#Lamp Of Glory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shotmrmiller · 6 months

Text

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you

2K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 1 month

Text

Extreme Sports (NSFW) FT Jiheon

Author's Note: … Challenge accepted @authorhjk1 you caused this so I pass the baton to you

Jiheon’s shoulders slumped as she walked up to her apartment door, exhaustion tugging at every step. The day had been a whirlwind of energy, lights, and endless cheers at the Kia Tigers stadium, where she’d spent hours promoting and performing with her usual vibrant charm. But now, all she wanted was to slip into something comfortable and unwind.

She fumbled with the key in her hand, her mind still buzzing with the echoes of the crowd. As the door clicked open, the familiar scent of her favorite dish greeted her—a warm, savory aroma that instantly lifted her spirits.

Stepping inside, she found the lights dimmed just enough to create a cozy atmosphere. The living room, which usually held the remnants of your shared hobbies, was immaculately tidy, with a small table set up in the center. There, laid out perfectly, was her favorite food—her mouth watered at the sight.

But what caught her eye next made her heart swell. Off to the side, you had arranged her reading set up, complete with her preferred snacks and a comfortable chair. Her favorite book was already there waiting for her to open it.

A tired smile spread across Jiheon’s face as she took it all in. You had thought of everything—every detail designed to help her unwind and recharge after a long day. She kicked off her shoes, feeling the tension in her body ease as she made her way to the kitchen, where she knew you'd be waiting with that familiar grin.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude and affection as she wrapped her arms around you from behind.

You turned around, chuckling. “Anything for my favorite homebody. Now, go enjoy yourself. Everything’s ready.”

Jiheon pulled back, her eyes shining with appreciation. “You really are the best,” she said before heading to the table, her heart lighter, the weariness of the day already fading into the background. She ate happily as you finished the dishes used to make the meal. She watched you work diligently. She considered proposing to you since you had been together for 2 years now having met at a book signing event of a mutual favorite author.

“You know babe, you'd make a great house husband. Would you like to be mine?”

You laugh and turn around your pink and blue apron she got you as a gag gift for your birthday gets splashed with dishwater as you do so, “oh is that a proposal?” you tease. Jiheon nods happily.

“Oh well then in that case where's the ring? The fancy gesture. I'm not some cheap man or a hussy you know,” you joke.

Jiheon’s smile intensified as her eyes narrowed at you. She gets up and moves closer to you after finishing her food. Her eyes are seductive, hungry,

“So you're not saying no?” she teases raising an eyebrow.

You smile and say “I'm down if you are.” Jiheon’s smile changes as she begins to daydream about her wedding to you.

She walked closer to you so you could get a good look at her in all her glory.

Jiheon twirled to you in her pretty crop top Jersey. You smiled at her. "How do I look?" she asked.

you smiled and said, "Sexy as hell," Jiheon smiled back at you.

"you always know the right words to say, babe," she says

you laugh and say, "Really is that all it took to make you smile?" Jiheon's brighter-than-the-sun eye smile got you as it always does as she sits next to you. She came to your apartment after promoting at the game. She was tired and her introverted traits were forcing her to need a recharge, and your place was always so quiet and peaceful. An introvert's palace of sorts. she waddles to your couch to nuzzle closer to you. Certainly! Here’s a scene where Jiheon and her boyfriend discuss potential wedding plans, building on the playful proposal:

Later that evening, after the dishes were done and the last traces of dinner were tidied away, Jiheon and her boyfriend curled up together on the couch. The soft glow of the lamp bathed them in warmth as Jiheon rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his arm.

“So… about that house husband thing,” you began with a smirk, breaking the comfortable silence.

Jiheon chuckled softly, tilting her head to look up at him. “What about it?”

“Well, you seemed pretty serious earlier,” he teased, “and I was thinking… if you’re going to propose, we might as well start planning, right?”

Jiheon’s heart fluttered at your words, and she sat up a bit straighter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You mean it? You’d really want to start planning a wedding?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. “Why not? We’ve been together for two years, and I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend my life with. So, what do you think? How should our wedding be?”

