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lindyloosims · 1 month ago

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Non Sims Issue:

This is something that has bothered me for a few years and it's really taking a toll on my mental health!

So...(warning, very long rant under the cut)

Question: Am I an asshole?

I live in a semi-detached bungalow with my own private garden. I used to live in a block of four flats (they used to be one big house) and we shared a communal garden area (with a washing line) and we each had our own private garden too, a small square surrounded by hedge. This will become relevant later. The house attached to where I live now has a little boy living there and here is where my story begins.

When I first moved in, said boy would have been around 5 years old. I didn't really get out into the garden much as at the time I was nursing my terminally ill mother and was in her room with her practically 24/7. After she died, the pandemic hit the following year and I was in limbo mode wandering around like a zombie, I was grieving. During the pandemic, a huge trampoline was put up right against the wall that divides our properties, and directly outside my bedroom window. At first it didn't bother me, but this was the year that I was writing my book and I was lying on top of my bed with the sun shining in on a lovely warm summer day typing on my laptop, when I am aware of a little head bobbing up and down outside, in the trampoline, waving and saying hello. I thought, oh well he's a kid, nevermind, but then I was doing the same thing another summer's day when I heard a scream and thought someone may have hurt themselves, so I move my head over to look out the window and I'm met with his mother's eyes as she's jumping on the trampoline with him (so she knows exactly what is what, she knows that is my bedroom). Now, after that I have kept my curtains permanently closed and I have my light on permanently too as they are blackout curtains. So you could say it's a tad inconvenient, have I said anything? No, because I have had my fair share of neighbourly disputes and I have decided to live and let live, even though they have no regard for my privacy.

Fast forward to last year when I got Bonnie, she is 14 weeks old and completely untrained (toilet and everything) so I'm trying to acclimatise her into living in a house as she had lived in a kennel all of her life beforehand. The little boy is in his trampoline, his mother opens the upstairs window to shout something down to him, notices puppy Bonnie and yells "OH HAVE YOU GOT A NEW DOG???" and I feel it's only polite to engage in discourse with her, tell her all about the puppy and her name etc. So that's fine, right? Well a couple of days later she steps on something in her garden that allows her to look over the 6ft+ wall and declares "Can we meet Bonnie, sometime in the week as we have a gift for her and (little boy) would love to pet her?" So I say why not, no harm in that. Except every day after that he's constantly interrogating me from his trampoline "When can I meet Bonnie? When can I meet Bonnie?" until one day I give up and tell him to meet me in the front street as I'm taking her for a walk. So he and his mother come out and meet her, present her with a gift, I say thank you that is very kind and we go our separate ways. Every time I take Bonnie out into the garden (bearing in mind she is not fully toilet trained and is still having the odd accident in the house) he's on his trampoline yelling "HI BONNIE!" so there's no chance of her paying any attention to me or my training, she's too busy (at 3 months old) trying to scale a 6ft+ wall to get to the little boy. This happened regularly and it has caused a lasting impact on how she behaves as an adolescent dog. He even would tell his friends "That's Bonnie!" and every time I was outside walking her, he and his mother would introduce her to their friends, it was like she was something to share and not my pet. But still I kept my mouth shut, trying to keep the peace. I met little boy and a friend outside his house one day and he was petting Bonnie, then he yelled "Ow, she bit me!" with no mark on his finger, no blood, so that was when I decided to avoid him and never allow Bonnie within 5ft of him. Puppies nip, and that was all she did, she did not bite!!! She has NEVER bitten ANYONE!!!

So now little boy is 10 years old, he has a blond friend who comes over on a regular basis and little boy now has the biggest goal post you've ever seen to go along with the biggest trampoline. He and his friend play football and scream a lot, which kids do and I accept that. I must mention also that at the bottom of the garden there is a grandchild of the residents who plays football down there, there are two children on the right hand side (little boy is on my left) who play football also. Now the reason I am telling you this is because I rarely get footballs coming over the wall from either of them, when I do the boy next door on the right comes to the door, apologises and asks for his ball back, I get a huge thank you over the wall when I send it back too. Little boy and blond friend, despite having the hugest goal post known to man, kick over not one...not two...not three...but FOUR FUCKING BALLS in succession into my garden every time they're out there! They also jump around on the trampoline and throw balls around which land over on my side and sometimes hit my bedroom window. One day I opened my back door to screaming "EXCUSE ME-EXCUSE ME!!!" now I have social anxiety, so I shut the door and hid in my kitchen for a moment as it frightened me. You do not expect that in a private garden! So I composed myself, opened the door and noticed a ball, so I threw it over at them, not even a thank you! Three more balls came over that day!

Fast forward to today, I hear them outside playing and I anticipate going outside later to put out my bin and find at least four balls out there as usual. But I hear a bang on my window, so with pure adrenaline and rage, I march outside and say "Excuse me, that hit my window!" to which little boy says sorry. I tell them I am going to get shoes and they can have the ball back, so as I throw it over I say "Please be more careful!" and go inside, no thank you AGAIN! No sorry from the little blond shit that my dad is convinced is a bad influence and is throwing the balls over on purpose. When they are on the trampoline they can see right over into my garden and into my kitchen, so my blind is now permanently down like my bedroom curtains. Here's a photo of the layout for reference from said kitchen window, please excuse my iPad in the photo and the kitchen blind, I had to sneak as they are outside right now! I've marked where the trampoline is and where my bedroom is, also little stars to indicate where their heads usually are...STARING AT ME!!!

I have to say, I had more privacy living in a communal building than I do in my own private home, hence the reason I explained my previous living situation! It's really upsetting me and I dread stepping into my own garden!

So if you had the strength and the patience to read all that, I just want to know, am I an unreasonable asshole? Or are my feelings valid?

#nonsims non sims #it's quite a read #but I am going through hell #very stressed out #tw death #tw illness

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nervosims · 1 year ago

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bonny bungalow 🏠🌸 maxis makeover

required sets: bespoke build set, miasmata garden

download

sfs || mediafire

watch the speed build here

thanks to all the cc creators!

#sims 2 speedbuild #sims 2 speed build #nervo.mp4 #ts2 #sims 2 build #sims 2 #the sims 2 #c://downloads

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carleyplays · 5 months ago

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With graduation behind her, Bonnie's world opened up to new possibilities. As the summer stretched ahead and her eighteenth birthday loomed, Daisy and Don, saw this as the perfect opportunity to let her spread her wings. After much discussion and planning, they agreed to let Bonnie embark on a solo vacation to Sulani.

Excitement bubbled within Bonnie as she packed her bags, carefully selecting swimsuits, sunscreen, and a journal to capture her adventures.

Arriving in Sulani, Bonnie was greeted by the warm breeze, the scent of tropical flowers, and the welcoming smiles of locals. She settled into a cozy beachside bungalow, where the sound of waves lulled her to sleep each night. Days were spent snorkeling among colorful fish, lounging on sandy shores, and learning about the island's rich culture from friendly villagers.

In the evenings, Bonnie would sit on her bungalow's veranda, writing in her journal as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. She felt a sense of independence and gratitude, knowing her parents trusted her to navigate this experience on her own.

#sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 cc #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 custom content #the sims community #sims 4 #simblr #the sims #sims #sims in bloom #sibg2 #my sims #the sims 4 #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #showusyoursims

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extrabeurre · 1 year ago

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Gala Québec Cinéma 2023: les nominations

Animé par Jay Du Temple, le 25e Gala Québec Cinéma sera diffusé le dimanche 10 décembre prochain à 20h sur les ondes de Noovo et Noovo.ca, en direct des studios Grandé de Montréal. Le Gala Artisans, animé par Fabiola Nyrva Aladin, aura lieu le 7 décembre à 19h30 au Studio TD.

