seems to fade as you realize the words you’ve just spoken have hit a sensitive spot. For a moment, he stops being the arrogant guy. He’s just staring at you, as if he's remembering something he’s tried to bury.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he says, his tone lower, but filled with a subtle venom. “You don’t know what I’ve had to do to get here. You don’t know anything about what’s happened. So don’t start giving me lectures on who I am, understood?”

And that’s when you understand. It’s no longer just arrogance. It’s not just pride. It’s fear. The fear you have when you realize you’re no longer who you used to be, and you don’t know how to go back.

“I’m not giving you lectures, Rafe,” you say, not looking away. “I’m just telling you the truth. We don’t need you like this. We don’t need a guy who hides behind his ego, or someone who needs to be the center of everything to feel good about themselves. We need the Rafe from before. The one who was real, not the one who’s trying to be someone else.”

Rafe seems to freeze for a second, as if those words have reached him deep down. His anger in his eyes subsides, but it doesn’t go away. “I’m not that guy,” he mutters, his words a broken whisper that surprises you.

“You are, Rafe,” you reply, but your voice is softer now. “You just don’t want to admit it. You’re afraid to be him. You’re afraid no one will accept you for who you really are. But you don’t have to keep up this act. You just need to stop pretending and be yourself.”

A long silence follows. He looks at you, his eyes devoid of the rage he had shown before. You’re about to say something else, but Rafe steps back and sighs.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, in a voice quieter and less certain than you’ve ever heard. “Maybe it’s just that... I’ve lost my way. I don’t know how to find my way back.”

At that moment, you know that, although he won’t admit it, something has changed in him. Maybe not everything, but at least a small part of his pride, that layer he used to cover himself with. And although his facade is still there, you can see a crack. The spark of the person he used to be.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you say, sincerely. “You just need to want to change. And I... I’m still here, if you need me. But I can’t stay if you keep being this version of yourself.”

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, just staring at you, as if trying to process everything you just said. Finally, his face softens a little, though the shadow of his arrogance is still present.

“Maybe one day I’ll get it,” he murmurs, before turning to walk toward the crowd. “But today’s not that day.”

And even though you wish it were, you understand that change doesn’t happen overnight. Rafe is lost, but maybe, just maybe, this conversation was the first step to finding his way back. And for now, that’s enough.

[charmedimsure]

Warmth || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Dae-ho drags you outside to enjoy the snow

word count: 1.5k

warnings: just fluff :)

A/N: i put up a post saying i needed requests and then instantly thought of this and wrote it in like 3 hours. i got some good requests though so those will be out at some point. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

You groan as your doorbell is rung again. Wrapping your warm blanket around yourself, you trudge over to the door, pulling it open to glare at whoever is disturbing your lazy day.

You're met with the face of your friend Dae-ho, the usual bright smile lighting up his face. He's all bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf, a warm hat covering his head. It would've warmed your heart had you not been hoping to avoid contact of any type with the entirety of humankind today.

"Hey, Love!" he beams at you.

"What do you want?" you grumble.

He chuckles, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "It's so beautiful outside today! I thought we could spend some time outside."

You cock an eyebrow at him. "You know there's at least a foot of snow out there, right?"

He nods enthusiastically.

You sigh. "Dae-ho..."

"Before you say no," he cuts you off, "just come out with me for a little while. We'll go to the park around the corner. If you hate it we'll come right back."

You bite your lip as you weigh the options. On the one hand, you get cold very quickly. On the other hand, you've never been able to say no to Dae-ho. "Fine."

Dae-ho cheers, making you chuckle.

Thirty minutes later you arrive at the park. You changed into your thickest pair of jeans, put on your fuzziest socks, and slipped into your puffiest coat. You turn to face Dae-ho. "Okay, we're here. What do you want to do?"

"Well, we obviously have to build a snowman," he says matter-of-factly.

You chuckle. "Of course, how naïve of me to think otherwise."

Dae-ho works on making the first snowball for the base while you roll the balls for the middle and the head. As you're rolling the middle piece near where Dae-ho is, you let out a laugh when you see the massive snowball in front of him. "Dae-ho, that thing's huge!"

He just smiles over his shoulder at you. "Well you took too long, Love."

You chuckle, crouching down to put your arms around your snowball. You try to lift it, but it barely budges from the ground.

"Do you need help with that?"

"No!" you shout. You try a few more times before giving up with a sigh. "Yes."

Dae-ho laughs, walking over and picking up the snowball like it weighs nothing, plopping it perfectly in the center of the base.

"Show off," you grumble at him, making him chuckle. You go back to pick up the head, bringing it over and carefully placing it on top of the snowman. "Do you have anything for it's face?"