Jiheon’s mind raced with possibilities. She had never been one to dream too much about weddings, but now, with you, it felt different—more real. “Well… I’ve always imagined something small and intimate,” she began, her voice soft as she painted the picture in her mind. “Just close friends and family, maybe somewhere outdoors. A garden or by the beach.”

You nodded along, picturing the scene she was describing. “I like that. Something simple but beautiful, just like us.”

Jiheon’s smile grew. “And I’d want the reception to be fun—lots of music, good food, and maybe even a little karaoke for old times’ sake.”

You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Karaoke at a wedding? You really are full of surprises.”

“Of course! I want our wedding to be a reflection of who we are, not just some formal event. And besides, I can’t imagine getting married without a little singing involved,” Jiheon said, her tone playful but sincere.

You leaned in, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I love that idea. And you know what? We should also write our own vows. Something that’s just between us, you know?”

Jiheon’s heart melted at the thought. “I love that. I’d want our vows to be something special, something that really captures what we mean to each other.”

You smile then remind her, “Since you proposed this though I'm still gonna need the ring,” you say in a joking tone and Jiheon one-ups you.

“Oh, don't you worry I'm going to get you the best ring ever. Every other wife is going to be so jealous of my househusband,” she says proudly,

“Oh and how are you going to pay for it?”

“Simple after we renew our contracts and become as big as Twice I'm gonna go to a jewelry brand (because obviously I'll be an ambassador) and buy you the cutest ring.” Jiheon asserts and you laugh at her enthusiasm.

She finds her favorite spot on the couch (draped along your body with her chin in the crook of your neck). She found much-needed rest. As you listened to her breathing your mind made you consider how proud you were of her, but also how her body perfectly fit into yours. The more you thought about the more your desire for her grew. Jiheon noticed the change in the atmosphere immediately and fell into a similar feeling she began to unconsciously grind her honey pot on your crotch the friction pushing both of you further down the desire rabbit hole.

You were the first to break, “fuck honey I need you. You say and Jiheon Smiles as she gets up removing her pants and top.

“You know there's this extreme sport I've been wanting to try,” Jiheon says seductively

Your eyes narrow and you ask, “Oh, and what is that,”

“Raw Sex” Jiheon cooed before taking your pants off. She admires your rod and says, "My husband has such a nice cock." You blush as she slides up and lowers herself onto your rod. She moans elated.

"God I forget how big you are." she moans, as she begins rolling her hips on top of you. You get a first-row view to watch as she humps and grinds on you as she looks for that sweet spot. As she searches your hand moves to her clit to give her that extra push, and she jolts. her eyes narrow as she locks eyes with you.

"More!" she moans as she rides you with greater intensity. you nod as you go further and further into pleasure with her. Her walls begin to tighten as she moves around you. The sound of her skin against yours and her angelic moans are music to your ears as you encourage her to cum with your body.

as she gets closer a thin layer of sweat builds on her body making her shine even brighter. you smile as she pulls you in for a kiss. her lips taste like the meal you just made for her. you smile as she breaks the kiss.

what sends you over the edge is when she says, "Is my house husband gonna cum with me." when she says that the both of your tumble into the pleasure spiral as she squirts all over your cock and you paint her guts white. you smile when it's all said and done, and say,

"you know what if everytime is gonna be like that then maybe I don't need the ring." Jiheon rolls her eyes before the two of you pass out on your couch.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop smut #jiheon smut #fromis 9 smut #baek jiheon #jiheon

526 notes · View notes

kentobb · 9 months

Text

‘I hate you’

Character: Husband!Iwaizumi x Wife!Reader

Warning: Angst with no comfort (I know you guys hate me at this point).

A/N: I am a fan of angst w/ no comfort in case you guys didn’t notice. I will be releasing more angst and different scenarios. Be free to send a request babes!

The night was dark, the only source of light being the faint glow of the the city’s skyline as Iwaizumi parked his car in front of his home. The weight of a grueling practice session hanging heavily on his shoulders. His muscles ached, his mind was a whirlpool of strategies and his heart was filled with unspoken longing for the comforts of his home, but hey, nobody said that training the Japan’s Men’s Volleyball Team was easy.