Voici la liste complète des nominations:

IRIS HOMMAGE Rémy Girard

MEILLEUR FILM Arsenault et Fils | La maison de prod — Stéphanie Morissette, Charles Stéphane Roy Babysitter | Amérique Film — Martin Paul-Hus, Catherine Léger ; Phase 4 Productions — Pierre-Marcel Blanchot, Fabrice Lambot Falcon Lake | Metafilms — Nancy Grant, Sylvain Corbeil ; Onzecinq — Dany Boon, Jalil Lespert ; Cinéfrance Studios — Julien Deris, David Gauquié, Jean-Luc Ormières Le plongeur | Sphère Média — Marie-Claude Poulin Les chambres rouges | Némésis Films — Dominique Dussault Noémie dit oui | Productions Leitmotiv — Patricia Bergeron Viking | micro_scope — Luc Déry, Kim McCraw

MEILLEUR PREMIER FILM

MEILLEURE DISTRIBUTION DES RÔLES Nathalie Boutrie — Nathalie Boutrie Casting | Arsenault et Fils Marilou Richer — Marilou Richer Casting | Les chambres rouges Lucie Robitaille, Dandy Thibaudeau — Casting Lucie Robitaille | Viking Annie St-Pierre, Antoinette Boulat | Babysitter Brigitte Viau — Casting Brigitte Viau | Le plongeur MEILLEURE DIRECTION ARTISTIQUE André-Line Beauparlant | Viking Sylvie Desmarais| Bungalow Mathieu Lemay | Le plongeur Laura Nhem | Les chambres rouges Colombe Raby | Babysitter

MEILLEURS EFFETS VISUELS Marc Hall — A.A. Studios | Babysitter Marc Hall — A.A. Studios, Alex GD — RGB124 | Farador Marc Hall — A.A. Studios | La cordonnière Marie-Claude Lafontaine, Simon Beaupré — Alchimie 24 | Viking Mathilde Vézina-Bouchard | Mistral spatial

MEILLEUR SON Sylvain Bellemare, Bernard Gariépy Strobl, Pierre Bertrand | Viking Olivier Calvert, Stéphane Bergeron, Martyne Morin | Les chambres rouges Olivier Calvert, Luc Boudrias, Yann Cleary | Le plongeur Stephen De Oliveira, Séverin Favriau, Stéphane Thi��baut | Falcon Lake Daniel Fontaine-Bégin, Luc Boudrias, Henry Jr Godding | Arsenault et Fils

MEILLEUR FILM DOCUMENTAIRE Dear Audrey | Réalisation : Jeremiah Hayes | Scénario : Jeremiah Hayes | Office national du film du Canada — Jeremiah Hayes, André Barro, Annette Clarke Gabor | Réalisation : Joannie Lafrenière | Scénario : Joannie Lafrenière | Tak films — Line Sander Egede Geographies of Solitude | Réalisation : Jacquelyn Mills | Scénario : Jacquelyn Mills | Rosalie Chicoine Perreault, Jacquelyn Mills Je vous salue salope : la misogynie au temps du numérique | Réalisation : Léa Clermont-Dion, Guylaine Maroist | Scénario : Léa Clermont-Dion, Guylaine Maroist | La Ruelle Films — Eric Ruel, Guylaine Maroist Rojek | Réalisation : Zaynê Akyol | Scénario : Zaynê Akyol | Metafilms — Sylvain Corbeil, Audrey-Ann Dupuis-Pierre ; Zaynê Akyol

MEILLEURE DIRECTION DE LA PHOTOGRAPHIE | FILM DOCUMENTAIRE Geoffroy Beauchemin | Humus Nicolas Canniccioni, Arshia Shakiba | Rojek Joannie Lafrenière | Gabor Jacquelyn Mills | Geographies of Solitude Maude Plante-Husaruk | Au-delà des hautes vallées MEILLEUR SON | FILM DOCUMENTAIRE Mélanie Gauthier, Jeremiah Hayes, Isabelle Lussier | Dear Audrey Maxime Lacoste-Lebuis, Eric Shaw, Jean Paul Vialard | Au-delà des hautes vallées Andreas Mendritzki, Jacquelyn Mills | Geographies of Solitude Jean-François Sauvé, Martin M. Messier, Bruno Pucella | 305 Bellechasse Catherine Van Der Donckt, Jean Paul Vialard | Au-delà du papier

FILM S’ÉTANT LE PLUS ILLUSTRÉ À L’EXTÉRIEUR DU QUÉBEC Cette maison | Embuscade Films — Félix Dufour-Laperrière | Réalisation : Miryam Charles | Scénario : Miryam Charles | La Distributrice de films — Serge Abiaad Dounia et la princesse d’Alep | Tobo — Judith Beauregard | Réalisation : Marya Zarif, André Kadi | Scénario : Marya Zarif | Maison 4:3 — Chantale Pagé Falcon Lake| Metafilms — Nancy Grant, Sylvain Corbeil ; Onzecinq — Dany Boon, Jalil Lespert ; Cinéfrance Studios — Julien Deris, David Gauquié, Jean-Luc Ormières | Réalisation : Charlotte Le Bon | Scénario : Charlotte Le Bon | Sphère Films — Ariane Giroux-Dallaire Katak le brave béluga | 10e Ave Productions — Nancy Florence Savard | Réalisation : Christine Dallaire- Dupont, Nicola Lemay | Scénario : Andrée Lambert | Attraction Distribution — Xiaojuan Zhou, Maison 4:3 — Chantale Pagé Viking | micro_scope — Luc Déry, Kim McCraw | Réalisation : Stéphane Lafleur | Scénario : Stéphane Lafleur, Eric K. Boulianne | Les Films Opale — Christian Larouche, Sébastien Létourneau

#gala québec cinéma

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bbbcnnie · 2 years ago

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ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿ' ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿ' ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵐᵐᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡ !

ᵇᵒⁿⁿⁱᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵍˡᵒʳⁱᵃ ᵐᵃʳʸ ᶜᵃʳˢᵒⁿ

BONNIE CARSON? out here on the road, they have a reputation of being CUNNING + HUMOROUS but also RECKLESS + EASILY AGITATED, no wonder they’re called BONNIE. according to local legend, they’re 30 and when they pull up to camp not a soul can mistake the sound of GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY – CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL following them. some say they carry A FADED, YELLOWED PICTURE OF HER CHILDHOOD CAT; A PIECE OF RED STRING TIED AROUND HER FINGER THAT SERVES AS A MAKESHIFT WEDDING BAND; HER NAN’S PRAYER BOOK; EVERY RAY CHARLES TAPE SHE COULD FIND IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT and have been traveling with THE CON JOBS. ( soph ! )

pinterest - spotify

CUE: ‘Our Father’ – The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi

A run-down bungalow-like shack, that probably used to be a farmhouse of some kind before big corporate came to town and robbed everyone of their land. Plaster’s coming off the wall, slowly but surely, but it’ll be another couple months before it gets damp and cold and someone’s actually gotta do something about that, so it’s ignored for now. The deep south, the 1950’s, in the midst of stifling heat, that’s where Constance Gloria Mary Carson is born, to mixed feelings – her father rejoices, a girl! Just what he wanted. Her mother only sighs and slumps back into the pillows. A girl, harder to get out of the house and working than a boy. Maybe she’ll be lucky again the next time ‘round.

Rolling Fork, Mississippi may have be a literal hellhole in every aspect of the word when looking back on it now, but from 1955 to 1960, the vast wasteland her father lovingly called their ‘backyard’ had been nothing short of an adventurous playground for little Connie May. Running around the place while momma shook her head and daddy read his paper, swinging by the tracks to watch the trains roll in and out every day, try and chase them for a bit until your lungs were burning and you were forced to stop, skip back home for a bland, in no way nutritious dinner. With a population of barely 1,300 , there was not much else to do. Perfect place to grow up, huh?

Soon enough, the Carsons turned from a family of four to a family of seven, and once deemed old enough – ‘She’s five, Jerry, for Heaven’s sake, she’ll manage watching’ the little ones, calm your horses’ – Connie May’s childhood abruptly stopped as she instead assumed the role of primary caregiver for her three younger siblings. Mom and Pop had to work all day, every day, with the paint peeling off the walls and the floorboards disintegrating underfoot, they had no other choice. In the neighbourhood, though, there are people who’ve got it worse, and the Carson’s are a pious family, so Connie May doesn’t even think about being unthankful for the little they have. Because they could have even less – when little Connie thinks about that too much her lips begin to quiver and her eyes grow awfully hot, a stinging pain underneath her lids as she tries to blink away her tears. Her mother had once reported, complained, nearly, to Mrs. Johnson from too houses down that Connie May was ‘a sickly little creature blessed – or cursed – with empathy’.

CUE: ‘Oh Happy Day’ – The Edwin Hawkins Singers

From the get-go, Connie May just … knows she’s different. She can feel it. It causes trouble from the moment she starts to talk. She’s an opinionated little girl, never shy to speak her mind. Because when the Swinging Sixties roll around, as Connie grows older and wiser, it gets increasingly harder and then, one day, impossible to ignore the inevitable. Rolling Fork was a death sentence. You’re born here, you procreate here, you die here. Simple as that. As your fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers have done before you. Get married off to the highest bidders, have a couple kids – or a couple dozen – and care for them while your slob of a husband goes to work at his shitty job that has him earning just enough so you’re just poor, not dirt poor.

Everyone around her, neighbours, classmates, they just .. .accept their situation. No, they are content with it. Content with knowing there’ll be no space for surprises, for action and adventure and all the fun stuff Connie May reads about in the novels she secretly slips from the library. That the furthest they’re ever getting from here is Louisville, if they’re lucky. It’s infuriating. It’s making her lose her mind.