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few acorns. "I found these over by the trees." He sticks them into the snowman's head, making two eyes and a smiling mouth.

You run over and grab two sticks, sticking them in the middle to be the arms. Dae-ho takes off his hat, putting it on top of the snowman.

You both step back to admire your work.

"I gotta say," you speak up, "this is probably the best snowman I've ever built." You point to the base. "Definitely the one with the biggest ass."

"What should we name him?" Dae-ho asks.

"Dae-ho."

"What?" he asks.

You chuckle. "No, I mean we should name him Dae-ho. He is wearing your hat."

He laughs, walking over to stand next to the snowman. "Do we really look that much alike?"

You look between him and the snowman. "Wait, which one's the real Dae-ho?"

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at yourself.

"I'm just kidding," you say. "Of course I know you're the real Dae-ho. Your ass is bigger than his."

Dae-ho's eyes widen as you laugh. "Oh, you're in for it." He scoops up a mound of snow.

You run away, unable to stop the laughs that are escaping you as Dae-ho chases you through the park.

You squeal as an arm wraps around you, pulling your back flush against Dae-ho's chest. You turn your head to look up at him. "Dae-ho, no!"

"Sorry, Love, but you asked for it," he smiles. He pulls at the back of your coat, shoving the snow down your back. You let out a scream as the cold sensation envelops your body.

You quickly bend down and pick up a handful of snow, throwing it in Dae-ho's face as he's still laughing at you.

Before he can do anything, you push him backwards, making him fall back into the snow. On his way down, he's able to grab the front of your coat, bringing you right down on top of him with an 'oof'.

You look at him, both of you falling into a fit of laugher at the state you're in.

"Get off of me," Dae-ho whines.

You wrap your arms around him. "No, you're so warm," you say, snuggling into him. "You're like a furnace."

Instead of him pushing you into the snow like you expect, he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"Thank you for coming out with me, Love," he says.

"Thank you for forcing me outside," you return. "I'm actually having a really good time."

"Well you're with me, so of course you're having a good time," he says, rubbing your back.

You chuckle, pulling your head away to look at him. "That's true."

You both spend the next few moments looking at each other, smiling like madmen.

"Are you cold?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "How could I be cold when you make me feel so warm inside."

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off of him. "Oh, shut up."

He laughs as you stand up, brushing the snow off of you. You look down and see a familiar piece of clothing.

"Oh crap, my hat fell off." You pick it up, attempting to put it on your head but the gloves you're wearing make it nearly impossible. You grunt. "Stupid gloves."

"I got it," Dae-ho says, standing up and taking off his own gloves. You hand the hat to him and he pulls it over your head. You smile at the warmth it provides, but your smile falls as Dae-ho yanks the hat down to cover the majority of your face.

"Damnit, Dae-ho!" you yell, hearing the man laughing in front of you.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist," he says, taking the bottom of the hat and folding it over so you can see again.

"You're so mean to me," you complain. "I'm nothing but a perfect angel and you just bully me."

"Says the girl who pushed me in the snow!" Dae-ho scoffs, a smile lighting up his face.

"You deserved it!" you defend, a small laugh laced into your words.

"You're just upset that I'm prettier than you," he shrugs.

"The girl is always better looking than the guy," you state.

He smirks. "So we're together now, huh?"

You hiss. "I was referring to me and the other Dae-ho," you say, pointing to the snowman.

Dae-ho pulls back with an offended look on his face that almost makes you burst out laughing. "Him over me?!"

"What can I say, he's a great kisser," you say.

Dae-ho takes a small step closer to you. "Bet I'm better."

You try to ignore the way your heart is pounding as he gets closer. "Alright, let's make a bet. If snowman Dae-ho is a better kisser, you have to make me hot chocolate when we get back to my place."

"If I'm the better kisser, you have to make me hot chocolate and lay with me on your couch while we watch a movie. My choice, of course."

You chuckle. He sticks his hand out. "Do we have a deal?"

You nod, shaking his hand. "We have a deal."

You move to pull your hand away but Dae-ho tightens his grip, pulling you toward him. He brings his other hand to your jaw, angling your head so he can place his lips directly onto yours.

You close your eyes, smiling against his lips as a warmth spreads through you. Your lips move in sync, fitting perfectly against each other as your arms wrap around his neck, trying to pull him even closer.

You feel him smile against you as he wraps an arm around your waist, tilting you back to kiss you even deeper. He pulls away, pressing one last kiss to your lips before fully pulling back.

"So," he says. "Who's better."

You suck in a breath through your teeth. "I don't know, it's a tough decision."

Dae-ho rolls his eyes, making you laugh. You grab onto his scarf and pull him down to you, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Come on, big guy, I'll go make us some hot chocolate."

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