As he opened the door, the warm glow of the living room light washed over him, a stark contrast to the cold darkness outside. You, his lovely wife, a beacon of love and support greeted him with a tired smile.

However, your six-year old daughter, Yuki, a bundle of energy and joy, ran towards him, her tiny arms wrapping around his tired legs.

Dinner was a quiet affair, the only sound being the clinking of cutlery against the plates. Yuki, however, was a chatterbox, her excitement about her upcoming ballet recital bubbling over. “And we will be doing the Swan Lake!” “I have been practicing a lot daddy!” She spoke animatedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her voice filled with hope. She turned to her father, her innocent eyes searching his. “Daddy, will you come to my recital?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Iwaizumi looked at her daughter, his heart aching at the hopeful look in her eyes. He wanted to be there, he really does, to watch his little girl twirl and dance, to be the father she deserved. But he knew the harsh reality of his schedule, the relentless demands of his career. “We will see,” he said, it’s all he says, his voice heavy with regret.

Your smile faded, replaced by a look of disappointment. You knew your husband words for what they were— an unfulfilled promise. Yuki’s face fell, her excitement replaced by a quiet sadness that you were quick to notice. It was a scene all too familiar, a bitter pill you had to swallowed many times before.

After dinner, you cleaned the kitchen, the silence of the house echoing the heaviness in your heart. But you were determined to make this right, as you ascended the stairs into your shared bedroom, you made a silent vow. To take manners into your own hands. To ensure that your daughter recital would not be another missed milestone, another broken promise.

You husband may be a national hero, a symbol of strength and resilience, but to your daughter? He was simply ‘Daddy’. And she deserves to have her ‘Daddy’ cheering for her from the audience, not from miles away. She deserved to have her hero by her side, not just in spirit but in person.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap. You turned to look at your husband, eyes reflecting the turmoil in your heart.

“Hajime,” You spoke, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your heart, “We need to talk about Yuki.”

Iwaizumi, still in his practice clothes, looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion, “What about her, babe?” He asked, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

“You know she needs you there, Hajime. She needs her father,” You replied, voice barely a whisper.

Iwaizumi just sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m working hard for her, for us.”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips, “That’s not what she needs, Hajime. She doesn’t need the money, or the fame, or the glory. She needs her father. She needs you to be there for her, to support her, to love her.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes hardened, his patience wearing thin. “There will be a million recitals, I’ll go to one of them.”

His words hung in the air, a harsh reality you both had been avoiding. Your eyes welled up in tears, heart aching at this indifference. “You haven’t been to any of them, Hajime. Not one.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, his frustration clearly boiling over. “What am I missing? Kids twirling for three minutes and twenty five seconds? It’s stupid, honestly.”

His mean and harsh words echoed in the silence of the room, a stark reminder of the widening chasm between you two.

“Hajime, how could you say that? She has worked very hard.” You said in disbelief.

Unbeknownst to both of you, a tiny figure stood outside the door, her heart shattering at her father’s words. Yuki, your little ballerina, had heard it all. The argument, her father’s indifference, your heartbreak. She clutched her ballet shoes to her chest, heart soaking the satin fabric.

The harsh words continued to fly between the two of you, voices rising in the quiet of the night.

“You’re being mean, Hajime.” You said, voice trembling with emotion.

“I don’t have time for this,” Iwaizumi retorted, his exhaustion seeping into his words. “I’m too tired to argue.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the room. As he made his way to the bathroom, the argument continued, both of your voices echoing off the cold tiles.

Meanwhile, Yuki had silently made her way downstairs. With a heavy heart and tear-streaked cheeks, she threw her beloved ballet shoes in the trash, a silent testament of her shattered dreams.

The morning after the storm was always the calmest. Iwaizumi woke up, his body aching from the previous night's argument. It was his day off, a chance for him to rest and recover. Despite the tension between the two of you, you greeted him with a kiss, almost like a silent promise that you would speak about it later.