The only escape from insanity is every other Sunday, when Momma and Daddy have to work and Mr. and Mrs. Dowall from next door take them to church. And heavens, does Bonnie love church. Not their regular church! Oh no, that’s just a stuffy little room, full of the same snot nosed kids she sits next to at school, who pull her hair and call her ‘nanny’ because she can’t join them at the county fair, has to watch her siblings instead. No, no, the Dowall church is different. The service there is the most exciting part of Connie May’s week. There’s always laughter and singing, gospel and worship in the way that she can get behind. A few weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Dowall, with Momma’s approval, gift her two of their old records.

There are few fond memories of home, but one of them is dancing around the living room to ‘I Got A Woman’ and ‘Strange Things Happening Everyday’, standing on her father’s feet.

CUE: ‘Jesus Is Just Alright With Me’ – The Doobie Brothers

Connie May turns 17 in 1972, and by that time she’s got 2 friends, excluding her three younger siblings. Obviously excluding them, whatever connection she’s had to them has faded ever since their mother had begun to use Connie as a prime example for a person that had failed in life. Because her brother Robert had married his high school sweetheart the second they’d both turned 18, and he’d moved out a day after the wedding. They’re just … kids to her now. They’re getting older, too. They all take after her mother. It makes Connie sad, her dad, too, she sees it in the way he scratches his beard as if he’s lost in thought when, really, he’s tragically melancholic. Connie often wonders for how long her parents have been unhappy for.

Well, the ‘swinging sixties’ have come and gone, and so have the Dowell’s from next door and the fun services. Not dead, oh no, they just moved to live with their daughter and grandchildren, down in California. Good for them. Connie’s left, and she’s using the music they’ve gifted her to rebel against fucking everything in this god forsaken town. Tommy, Misha and her listen to records their parents don’t allow them to listen to because it’s ‘filthy, ungodly music’ in secret. Somehow, Connie May managed to convince her Momma that The Doobie Brothers were a nice, Christian rock n’ roll band. Maybe she’d had a gift for the odd con job ever since the beginning, huh?

CUE: ‘The Wild One’- Suzi Quatro

It takes another five fucking years for her life to finally change. In the year of our Lord, 1977, a dishevelled looking young woman with a million dollar smile rolls into town and Connie can only think of divine intervention as the cause of this … this miracle. Freshly twenty two, she’s already a burden to her parents – and reminded of that fact daily, thanks Momma! – and wants nothing more than to get out but there’s no way to escape. No loophole. Until, enter stage left, Tatiana appears. And changes her life for fucking ever,

First by changing her name. A simple mishearing turns Connie May into BONNIE and it just sticks. She sticks with it. She’s a new person and ready to embrace it.

Everything about Tatiana draws her in, and it is quite possible that the other woman is the coolest fucking person Bonnie has ever met. She’s so … god! She’s so everything that Rolling Fork is not, everything that Bonnie wants to be. She’s funny and nice, in her own way. She’s the most beautiful woman Bonnie has ever laid eyes upon. She’s dangerous and Bonnie craves the thrill of the unknown more than oxygen.

It's a quick and easy decision when Tatiana fina-fucking-lly invited her to join her on the road, live a life of adventure. In the dark of the night, Bonnie stuffs only the most important of her belongings into a duffel bag, leaves a note for her father telling him she’s safe and happy, and expressing her hope that he, too, may find happiness again, and then jumps into the passenger seat, laughing manically. Ready to leave her old life behind.

She doesn’t even glance in the rearview mirror when the pull out of the driveway.

However, Bonnie does lean out of the window as far as she can as they pass the sign that, in ugly faded letters, says: “You’re now leaving Rolling Fork! May God bless you and come again soon!” A fair bit of it was left covered in her spit.

CUE: ‘Whole Lotta Love’ – Led Zeppelin

Bonnie adjusts to life on the road fucking awfully at first but hey, she’s got much to learn and Tatiana is the best teacher one could’ve asked for. Bonnie might be naïve but she’s more than ready and willing to thrust herself into this life of crime. A little confused but she’s got the spirit! Most times her job’s simply to wait at the side of the road and look pretty and then pump the fucking gas when she goes from distraction to getaway driver. It’s turbulent, everything moving so fucking fast, but Bonnie has never felt so alive.

And so they make their way through the States, got a little routine going of sorts. Until one day, when they turn from Thelma and Louis to Bonnie and Clyde.

Usually, Bonnie’s got this thing where she puts on Creedence when they do their jobs, pull their stunts. This time, she goes for Led Zeppelin. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unfamiliar that causes the adrenaline to pump through her veins even faster, until suddenly, she finds herself standing behind some security guards who’d been about to corner and overpower Tatiana – she’s standing behind them and she’s got a gun pressed to one’s back while she’s got one of her boots pressed to the other’s neck. The guards let them go, they speed off, and once it’s safe enough, Bonnie pulls to the side of the road to yank Tatiana forward by her shirt. And, well, the rest is history. The rest is foggy windows and giggles and a drive to some poor pastor’s church who they bribe into giving them a marriage license, a fucking official one.

Next time they pull into the summit they’re fucking married. Spontaneous decisions had always been their forte.

CUE: ‘Blue Highway’ – Billy Idol

1985. It’s been some long years on the road since Rolling Fork. Hectic and dangerous and thrilling and just all in all fucking delightful. Even eight years down the line, Bonnie can’t find it within herself to regret the decisions that had brought her here, back to the summit, in their trusty old RV, her wife by her side. She fucking loves it, all of it. She loves Tatiana. Maybe not in the most conventional of ways for a married couple but she does, she loves her. Even if this open relationship typa situation they got on their hands isn’t her piece of cake – who’s she to complain? She might not be a godly woman anymore but she’s the same little Connie May that couldn’t bring herself to be unthankful for everything she had.

Hell, Bonnie even finds herself growing more fond of the other Con Jobs they picked up along the way. Even if she gets into fights with Wally over his choice of music every other day, even if Alfie and Wally do a god awful job of sneaking around every fucking night. She’s never wanted to be a mother or any of that shit, having spent her formative years as the sole caregiver of three little kids meant she had quite enough of kids for now.

But, then again, having cared for her siblings all these years had left its mark, and though she tries to hide it, Bonnie can’ t help but care when there’s a lost soul that needs her help. ‘Cursed with empathy’. At least you got that one right, Momma.

One rule has never waivered these past years on the road: Nobody touches the goddamn radio. Bonnie’s got full control over it. Even if she wants to take a trip down memory lane and listen to Sister Rosetta sing her best gospel hymns. Even if she wants to indulge her inner child with Madonna and Whitney’s latest hits. Everyone just has to sit and endure. So – Hands off!

#&&. intro #finally

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kiss-my-freckle · 9 months ago

Note

– Mystic Falls Home for Immolated Wiccans –

Bonnie Bennet: Hi guys! Welcome to the rest of Season Three of The Vampire Diaries! I’ll be your host tonight, and lead you on a grand tour of this burned out old mortuary, complete with a bevy of immortal murder machine bearing coffins! And hey, is Klaus holding on to the Magic Necklace of Certain Doom?

– Bennet Bungalow –

Bonnie Bennet: Okay, that’s the last time I eat pepperoni pizza before bed.

– Mystic Falls – Streets of Slayer Sprints –

Elena Gilbert: Super Elena slayer training early morning run powers activate!

A Creepy Ass Guy in an Evil Hoodie: Hi Elena! I’ll be your stalker this morning!

Elena Gilbert: Super Elena running like a scared little bunny powers activate!

A Creepy Ass Guy in an Evil Hoodie: Just kidding! I’m your totally normal neighbor who you just haven’t met yet, despite living in this neighborhood for the last four years.

– Mystic Grill – Improbable Incredulity –

Elena Gilbert: I fell like I’m going insane! I was totally wigged out by this guy, just because he was dressed all in black and had a mean look on his face and was running right at me! And then the mailman came and said “package for Miss Gilbert” but I thought he said “I practiced this and it’s gonna hurt” so I shot him with Alaric’s stake gun! And then the guy at Starbucks asked “cream and sugar?” but I thought he said “chaos and murder?” so I blew him up with an anti-werewolf grenade!

Bonnie Bennet: You think you’re nuts? I’ve been having bad dreams!

Elena Gilbert: …

Bonnie Bennet: The same bad dream over and over, where I’m in the Home for Immolated Wiccans, and it’s filled with coffins, and Klaus is in one, and he’s holding the Magic Necklace of Certain Doom, and that’s really scary for some reason, and then I wake up!

Elena Gilbert: Hey, maybe the fact that you’re having the same dream over and over again, about a very mystical spot and your very magical nemesis, is some kind of witchy prophetic dream type thingie!

Bonnie Bennet: …Nah, that’s a bit too unbelievable for me.

Elena Gilbert: Yeah, you’re right, it’s way more likely that a dead vampire came back from the grave after your bring my boyfriend back to life spell rent the veil between worlds and then she planted that dream in your head because she lost her earrings and she can’t rest until you find them for her.