"I'll make breakfast," Iwaizumi offered, hoping to ease the tension. You nodded, attention focused on preparing Yuki's bag for ballet class.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Yuki sitting at the table, her eyes devoid of their usual spark. Her small shoulders were slumped, her spirit seemingly crushed.

"Morning, Yuki," Iwaizumi said, his voice soft. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Yuki replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t help but notice the change in his daughter’s demeanor. Her usual bright and bubbly personality was replaced by a quiet sadness that seemed to weigh her down. He found it odd, considering she was usually excited about her ballet classes.

“You’re okay bub?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

But his question was met with silence. Yuki simply looked away, avoiding his gaze. He decided not to push her, instead focusing on preparing breakfast.

As he was cracking the eggs into a bowl, he heard your frantic voice from the other room. “Hajime, have you seen Yuki’s ballet shoes? I can’t find them anywhere. I swear they were here.”

He glanced at his daughter, but she was still avoiding his gaze. A sense of dread washed over him as he opened the trash bin to discard the eggshells. His heart sank as he saw the familiar pink ballet shoes nestled among the trash.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

She had heard it all.

Fuck.

Was it possible? It couldn’t be!

“Honey,” he called out, his voice strained. You rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. He pointed to the trash bin, the discarded ballet shoes. The sight of it, it felt like a dagger into your heart. You turned your gaze to your daughter, your eyes pleading for an explanation.

“Yuki, why did you throw your ballet shoes away?” You asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I hate ballet! It’s stupid!” Yuki yelled, her voice filled with a bitterness that was far too heavy for her young age.

The harsh words hung in the air, a painful echo of the argument from the previous night. Iwaizumi felt guilt, realizing the impact his words had on his daughter, he didn’t know what to do.

“Yuki! Don’t speak to your mother that way!” He yelled, trying to regain control of the situation.

But Yuki’s next words cut through the air like a knife, “I hate you, Dad!”

The room fell silent, the harsh words echoing off the walls. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Yuki, don’t say that…” You whispered, but it was too late.

Yuki was already running up the stairs, the slam of her bedroom door echoing through the house.

Iwaizumi stood there, stunned. The words ‘I hate you’ echoed in his mind, each repetition like a punch on the gut. He turned towards you, desperation in his eyes. “Fuck, I swear I didn’t mean any of it baby. I was just tired…” He said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Already making your way up to the stairs, attempts to coax your daughter out of her room, but you were only met with silence.

He was left alone in the kitchen, the guilt gnawing at him. He had hurt his daughter, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Has he destroyed his daughter dreams?

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated!

#haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu angst #angst no comfort #angst #hq angst #haikyuu dads #hq dads

1K notes · View notes

atyourmerci · 7 months

Text

⌘ enough for now ⌘

⌘ ⌘

Summary: You’re left in the WLF interrogation room to be punished when you meet your attacker, the girl you can’t stand and one of her groupies.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, !!VERY DARK MATERIAL!! Talks of death/dying & pain but nothing inflicted, dark!abby, dom!abby, sub!reader, slight dubcon but there is verbal consent given, reader is a cuck (i don’t wanna hear it), knife play, spanking, degradation, praise, bondage, fingering, strap (not used on reader), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, plot twist?? Idk either

A/N: soooo…hey. This has been sittin for a minute in the drafts. This is actually the first abby fic I ever wrote and I thought it might be a little much. Everyone can thank @littlegingerperson5 bc she encouraged me to share<333 I just want to give one more warning, this fic IS NOT FOR EVERYONE! it’s quite dark esp in the beginning. Just protect your peace and enter if you dare. Okay I love ya, enjoy this utter disgrace of literature.

⌘

Your eyes flutter open to a dark room, your head is pounding, body weak. The only thing you can make out was the ceiling lamp hanging over an old wooden desk. You attempt to touch the drip on your forehead when you realize your arms are bound to ropes hoisted from above you. You pull on the scratchy ropes to no avail, your body was too weak to fight.

You groan at the pain growing in your arms, there’s no telling how long you had been here for, days, hours, weeks maybe. As your memory starts to flood back in, the prison had not been as foreign as when you once woke. This was the WLF interrogation room. Most people never made it out of it alive, but you still couldn’t come to understand why they had brought you here, you were apart of them.

A guttural scream escapes you once more, the newfound motion caused your head wound to trail blood down your cheek. Before you can make your second attempt at freeing yourself there’s a rustling at the door, you watch as two figures make their way in, one much larger than the other. You blink repeatedly as they make their way closer, still foggy from previous impact.

When the figures make their way to the lit desk you make out your captures, Abby Anderson and Jill Meyers, one of the many girls that threw themselves onto Abigail at any chance she might fuck them. You had never returned the same sentiment, you despised her, she was arrogant, selfish, and got anything she wanted from women or the WLF. She hated you just as much, probably since you refused to beg for her to simply give you the honor of touching you.

“Abby what the fuck is this,” you bark with gritted teeth. Abby stands smugly with her large biceps crossed, smirking at your position, “awhh did you think you’d just get off the hook for running off on mission like that,” Jill snickers at Abby’s snarky remark. Your memories start rolling back before you can respond. “I just got lucky enough having the honor to… fix your behavior,” Abby says almost pouting, digging into you.

You can’t understand what to be angrier about, the fact that the WLF sent Abby here to reprimand you or that fact that she brought the little bitch Jill with her. Your face turns to Jill that plays with her long brunette hair, twirling it around her fingers, inching her crotch into Abby’s thigh like a gloried toddler with tits. “What’s the need for your slut of the night? Cant trust you wont touch me before you kill me?” You jab at Jill but remain in eye contact with Abby with every word.

“Watch it bitch! Jus’ mad she doesn’t want you,” Jill says grabbing onto Abby’s arm, bulging with veins as she begins heating up. “Don’t worry Jill she’s all yours…and every other girl in the next 15 mile radius,” you say with a light giggle. Abby never takes her eyes from you, her breath growing heavier with anger, “will you shut the fuck up already,” Abby barks.

With no denial of your statement Jill hits Abby’s arm with a scoff, “can we just kill her now, take me back to your room, I need you abs,” Jill cocks into lust as if I wasn’t listening, I guess it didn’t matter if I wouldn’t live to tell the story. Abby’s eyes remaining on your beaten body, covered in only ratty panties and a cut up tank top that barely covered your midriff. Her eyes clung to you, making her way up and down your revealed body with her eyes making you shutter. You were always attracted to the brute woman but shoved it far back into your mind once she opened her fucking mouth.

“Get on the table,” Abby demands not moving an inch. “What?” Jill says confused, probably unsure of who Abby is even talking to since her eyes remain on you but sensing you are bound at the wrist... could she have at least brought a whore with at a few brain cells to torture you. “Get on the fucking table Jill,” her eyes finally fall to Jill, picking her up with ease and throwing her on the old wooden desk, Jill gasps at the suddenness.

Within seconds Abby rips down Jill’s pants and panties in one foul swoop, then trails her hands up to her blouse to bring it up above her breast. Jill taken aback from Abby’s manhandling throws her head back in pleasure, moaning out and gripping into the blonde’s head. Abby advances her open mouth onto the girls’ cunt, lapping her tongue at her slit. “God, are you fucking serious!” You say in disgust, ignoring the way your thoughts roam to how good she looked taking control of Jills body effortlessly.

Abby grins up at you, tongue still deep into Jill, she lets out a huff of satisfaction. Jill was so pleased she gave no attention to how Abby glared at your body as she ate her out. She was enjoying this, watching your arms aimlessly tug at your restraints while Jill was sprawled out whorishly for her use.

You couldn’t help the aching pain that now grew in between your legs, begging for attention. Abby moves her head up from the girl’s cunt into a standing position and begins drilling her pointer and ring finger into her sopping folds. She looks up into your eyes, head slightly cocked upwards, slick wet on her chin with parted lips. A reluctant whimper escapes your mouth at her gaze. Your response causes Abby to grip her free hand onto the edge of the desk, licking her lips pleased.