Bonnie Bennet: Right?

– Mystic Falls – Bonding, Boozing, and Bromance –

Damon Salvatore: Hi Alaric! I have assembled a collection of fifteen different kinds of alcohols, each of them specifically chosen to bunt the emotional effects of being literally stabbed in the back by your beloved brother! And since it’s eleven AM, I assume it’s time for you to start drinking!

Alaric Saltzman: Not now, Damon! Can’t you see I’m grading papers in a bar?

Not Now Dana: Hey, that’s my line!

Damon Salvatore: Come on Alaric! If I drink all of this by myself, I’m going to take my clothes off!

Expendable Waitress #142: Drink! Drink! Drink!

Damon Salvatore: And it would be way more fun if we both took our clothes off!

Team Dalaric: Drink! Drink! Drink!

Alaric Saltzman: Not now, Damon! I have to set up a subplot about Jeremy’s return to Emotown!

– The Lost Woods – Exposition Arrows –

Jeremy Gilbert: So what are we doing out here?

Tyler Lockwood: Re-establishing some basic facts, like the fact that I’m a werepire, and that I can only be killed if you cut out my heart or cut off my head, and that I was dating Caroline and you were dating Bonnie, and that Mystic Falls either has very lenient adoption laws or Alaric is your completely illegal guardian, and that I’m Klaus’ bitch, and that I can snatch arrows out of the air.

Jeremy Gilbert: Okay, so I should like shoot you now, right?

Tyler Lockwood: …Yes.

– Mystic Grill – Klaus-Shaped Confrontation –

Elena Gilbert: Hi Damon! I’m worried about Jeremy! He’s moody and sullen and listless and directionless and unmotivated and unwashed and uncouth and he’s a pot head and a beer swiller and a truant!

Damon Salvatore: You could have saved a lot of syllables by just saying “he’s sixteen.”

Elena Gilbert: But he’s also been orphaned by a plot device and romanced by a vampire and murdered by the sheriff and brought back to life by his girlfriend and haunted haunted by his exes!

Damon Salvatore: Okay, “sixteen year old in Mystic Falls.” There’s a support group for that. It meets in the cemetery, where they’re all reminded to shut up and be thankful for being one of the dozens of people that I have personally murdered since I came back to town, let alone the rest of the traveling homicides that come through here.

Elena Gilbert: Also you broke his neck.

Damon Salvatore: I am never going to live that down, am I?

Elena Gilbert: Nope! Also, you’re day drunk! That’s not attractive!

Damon Salvatore: Oh yeah? What is attractive?

Team Delena: Naked naked naked!

Klaus: Hi guys! This is Tony, who you might know as “that creepy sonofabitch that was stalking Elena this morning!” Also, I would like to know the location of my sister and Stefan and my family, and if you don’t help me find all of those things I’m going to murder things until you beg me to accept your humble offers of information and scones. Seriously, I haven’t had a scone in centuries.

The Lady of the Manor: Klaus and Damon should have a foosball battle to the death.

– Mystic Falls Home for Immolated Wiccans –

Bonnie Bennet: I know how to get to the bottom of these weird dreams! I’ll wander into the house that’s haunted by immensely powerful spirits who are personally angry at me for upsetting the balance of nature, making sure not to tell anyone where I am and also leaving my cell phone in Nebraska!

Stefan Salvatore: Hi Bonnie! Just wanted to let you know that I stole all of Klaus’ semi-dead relatives, and that he’s probably going to deal with his anger by murdering everyone I’ve ever talked to. I’ve already told the guy at Burger Hut to leave town, but I figured you might want to know, too.

Bonnie Bennet: …

Stefan Salvatore: Also, do you know any good “hide a bunch of coffins from an unkillable violence engine” spells? Because that would be so handy right now.

– The Gilbert House – Intervention and Invitation –

Elena Gilbert: Hi Jeremy! I was hoping to yell at you like I’m your mother!

Jeremy Gilbert: Aw, that’s too bad, because I was hoping to invite in a hybrid Klaus-kisser!

Tyler Lockwood: Hi guys! :-)=

Alaric Saltzman: …That went differently in my head.

lmfao!!

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 9 months ago

Text

You shovel food and orange juice down your gullet like you’ve been starving for weeks. You feel like you have been starving for weeks. You have got to admit, whoever made this meal knows what they’re doing - no complaints from you as you stuff yourself with delicious eggs and thick buttery toast.

“Slow down, honey,” John says, catching your attention. You look up to see them both watching you eat like you’re some kind of circus freak.

You glower at him. “What, I’m not even allowed to eat like I want?”

It’s sort of like you’re a little honey bee using its dying stinger on an armored Rhino, because he just stares you down with a tiny crinkled warning at the corner of his eyes - you hate that you know enough about him to get nervous just from that look.

Tex snorts. “Told ya she’d get her bite back. Listen, little snake, you better start being nicer to the two men that decide whether you get to have orgasms or not.”

He laughs at your expression. “Oh no, don’t gimme that curled lip. It’s true.”

“Is that what I am?” You ask, batting your eyelashes and scrunching your nose - trying another approach. If being a bitch hasn’t worked so far, maybe adorable and pathetic will yield some results. “Am I a sex slave? Like, some kind of cheap whore.”

“Oh, my Bonnie lady,” Tex says, sitting on the edge of the bed and tucking a loc of hair behind your ear. “You are not some cheap whore.” For a minute, his expression turns genuine. Ah, so maybe acting like a sweet bimbo is the ticket.

“After all, 2.5 million dollars ain’t exactly cheap.” Your hopes are dashed as the wicked grin slides back onto his face like it belongs there permanently.

You can’t help it - you glare bullets into him. Fucking asshole.

After you’re done eating, John takes your plate out. You try and stand up, but your legs are still wacky inflatable wailing tube men. Tex picks you up in one swoop, even though you threaten to curse his family bloodline, and then carries you into the living room. Oh, this place is nice.

Open, white sandstone. Coral brick trim. A warm breeze drifting through gauzy cream curtains that you can’t quite see behind. Massive windows blocked by climbing vines. You don’t know much about architecture - you haven’t traveled - but it sort of looks like you’re in a rainforest bungalow.

“Where are we?” You ask Tex, wide eyed and open mouthed.

“I’ll tell you if you give me another kiss.”

Not a chance in hell, cowboy, you think, turning your head away.

John is sitting on the big red linen sectional, thumbing over some kind of electronic, sleek tablet. When he sees you, he beams a devastating smile that could snuff Tex’s cheeky grin any day. Maybe that’s just because he doesn’t smile a lot, though.

Your mouth can’t help but raise a little. Visions of last night are starting to flood back into your head, and, with John and Tex center in all of them, you’re getting shyer and more embarrassed by the minute.

There’s a reason for the aching soreness between your legs and your inability to stand for more than five seconds: They had fucked the absolute shit out of you. On the bed several times, in the bathtub, on the counter, tongues and teeth and hands and cocks stretching you and filling to the brim. Pretty soon, it had turned into a contest of who could make you scream the loudest, or who could make you beg harder, or who could transform you into a babbling, incoherent, mindless set of holes. And then they started working together again, giving a new meaning to the word human fucktoy.

The verdict is clear, you are definitely now an expensive whore.

“C’mere,” John murmurs, holding out his arms for Tex to hand you over. They pass you along like you’re a pampered kitten instead of a grown woman, and John curls you up on his lap. He gives your head a little kiss. “How are you feeling? Any unbearable discomfort?”

“Yes. Please. I need to go to a hospital right away.” You roll your eyes.

“That mean you’re ready for another round?” Tex asks, toying with the hem of your silky nightie.

You practically climb up John’s chest to get away from him. “No. No. Too much.”

John unhooks your arms from his head, looking all too amused, and settles you back into his lap. He completely ignores the back and forth between Tex and you, opting instead to pull up something on his device and show Tex.

“Really? What in the fuck.” Tex raises an eyebrow. “He’s either dumb or stupid.”

You look between them, oblivious.

John speaks like he’s having a casual picnic conversation. “We’re going to kill Bradford. How do you want us to do it?”

For once, you’re looking at Tex for help.

He shrugs. “Ladies choice.”

@sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch just have fun out there 🤭

Yandere Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick round robin part 4 WIP

With my evil geniuses @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake 😈😈😘😘

Readers: this is our working doc for part 4. If you're new here, see the Masterlist (it's at the bottom), and WARNING, doves are dropping dead everywhere around here!! NSFW, yandere sh!t, 18+, plz take care!

They’re trying to kill you.

That is the thought that plays through your mind as Tex takes you to the top of the mountain with that wicked tongue, only to pull back at the last moment. Again, and again, he drives you to madness with long hard licks and wet little flicks over your clit, two of those thick fingers buried inside your needy little cunt. The bed is soaked beneath you; your thighs have begun to tremble uncontrollably; your throat is hoarse from the violence of the moans he forces from your throat.