Your body becomes restless, squirming around in your restraints, you bite into your bottom lip for some type of release. “God you’re such a whore,” Abby directs to you with a smug look, Jill moans out in the assumption its for her since the blonde continued to beat into her cunt. Another moan escapes from your mouth at her words, muffled enough by Jills screams.

Abby suddenly shifts her direction and rips her fingers out of Jill, instantly shoving them into the girl’s mouth. Once Jill had sucked the slick from Abby’s thick fingers, she trailed her fingers to her belt unbuckling it herself. “Get on your knees,” She demands, which Jill eagerly agrees to dropping herself onto the floor.

Abby unsheathes her long black strap, veins trailing up it, the sight causes you to gawk. Abby takes notice of your gaping mouth and shoots you a pleased smirk while grappling the brunette’s hair roughly, shoving her cock into her mouth suddenly.

The ache growing in your pussy begs for release, you grip them tightly to create friction that sends your head back in pleasure, whimpers flowing out of your needy throat. A trail of slick begins trailing down your dirty thighs. “Not even touching you and your cunt’s that wet, s’fucking pathetic,” she says huskily. Your eyes are directed back to her, watching her biceps flex in Jill’s hair as she fucks into her mouth. You hear Jill begin to gag on Abby’s length as she relentless drills into her, like nothing would be enough to fulfill her needs. “Abby-“Jill muffles out in chokes in attempt to regain her attention.

Whimpers continue to spew out as you eagerly rub your thighs needing her touch. “Needy little slut, aren’t you?” Abby growls at you, ignoring Jills gags. “Abby, it hurts!” Jill blurts out ultimately regaining breath. Abby finally directs her attention down to the fucked-out brunette, “what is your fucking problem?” Abby says gripping her neck with her strong hand, now hovering over her. “C-can you just fuck me,” Jill says meekly under her grasp.

“You’re pissing me off, go back to the room ill deal with you later,” she unleashes her grasp on Jill. She scoffs at Abby’s dismissal as she pulls up her pants, throwing her blouse back on in an exaggerated sigh and huffing her way out like a spoiled brat. Abby had treated her like shit, but your pussy begged for her sole attention.

As the door slams shut Abby makes her way to your hanging body, cunt throbbing with slick. She begins circling around you slowly, “and what am I going to do with you huh?” she parks her body in front of you, inches away from your sweaty face. “Pathetic little girl, dripping down your thighs watching me fuck Jill,” her breath so close causes the hair on your body to spike.

Without warning she lays a slap onto your pulsing cunt that makes you yelp. She rubs your clothed pussy before laying another smack onto it, this time causing a pleasurable moan to discharge. “Abby please-” you beg her with weary eyes. “No… you don’t get to rush this,” she says with no remorse.

Her eyes are dark. Pitch fucking black. Like something had taken over her that you’ve never seen. Sure, you’ve seen her kill people with her bare hands, ripping people open at the tips of her fingers, but she had never seemed this menacing, this deranged. You looked like her next victim, and maybe you were ready for that, as long as she showed you a blissful summit before tearing your throat out.

She begins to pace around you again, slower, inching her eyes up your body, completely at her disposal. Trailing her fingertips gently down like she was deciding where she wanted you first, where she could inflict pain first that would keep you alive long enough for her full amusement. If you died too quickly that wouldn’t be fun for her, would it?

“wh-what are you going to do to me,” you barely mutter out as she’s behind you. You can’t see her, but you feel her gaze, the heat of her piercing into your skin without the need to even feel her. She doesn’t respond at first, enjoying the sight of you squirming under her touch-less gaze. The only noise in the room was the enthralled whimpers that couldn’t seem to be held back- until it was penetrated by the merciless breathy laugh from your capture.

You froze when that breathe was so close to the shell of your ear that it sent goosebumps flying down your figure, “I just want to play with you.” You bite your lip to hold back any reaction, but it couldn’t stop the subconscious tightening of your thighs in search of release.

And she saw it.

She began agonizingly dragging her calloused fingers up the tops of your thighs, inching towards your clothed core, still breathing deeply in your ear. Your legs were shaking restlessly, growing tired of pressing so harshly. “That’s what you want, hmm?” she taunts, as her fingers roam, catching the hem of your panties but never allowing you the satisfaction of pleasure.

“You want to get played with, like a toy? That’s what you want.” She answers the question for you, as you didn’t give her any sense of a verbal response.

“You don’t play nice with others,” bitchy response, but you were hoping she’d get on with punishing you for it. Any touch would be better than this, the lack of her. Her large hand darts to your core, handling you in her grasp, the suddenness mixed with the intensity sent your body flying back into her chest as she stabilized your body with her free hand gripped onto your breast, her fingers pinching at your hardened bud. She was so fucking close now, the heat of her transferring into your skin.

“Never said I did.” Her breath had increased in speed, just as affected by having you in this way. There were no words that could formulate as you both heaved, your body subconsciously grinding into her hand as a groan rang in your ear, finally allowing herself to inform you how badly she needed this, needed you, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

After aimlessly grinding into her hand, she finally began to pulse the edge of her palm start into your swollen clit, eliciting a guttural moan from your throat. As your moans quickened, her speed did as well. She pushed her body further into you, like she needed to be as close as she could get.

“Do you want this?” she says in almost a whisper, barely heard over the desperation in your voice. Your eyes dart open with her sentiment, a branch, an exit door, a way out. You should say no, tell her to stop fucking with you and get it over with, put an end to your suffering.

“Y-yes,” blurts out, you didn’t command the response rather your body spoke for you.

Her hand rips out of its grip on your pulsing cunt that provokes a whine of neediness from you. You feel her reach from behind her, and a click of a switchblade unclasping from the safety of its cover.

Fuck.

The hand adorned to your red bud darts back down to your panties, she hooks her fingers under and pulls them up harshly as she uses her other hand to slice them clean off your body, falling to your feet on the cold floor. A relieved breath falls from your throat. Her free hand now meets the back of your neck to stabilize you so she can watch you from below her.

She begins dragging the sharp tip of the blade from the bottom of your lip down, achingly slow, any sudden movement risking the consequences of penetrating your skin. She gets to your navel when she realizes your stillness, your strategy to walk out of here with no other wounds that you possibly came in with.

She lets out a smug sigh at your determination while she circles your stomach with the tip, “tell me why I shouldn’t mark that pretty tummy right now.” Your breath hitches, eyes widening. “I-I,” you attempt to muster up any plea for your life to no avail. At your pathetic attempt she tightens her grip on your neck, bringing your ear closer to her lips, “give me one reason.”

All morals leave you, the distain you had for the brute woman vanishing in mere seconds. “You fucking won okay…y- you have me. Fuck me like you fuck your whores.”

Pathetic? Absolutely. But a lie? No. Your body craved her, it always had, your mind wouldn’t let you have her. That’s when the tip began its decent down to the top of your cunt, inching down so close you’d accepted that you would get off on the simple touch of the shiny dagger on your swollen clit.

Your body tensed as the tip was so close to your clit if you would’ve breathed too harshly you could’ve done it yourself when you she darted her dagger clad palm above your head, slicing down the ropes holding you hostage.

Your body came tumbling down, crashing weakly onto the cold cement. While she had cut you loose the ropes still bound you at the wrist. She picked your body up gently, strangely kind, as if she was not here enforcing your demise. She carefully walked you to the wooden table, placing you where Jill had been, minutes, hours? ago. Time had left your senses with the connection to the wound now blood-dried on your forehead.

Your legs subconsciously opened for her, bottoms of your feet placed down on the cracked wood. She hovered over you, bringing her hands to either side of your face, closing in on you. For a moment she just watched you, a glimmer of almost curiosity in her eyes as you watched her.

Neither of you spoke, she was the one calling the shots but she just…looked at you, watched as you waited for her command, but it never came. She was frozen over your gaze.

“Kiss me.” You command her. It was a shot in the dark, a wild assumption, but you had to try.

A puzzled look contorts her face, “what?” It landed. She never kissed Jill, and definitely not you. She could kill, she could fuck, but she couldn’t handle the sense of connectedness, vulnerability.