That you could be a stone, hard and unyielding and unaffected by any of this.

But you’re just a woman made of flesh and blood, and these two men may as well have read the book on how exactly to stretch you down that fine line between heaven and hell.

After edging you for the umpteenth time Tex wipes his mouth your thigh with a satisfied smirk, those dark eyes burning up at you. “You ready for me, honey?”

You know you resemble a haggard and small creature of the woods, your eyes huge and tear-filled as you look up at him. You should be proud, that a part of you still wants to tell him to go to hell. But some little voice warns you from the back of your head, that you wouldn’t survive it.

Language isn’t really working for you right now. All you can manage is a plaintive whine that makes him smirk down at you. Someday you bargain with yourself. Someday, you’ll figure out how to make them pay for this. But right now…you’re helpless. And so you might as well…

Your thoughts stop dead as Tex unzips his jeans. Your gaze follows that leading line of dark hair down, and you lay eyes on just what this man has in store for you. You’re not sure if the whimper you make is out of anticipation, or fear.

“Shh,” says John from behind you. You hadn’t forgotten about him, of course, his hands still full of your breasts. “You’ll be fine.” Easy for him to say, and from the firm bulge that keeps pressing your cheek with your head in his lap, you can tell he’s not going to be any easier on you either.

Tex sizes you up with that smoldering gaze, as though he’s plotting something nefarious. Just that look makes you ache all over again, even while you tremble with nerves.

“Goddamn,” he grumbles, almost to himself as he pumps himself in his hand, spreading the beads of precum from his tip. “You sure you don’t want a piece of this, Johnny?”

You’re not really sure what he means by that, and you look up at John with wide eyes, what has become your knee-jerk reaction when you seek assurance, or mercy. You forgot that right now, at least, he has none left for you. His sharp look aimed down at you is nothing less than that of a hungry wolf.

“Would you do that for me, sweet girl?” he asks, stroking you from the tips of your nipples up to your hair. That one touch makes you writhe, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk.

With those big hands on your hips Tex flips you onto all fours, manhandling you into position exactly as he pleases. As he presses his length against the seam of your buttocks, grinding, your arms already begin to shake.

When John unzips his pants you begin to understand what they have in mind.

“Think you can handle us both, darlin’?” asks Tex, his hand lightly smoothing over the curve of your freshly bruised ass.

“She can do it,” John answers for you, sweeping your hair away from your face to turn your eyes up to his. He kisses you, coaxing you with his tongue, dragging your lower lip lightly with his teeth. “For me?” You hate yourself so much, for finding that you don’t want to disappoint him. You blink up at him, at a loss for words. But just slightly, you feel yourself nod, and he smiles at you like you have just signed your soul away to this wicked man.

With hands bracketing your head he guides you down to his massive erection. You take the velvety soft skin of his glans like a strawberry between your lips, licking messily before his light fingers on the back of your head guide you down. Simultaneously you savor Tex’s thick tip at your weeping entrance, your aching pussy craving to be stretched and ruined, before slowly he slides himself inside. He’s damn near gentle with you at first, as much as he can be with a cock like a weapon of massive destruction. Maybe it’s because of the mouthful you’ve got on the other end, or maybe…he’s savoring it too.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” he groans, working himself inside. “So tight and wet for me. Fuck.” Your answering moan is echoed all around, the cause and effect of Tex’s thrust driving you deeper onto John’s cock, to the very back of your throat, making you gag a little. The back and forth of it would almost have been comical, if not for the bone-melting madness overtaking the three of you in your quest for that ultimate release. For the moment your enmity with these men is forgotten. There is just flesh, and friction, and the promise of something absolutely incandescent on the horizon.

When Tex’s thick fingers slide between your legs to tease your nub you double down, clenching him fiercely inside you, so desperate to cum. It makes him swear behind you, pinching your clit in revenge. You see stars, so close to finally going to pieces. “Gaddamn, honey. I think you’d break a lesser man with that thing.”

You can’t tell him to shut up, so you moan in answer, the vibration on John’s cock causing him to buck up into your mouth, his long fingers grasping at your hair. You push your ass further up in the air in offering, tilting your hips, chasing your pleasure on Tex’s fingers with his manhood filling you to the hilt, and you minding your teeth all the while. Who knew you were such a champion multitasker? You deserved a fucking medal.

Tex’s thrusts grow more erratic behind you. His voice has dropped an octave, turned to pure gravel as he asks, “You close, baby?”

You’re not sure how he interprets your answering groan, but when his hips snap against you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed, it’s exactly the angle and the pressure you need. The explosion of scintillating warmth fills your womb and spreads outward, all the way to the tips of your fingers. John’s strong hands on your shoulders are all that save you from collapsing on him, as he spills salty cum into your mouth. You shudder with your aftershocks as you swallow him down, Tex’s fingers gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.

To say you collapse is an understatement. The three of you lay curled together as though you are nearly dead, unable to move for several minutes more. It’s John who recovers first, not shy about kissing you with his mitt of a hand holding your cheek, sliding down your neck, then teasing your nipple. You cry out for the overstimulation, squirming away, and Tex’s broad chest rumbles with low laughter behind you.

“See,” says Tex sleepily, always having to get in the last word. “I knew you’d cum ‘round.”

“If I could move, I would kick you,” you grumble, even as you nestle down on his arm beneath you, the swell of his bicep your pillow.

“Sticks and stones, rattlesnake,” he fires back softy into your hair, just this side of the line between awake and asleep.

“I’m going to gag you both,” John threatens, sounding just as tired, his hand on your waist. When you look to him through heavy lashes you see the slight curve of his smile, his dark eyes all for you.

You all fall into a deep slumber before he has to make good on the threat.

--------

points at @treedaddymcpuffpuff This is all her fault! 🤣 Batter up @sweetwolfcupcake :)))))))))))))))))))))))))

#yandere john wick #yandere tex johnson #john wick x reader #yandere john wick x reader #yandere tex johnson x reader #tex johnson #I can’t let it go guys #I need this mofo to die #🤣

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anton-petrov · 2 years ago

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Bonny Bungalow

DOWNLOAD

INTERIER

#sims 2 lot #sims 2 #lot makeover #lot bin #cc bonny bungalow #bonny bungalow

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catherinetcjd · 4 years ago

Photo

Bonny Bungalow ~ EAxis Bin House Makeover: now with 5B/4B/garage, attic, basement

My Maxis Makeover #66 ~ Bin House Bonny Bungalow (check out the other 65 remodels in my MTS profile) - now with 5B/4B/garage, attic, no-slope basement, on a 1-click foundation. Fully furnished. ONLY 1 CC.

The five bedrooms include three Master Suites - one set up for the 'parents', one set up for the 'grandparents', and one set up for an older teen/college-aged.

Please scroll through all the pictures at MTS to see everything this house has to offer. The house is fully furnished and lightly decorated. All appliances, plumbing and lighting are included. Telephones are located in the kitchen, and basement hallway. The front door is burglar alarmed. The stove and grill have smoke alarms. This is a clean copy of this house/lot; no sim has ever lived here. The package has been cleaned with Mootilda's Clean Installer. There is parking for two vehicles: one on the driveway, and one in the garage. This is technically a "No CC" build. But, 1-click Foundations must have HL's SimplePassageModularStairs to allow everyone up on the lowered foundation to get inside. Thank you, HugeLunatic for these stairs!

For more INFO and DOWNLOAD

#Sims 2 #sims 2 download #sims 2 house #TS2 #TS2 house #bin house #maxis makeover #bin house makeover #no-slope basement #1-click foundation #5 bedroom #no cc build #only 1 cc #CatherineTCJD #bonny bungalow

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hogarthwrites · 4 years ago

Text

house sitting for two chapter one

pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f)

genre: smut

warnings: alcohol use, graphic sex, daddy kink, bad dirty talk

words: 2,059

summary:

After a mix-up you find yourself house sitting with Sam.

note:

I’m back!!!

Nathan tried to ignore the looks he got as he looked for his seat on the plane. Cassie was three years old now, but she was still small enough to make other passengers sigh and shake their heads. It irked him, but he knew he was like that long ago.

“Is this it?” Elena peeped from behind his shoulder.

The tickets said seats E24, E25, E26.

“This is it,” Nathan nodded and let Elena and Cassie pass to find their seats while he stowed their bags.

“Can't believe we're finally going on this trip,” Elena happily sighed and stretched in her seat. “Three weeks in Europe without any paperwork or clients.”

“I'm just happy Sam was willing to house sit for us,” Nathan muttered as he tried handed Cassie a notebook and a crayon to distract her.

“Sam?” Elena gave him a quizzical look. “I asked (Y/N) because Sam had that thing.”

“No, you didn't, and that was cancelled anyway.”

“Nate, I left you a note on the fridge the other day about it.”

And Elena did leave that note. Unfortunately for Nathan, it flew off when he whipped the fridge door open and got lost under the fridge.

“Well, I didn't see it,” he shrugged.

“Oh, no, Nate, ” Elena fumbled for her phone. “I have to text them.”

“Hey, don't worry, they've worked together before. I'm sure they'll work it out.”

The wind gently blew in from the open window of your car as you made your way to the Drake-Fisher household. It wasn't your first time house sitting for Elena, who had become like the sister you always wished you had, and if you were being honest, staying in the beach house felt like a vacation.

You heard your phone buzz, but you were too lost in your thoughts to bother checking. It was probably just your mom, as Elena and Nathan were probably on the plane by now.

The bungalow came into view and you parked your car in front. It was automatic for you to grab your bags and make your way in.

“Aw, sweet,” you grabbed the bowl of chips and the bottle of beer on the counter and made your way to the fridge where a note was plastered on with Nathan’s handwriting.

You know the drill. Water the plants, keep the place clean, bark at introducers. Help yourself to the fridge. Keep in touch, Sam.

You squinted at the last word. Sam? The toilet flushed and you heard water running.

Sam? The man you worked with once, the man you always hooked up with on special occasions? One Night Sam?

“What are you doing here?” Sam froze as he saw you then he pointed at the bowl in your hand. “Those are mine.”

“Uh,” you were speechless at his appearance. He had a blue Hawaiian shirt printed with large orange hibiscus flowers on, unbuttoned, a pair of beige shorts, and flip flops. It was a far cry from the usual sherpa jacket, jeans, and heavy duty boots.

“You still there?” Sam snapped his fingers at you.

“Yeah,” you hugged the bowl closer to you. “Elena asked me to house sit.”

“Nice try. Nathan asked me to house sit,” he raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned against the wall.

“You're mistaken, old man,” you pulled your phone out from your pocket. “Here, I'll show you the text Elena– oh. ”

You finally saw the text she sent earlier:

Hey! Sorry, there's been a mix-up with Nate as he asked Sam to house sit as well. I'm so sorry about this. I hope you guys can figure something out.

“What?” Sam moved closer.

“So we're both house sitting,” you held your phone up for him to read the text. “Unless you want me to go.”

“What? No,” he gently put a hand on your arm. “Stay. I’m sorry about earlier, but I could use the company.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “We never really got to properly connect, you know?”

“I don't know, Sam, I think we connected just fine at Jill and Bonnie’s wedding, and last Halloween, and a couple of barbecues…” You smirked, noting the slight redness that was blossoming on Sam’s cheeks. So he does get flustered.

“A few beers won't hurt,” he nudged you.

“Look,” you sighed. “All those times were fun, and you're a great lay,” you noticed a grin tug on the corners of his lips. “But if I'm gonna stay, we're going to have to lay off the sex. We're gonna be here for a while.”

“Is that all you think about?” Sam gave you a mocking grin. “I just wanted to get to know you better.”

“No, I–” this time, you were flustered, but Sam grabbed another bottle of beer and raised it up for you to clink. “Cheers?”

You clinked his bottle and chuckled. “Cheers.”

You spent the rest of the day in the sitting room, lounging around the cushions on the floor and playing Mancala. Sam was armed with an abundance of cheesy jokes, and despite your best judgment, you laughed at them all.

You learned that he loved to read and that he likes soft rock music, and in turn, you introduced him to newer music.

“ WAP? ” Sam looked confused as you played the song on your phone. “Is that an acronym or a sound?”

“Just listen,” you giggled.

Sam leaned over on the table, listening intently to the music.

“This is really catchy, by the way,” he mumbled.

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy.

He grinned and eventually burst out in laughter as the song progressed.

“What?” You laughed along.

“It's… It's interesting,” he was still smiling. “I like it. Wet ass pussy, huh?”

“Truly a masterpiece,” you put your phone away when the song ended and downed your beer. Sam was still leaning on the table, looking at you.

You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it, but Sam started to move closer. Alarms went off in your head, but despite it all, you still found yourself kissing him back. His lips tasted like beer and cigarettes, and you sighed as his calloused palms slid under your shirt, touching the soft skin underneath.

His skin was warm as you slid your own hand under his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips. It was all too familiar and you knew all too well where this was leading.

No sex.

“Sam,” you breathed, pulling away. He leaned in to kiss you more, but you placed a hand on his chest. “We can’t do this.”

“Why?” His voice was hoarse, obvious that he wanted it as much as you did.

“Remember? No sex?” You softly pushed him away, and he lowered his head and let out a deep chuckle.

“You were being serious about that?”

“Yes, Sam, I was!” You stood up and fixed your shirt. “I’m going to bed.”

Sam could only sigh as you grabbed your bags and made your way to the spare bedroom that Elena called “work in progress”. You were grateful the room had its own bathroom so you didn’t have to go out to see Sam, but it didn’t stop you from rubbing one out in the shower, thinking about the kiss from earlier.

You cursed yourself when you finally crawled into the mattress on the floor. This was a stupid rule. Why not have sex with him? You’ve already had sex with Sam Drake countless times, right? What makes this time different?

Yeah, but I never stayed long enough to wake up in his arms. The last thing you wanted was to start having actual feelings for the man. Still…

He was just in the sitting room. You knew because you heard soft music playing from the record player. You could imagine him still sitting on those cushions, probably smoking now. Could he be thinking of you?

You got out of bed and peeked out into the hallway. Sam was definitely still there.

This is crazy. You’re crazy. You tried to drown out your thoughts as you made your way to the sitting room.

Sam was lounging on the cushions, one hand under his head and a cigarette in the other. He looked a little surprised as you stood at the doorway.

“What’s up?” He smiled as you kneeled next to him.

You caught his lips in yours, pushing him down on the cushions. He let out a grunt as you straddled him, taking his cigarette and placing it between your lips.

“What happened to the ‘no sex’ rule?” Sam smirked as his fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt.

“It’s a stupid a rule,” you smiled, taking a drag.

“I’m glad you agree,” Sam pulled you closer to kiss you.

Your shirt was the first to go as you grind your hips against his. Sam looked up at you in awe, watching you pleasure yourself while you smoked. His fingers kneaded into your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“This is a bad idea,” you said, softly moaning as you felt him get harder in his shorts.

“We can stop,” Sam teased. “But I don't think that's what you want.”

“No. It isn't,” you put the cigarette out on the ashtray on the table then slid down to his crotch, palming the ever growing bulge. “This I want.”

You wasted no time pulling his shorts off along with his underwear, pleased at his cock, glistening with pre-cum, ready for you. You took it in your hand, squeezing it gently and you felt it throb and twitch with desire.

“Fuck, you look good,” Sam groaned as you took his manhood in your mouth. “That's right, baby.”

You swirled your tongue around his cock, savouring the taste of his pre-cum, wanting more. He groaned and bucked his hips, making you take him in deeper in your mouth. You loved how he tasted, how he looked under your control, and you felt your underwear get wet.

Sam’s fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you up to kiss him. You squealed as he flipped you over on the cushion with ease, and he started kissing your chest and your breasts. Your underwear came off, then his shirt as Sam was desperate to feel your skin against his.

He lay on top of you, his naked chest flush against yours as he continued to kiss you. You felt his cock rub against your clit as he slowly moved his hips, trying to get a feel for you.

“Sam,” you panted as his lips moved down to your neck. “Fuck me now. Please.”

“If you insist.” Sam gave you a dark grin before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself in ever so slowly, his hot breath on your neck.

“Sam, please,” you whined.

You gasped as he lurched his hips forward, slamming into you, and soon he'd set a quick pace. He sat up to put his hands on your hips, groaning at the sensation.

“Yeah, fill that pussy up,” you said, eliciting a moan from Sam.

“I'm gonna fill you up good, baby,” Sam slowed his hips to thrust into you deep and hard. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, I love it,” you grabbed at the pillows around you.

Sam shifted you so you lay on your side, legs closed, and he growled at the tightness.

“Mmmh,” he slapped your ass. “So tight, baby.”

He set a quick pace again while you held onto the cushions. You moved your hips in time with his thrusts, your mouth hung open in pleasure, saying his name over and over like a prayer.

Sam held your legs down as you came, your loud moans filling the room, and his hips stilled. You knew he was close when he let out an animalistic growl and slammed his hips against your ass over and over until he quickly pulled out and you felt his warm seed on your ass.

You didn't even remember what happened when you finally came down from your high as your eyes grew heavy. Next thing you knew, Sam was covering you with a blanket.

“What happened?” You mumbled.

“You fell asleep, I think,” Sam put a pillow under your head.

“Oh,” you closed your eyes as your head hit the pillow again.

#sam drake x reader #sam drake smut #uncharted fanfiction #sam drake

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nappe-plays-the-sims · 3 years ago

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Just Right + Bonny Bungalow = ... Just Bungalow? Bonny Right? Not to be confused with Bonnie Wright?

No I’m not procrastinating the final pieces of the project I was hoping to release last month, what do you mean?

#sims 2 #silly lot combination project

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bellemorte180 · 4 years ago

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Echoes of Sorrow

Chapter Two: Running

Running on the white sand caused Caroline’s thighs to burn. It was nothing compared to the trails that weaved through the woods that surrounded Mystic Falls. Breathing in the salt air, she pushed herself harder and harder down the shoreline, watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. It was early but mornings had always been Caroline’s solace. The moment when the world felt like hers, before reality set in. She could run through the trails or in the sand and feel alive for a moment.

She turned the music on her phone up louder, drowning out the world around her and pushed on. She tried to block out her thoughts, the worries that plagued her as she laid in her bed at night, tossing and turning before giving up all together. While the sounds of the ocean were soothing, she found that sleep continued to evade her. The moment a hint of light appeared, Caroline pulled herself from her bed and grabbed her sneakers before Bonnie was awake or Elena snuck her way back into the bungalow.

Caroline passed the series of chairs and the pergola that was being set up for the wedding ceremony that would be held later in the day. She passed other morning joggers and an elderly couple walking down the beach hand in hand. They stood looking out into the ocean, their arms wrapped around one another and with the set up for the wedding in the background, the sight struck a chord with Caroline. As much as she pushed back against Elena and Bonnie’s teasing, deep down she wondered if she would ever feel the love that couple obviously felt.

READ THE REST ON A03 (click the title)

#klaroline #Echoes of Sorrow

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zalrb · 4 years ago

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Awake {Bonkai Fanfic}

Alright! I finished the BK Preview, it’s below the cut. NSFW obviously, I don’t think I have a single BK fic that isn’t NSFW. I could make this a two-parter or leave it honestly.

not my gif

Awake

The rest of this fic was inspired by this Olake moment in Scandal

Bonnie Bennett sat on the sofa with her feet up, nursing her second glass of wine, as Mark cleared the coffee table of their plates.

“You really should let me help,” she said.

“No, no, no,” he insisted. “This was my anniversary gift to you, that means I do the clean-up.”

Bonnie smiled and beckoned him toward her, kissing him gently on the lips with the promise of something more.

“Mm,” he moaned. “I better get these done quickly.”

“Yes,” said Bonnie. “Or I might start with you.”

The knowing quirk of her eyebrow almost made Mark trip as he walked toward the kitchen, a bit of a hurry in his step. Bonnie chuckled lightly to herself and took another sip of wine, looking around at the living room. It was a mix-and-match of her belongings and Mark’s. They had only been living together for a couple of months and they still hadn’t struck a balance between their two aesthetics to make their house look more cohesive.

Bonnie sighed deeply. For the first time in a long time, she felt settled. Maybe even content. Whatever she felt, she didn’t think she’d be able to feel it again after Enzo. It had taken a few years and a lot of distance between herself and Mystic Falls to get to this place. Limited communication with Damon and Elena, with Alaric and Caroline; they only served to remind her all that she lost and keeping in regular contact with them would only eventually lead to more sacrifice on her part. She’d learned that lesson many times.

She’d met Mark during her travels around the world – in Istanbul, specifically. They were both lost in the city and it turned out they were trying to get to the same place. They spent all their time in the city together after that. Both of them were traveling though they were going to different places --- he backpacked while she enjoyed the best hotels each city could offer. They kept each other up to date on the various adventures they went on in various countries. Once they both made it back to the States, they decided to meet up, then they decided to date, then, three years later, they decided to move in together.

Bonnie laughed at hearing him whistle in the kitchen. He was a good man. Simple. He liked simple things. She opened her mouth to ask him how long he planned on taking, to tease him since history proved she didn’t need to be in the same room as him to seduce him, but a draught blew through the window and stilled her tongue. The breeze was a caress on her shoulders --- her legs erupted into goosebumps, a chill seeped through to her bones and left her breathless.

She had to go outside.

“Babe,” she called, putting down the glass. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Everything OK?” Mark called back from the kitchen.

Bonnie stood up. “Yeah, I just have to go outside.”

“Why?”

Fucking hell, because! Bonnie’s swift and violent onset of impatience and irritation made her pause. There was no reason for such an aggressive reaction, even if silent, and its randomness both scared her and compelled her to see why she felt the need to go outside.

“Hun?” said Mark.

“Sorry, I just um – I think I forgot my shawl in the yard,” she said, walking to the front door.

Why was she lying to him?

“I can get---”

“No, no! I want some fresh air anyway.”

Bonnie opened the door and walked out of the bungalow, onto the lawn. Her eyes quickly swept the street dozens of times, looking for anything out of the ordinary; but nothing about her sleepy residential neighbourhood looked out of place.

She shook her head and laughed. She must’ve imagined it or had more wine than she originally thought, a breeze was only ever a breeze, there was nothing ---

And then she felt it.

She looked to her right and a bearded man appeared, almost as if he materialized from shadows.

“Bonnie Bennett, as I live and breathe.”

Bonnie’s lips parted, she felt something inside of herself, a fire on her skin, a fire in her belly, a hatred and a - a - ferocity, a danger --- maybe even a longing? --- that felt awfully, terribly familiar and yet she didn’t recognize the man in front of her, didn’t recognize his knowing gaze or smug smirk, nothing about him registered in her mind but she felt compelled to hate him, even though she could feel that hatred met something different to them.

Finally, she spoke. She was going to say, “Do I know you?” but what came out was, “I don’t know who you are but I know you have ten seconds to get off my property.”

The man smiled at that. “Ah, I shouldn’t take it personally,” he said. “Malivore and all.”

That caught Bonnie’s attention. Malivore, whatever it was, was supernatural. Nope. Not today. She’d been done with the supernatural for years.

“I don’t know what witch business—”

“Oh no, no, no,” said the man, walking up to her, his eyebrows furrowed. The closer he came to her, the harder Bonnie’s heart started to pound. She had the irrational fear that he could hear it and she willed herself to not be so agitated, so bothered, so … hot. It was like her internal temperature rose.

“You think I came here for witch business?” His voice got soft. Dangerous. “I gave up something I’ve wanted to do for a long time to come here. To you.”

Bonnie didn’t know how she knew but she felt it in her bones that what he’d given up was some kind of evil. It infuriated her, which only served to inflame her more. What was this? Something she shouldn’t indulge, shouldn’t unleash. She should walk away. She should go back in the house, back to Mark, she’d been so content inside. Better yet, she should eviscerate him, this man she didn’t know, this man she wanted to kill and consume all at once.

“So, you know me?” she asked.

“You know, I know you.” He got closer to her. Only a few feet away now. “All these years and you can’t escape it.” He grinned, smug. Triumphant. “You don’t even know who I am and you can’t escape it.”

Oh, she hated him.

“You get any closer to me and I will hurt you,” said Bonnie through gritted teeth.

“Is that a promise?” He took another step. Bonnie swallowed hard.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been aching for you to hurt me, Bonnie Bennett.”

Cursed words. They thrilled her. They disgusted her.

“Who are you then?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He walked even closer to her. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you that and I’ve been to hell, many hells.” He brushed his lips against her ear. “When you figure out my name, I promise you, you won’t be able to stop screaming it.”

Bonnie’s eyes fluttered. She pushed him away.

He was a stranger, she knew this, she had no recollection of him whatsoever in her mind, but her mind wasn’t the issue. She was so furious with herself that she could, she could ---

Bonnie seized Kai’s throat, her grip hard, her jaw clenched.

He laughed. “Look at you,” he said. “You’ve been lusting for this for years.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“You’re awake now, Bonnie,” he said. “He’ll never be enough. Not now.”

Bonnie tightened her grip, moving forward so that she slammed him against the tree.

“You don’t know anything about him.”

“Only that he isn’t me,” he said. “And now that you’ve met me, that’s always going to be unsatisfying.”

“Shut up,” she warned through clenched teeth. “You know nothing about me.”

He bore his eyes into Bonnie’s and her breathing got shallow. She felt electrified with yearning and rage, desire and contempt. His body called to hers and she responded to him in a way that felt almost cosmic. She felt him before she even saw him. Everything within her screamed for him.

“I know the part of you you thought you’d never feel again even if you don’t remember it.”

He reached forward and started to undo the first button of Bonnie’s jeans, sprouting an ache between her legs. She let go of his throat and slapped his hand away, but as soon as she did, the ache pulsed, making her convulse, and she started unbuckling his belt with a nimbleness that surprised her. He went back to undoing the rest of her buttons and she hurriedly unzipped his fly.

Quickly, he put his hand into her waistband, slipping it beneath her underwear and made contact with her ache.

They both gasped.

“You don’t remember me but you remember this, don’t you?” he said, rubbing her.

Bonnie’s legs trembled. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from mewling, her tooth piercing it so intensely, she thought she was going to bleed.

“Don’t you?” he whispered in her ear, nipping her ear, circling his finger faster.

Shit. She did. But she couldn’t make any sound of pleasure, she couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He must’ve read her mind.

“Tell me you like this.”

His rhythm became agonizingly slow.

No! Please no! She pressed her lips together to keep from begging aloud but she could feel the neediness radiate from her. He knew how to torture her.

“You like it,” he said. “Tell me.”

Nothing she’d felt had been anything like this --- she craved him with a hunger that she did her best to contain, but she wanted him inside of her but oh God, she wanted him inside of her. And she hated herself for it.

Even though Bonnie didn’t say anything, he leaned down to kiss her like a gut reaction, like he couldn’t hold out waiting for her to give in, but Bonnie stopped him by returning her hand to his throat, pinning him to the tree. He didn’t get to do that. He hadn’t earned that. She slipped her free hand beneath his waistband now, holding him, her lips parting at the intensity of his hardness.

He groaned, rich and deep. Her breath hitched. She stroked him, compelling him to massage her quicker. He made no effort to contain his sighs and pants and moans --- wet noises that agitated Bonnie’s own pleasure. As if it was all too much to witness and bear at the same time, he closed his eyes.

“Look at me,” Bonnie demanded.

He moaned.

“You piece of shit, look at me.”

His eyes snapped open, hooded and cloudy. “I – fuck.”

This was wrong. So wrong. Dirty. Awful. She could feel it too --- her shame. But it felt too good for her to stop, to tell him to stop, for any of it to stop. She knew, even now, that she wanted more. She wanted it all. She ---

“Hmm.” Bonnie whimpered. She couldn’t help it. She was close. “Shit,” she moaned.

“Yes.” He smirked, his eyes alight with lust and vicious triumph. He didn’t take them off her. “Tell me you like it,” he said, his voice was breathy and greedy. He intensified his motions --- her legs were going to buckle.

“Tell me you like it,” he insisted.

“I like – I ---” Bonnie was too overcome to finish her thought. Thank God. He would’ve won otherwise.

She climaxed, her muscles spasming around his finger, and she bit him hard on the shoulder as she released, feeling the satisfaction of him convulsing against her body as she pushed him over the edge.

There were a few moments of them slumped against each other, panting and jelly-legged, where there was nothing but oblivion and then --- Mark’s voice.

“This sure as fucking hell isn’t the backyard.”

#bonkai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #the vampire diaries #grahamwood #kat graham #chris wood #bonnie x kai #kai x bonnie #bonkai fanfiction #fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #tvd #smut #bonkai smut #ff

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spyvstailor · 4 years ago

Text

Started a new novel, since I still feel weird releasing my zombie novel in the middle of a global pandemic. So, enjoy this free sneak peak at my prologue.

Coyote Flats had been built on 312 graves.

Not many people knew this, of course. If they did they wouldn't have moved to the small town when the boom hit in the early eighties.

Situated in a large basin at the bottom of a valley, Coyote Flats was farmland mostly. Canadian prairie grass grew at the top of the valley, the bottom of which was a large alkali salt plain where the creature for which the Flats was named roamed freely.

In 1978 a cattle farmer digging a well in the basin hit a piece of bone, digging up a mammoth in what would be the first of many late Pleistocene fauna.

That was the cause of the second boom of Coyote Flats.

Before that it was dried up and dead, had been since the thirties when the topsoil blew away from the rich earth at the top of the valley.

Now it was tourist town, small enough that it still had it's dignity. It wasn't trinkets and toys like some of the other dinosaur riddled small towns that dotted the prairies, but it still drew a crowd.

Seven thousand people resided within the Flats, half of that in the surrounding area, so it wasn't ever big, just big enough.

Within the town limits, past the Minnie the Mammoth statue by the highway sign, were homes built in the early eighties, peppered throughout with older homes. The front enclosed porch homes of 1912, the wide and squat bungalow homes of the 1920's and three large red bricked buildings in the centre, huddled around the park.

If one knew about the 312 buried beneath the Coyote Flats Park, then they would also know that McAllister Funeral Home to the east had always been a mortuary, that the Town Hall to the north was once a sanatorium where tuberculosis patients from all across the northern prairies went to seek medical help and rest, before ultimately dying of the white plague in the early days of the twentieth century and that St. Bernadine's Roman Catholic Church, in the south-west of the park had always been the church that offered sanctuary for the dying.

These buildings were the oldest in Coyote Flats.

The oldest residents, outside of the McAllister sisters themselves who lived in a turn of the century Victorian style home just east of the park, beside the funeral home that shared their name, though was never owned by them. No, these women, white witches teased by some, were members of the one of the oldest families in the Flats. Nearly a quarter of the town shared the name McAllister with them, though none were progenitors of these women as they were all single matrons, old maids as they were once called.

They lured both men and women, young and old, into their open home with the scent of sweets baking on a warm summer's eve, or the promise of good gossip, tea and maybe a home remedy or two.

When the wind blew from the south, they'd say, love will kiss thee on the mouth.

Oh Bonny Portmore, Charity McAllister, could be heard singing from their front porch on a quiet afternoon as she tended her window box flowers, I am sorry to see, such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree. For it stood on your shore for many a long day, til the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

These women, tended to by their great grand-niece, granddaughter of their oldest sister Grace, may she rest in peace, were some of the only who knew about the 312.

Inside the brick building to the north, deep in the basement of the Town Hall, Eddie Hollander was another who knew of the 312. He knew because he worked the historical archives, he lived among papers and files and microfiche, he had gone to university to become a historian, only to be shoved down into the bowels of Coyote Flats where no one came, no one visited, no one seemed to care.

He lived, oddly enough, beside the McAllisters on Diefenbaker Avenue, just east of the park. From his front porch, as from the McAllister's, he saw the birch stand that separated the park from the rest of the world.

If he peered hard enough through the black and white trunks of the trees, he could see the back of St. Bernadine's. In the winter, he didn't have to peer much at all, the red brick building standing out against the white of the snow.

While the church became clear to see in the winter, the white marble angel behind it blended in.

She stood eight feet tall, eleven feet counting the pedestal beneath her sandaled feet, arms reaching out to the heavens in abject grief, wings spread tall and wide.

Anyone who knew about the 312, knew why this angel stood there behind the church. Those who didn't, assumed she was just some pretty piece of statuary in the park, confused, maybe, about why she stood behind the church and not in front of it or beside it.

But for as confused as people were about the placement of the white angel, they were just as confused about the black marble angel.

He knelt on his pedestal, about three hundred yards north from the church, backed by the birch stand that swooped in beside him and around to shield him from the bitter winds coming from the east and the north. The winds that brought visitors and storms, according to the McAllister sisters.

This angel was militant and vengeful looking.

His hood hid most of his features from the world, though anyone who really dared to peer into the shadows of the hood said he was sometimes disapproving, sometimes amused. With a sort of patrician nose in the classical style and piercing eyes carved into the cold stone, he was hunched on one knee, arm raised with a flaming sword in it, prepared for the kill. Wings spread intimidatingly or perhaps even in preparation for a flight into battle

He was frightening to children, threatening to men and abhorrent to women (though some would say he had an oddly thrilling charm about him).

Perhaps aware of this, the town council tried to beautify him somewhat, they planted wave petunias in a flowerbed at the base of his pedestal in the hopes of softening the threat.

He only seemed to drop his gaze to them in silent annoyance.

In the morning he was placid, almost smiling, by noon he was scowling, aggressive, before becoming a mild warrior of God once more in the evening.

Most didn't dare get close to him come nightfall, however. It just wasn't done.

No one entered the park at night, they didn't know why, they just knew it gave them odd feelings and sensations.

If you timed it just right, on a peaceful evening in mid-summer in Coyote Flats. Standing before the black angel with your back to him, gazing across the well trimmed grass to where the church stood shielding the white angel from MacKenzie-King Avenue in the west, you could be lucky enough to hear both Charity McAllister singing and the sound of a small town in the dying light of the sun. And you would forget, for a moment, the eerie feeling that crept upon you, standing in a park in the middle of Coyote Flats proper which was once a cemetery where 312 were buried.

#this is a chance for all my followers who post about supporting authors and creators to put their money where their mouths are #support me guys #need it #getting laid off from work #so i need to kick ass on this proper like and make some money from my writing #coyote flats #enjoy this free sneak peak #and if you do happen to like my work visit my actual tumblr page to donate to a struggling author #this has not been edited #lazy

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