“You know what I said,” you were getting head strong at this point, but you had already cracked her, the true light pooling over you wordlessly. “No.” She says in a breathy scoff, still unmoving from her stance, still frozen from after she placed you.

It was only long shot but your body made it for you, using the strength your elbows still had to hoist yourself up, so close to her face you could feel her breath falter above you. Her eyes trailing between your eyes and lips. “Kiss me.” You repeat yourself.

In seconds her walls break around her as her lips meet yours, hungry, unsatisfied, as if she never allowed herself the pleasure of true intimacy. One of her hands came up to cup your cheek as the other met the small of your back to support you while your arms are still bound at the wrist, in between your thighs uselessly.

Her hands only stray for a second to release your aching wrist, but her lips never left yours, she let herself have it, and now she couldn’t get enough. She would have Swallowed you whole if you would have let her.

As you were sat at the edge of the table, both of her hands met your back, pulling you as close as she could get to you. Your hands were finally able to touch the warmth of her, the scars that littered her skin, the lines and definition of her arms, the veins in her hands. You allowed yourself to roam every inch of her, while you gave her the time to indulge your mouth.

Her hand snaked from your back to your still throbbing core, only intensified by the withheld touch of her. When her calloused fingers met your clit for the first time your mouth gaped at the sensation of relief. Allowing her tongue to enter as you moaned out for her.

She couldn’t pace herself, rubbing quick circles around your puffy clit, your whimpers causing moans to slip out of her own mouth and into yours. Your legs were already shaking, nearing an early climax.

She brought you to the edge without letting you finish, moving her fingers down your slit, gliding easily with the pent up slick she had coaxed out of you. “Abby please-“

Her mouth still agape she begin to toy with your fluttering hole, “not yet,” she heaves out. She plunged her ring and middle finger deep inside you, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing around her.

“Fuck!” You scream out, latching onto her broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. “I know…I know,” she coos.

While her kisses came gently…her fingers did not. She drove them as deep as she could, making sure the palm of her hand left pressure on the swelling of your clit. Your body was giving out, you tried hold yourself up by digging your nails into her shoulders but in the state you were in, it wasn’t going to last much longer.

As your hands begun to waver, losing grip she lowered your back onto the table, never leaving your lips as she continued to stretch you out. You were finally ready to let go, give up complete control to your capture.

“A-abby I’m c-close I don’t-“ you began to breath out when she stops your pathetic attempts to warn her. “It’s okay pretty, cum on my fingers.”

Her words forced you to the edge, shaking under her while she watched you. As you rode out the bliss of your climax she continued to coax you through it with ‘there you go’ and ‘doing so good for me’. You were completely under her spell.

When she finally slowed the pace of her fingers, you lied there trying to regain your breath. Your body was completely spent, bruised, abused in more ways than one. You stared at her doe-eyed in adoration to your attacker. “Can I-“ you began to speak, seeking out the chance to return the sentiment, let her feel the same bliss she granted you.

She shook her head with finality. “That’s enough for now.”

Taglist: Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @littlemisslexapro55555

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby tlou #sub abby #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x reader #dom abby anderson

903 notes · View notes

lxndonorris · 6 months

Text

sleeping naked - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smutish, light touching as a professional naked sleeper, Max convinced you to try it out as well x word count: 1100+ taglist: @game-set-canet requested by anon :) if you have any request, let me feel free to talk to me. gif by me.

The quiet hum of the night envelopes the room as you and your boyfriend Max head to your bedroom to settle into bed after a long day together. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm ambiance, illuminating the contours of Max's handsome face as he stands beside you.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Max suggests something that catches you off guard.

"Hey, how about we try sleeping completely naked tonight?"

You blink in surprise, feeling a flush of warmth creeping up your cheeks.

The idea is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking—a bold departure from your usual routine. Well, for Max, it isn't that unusual; he does it every now and then. Still, there is something tempting about the prospect of shedding all inhibitions and embracing the intimacy of bare skin against bare skin.

"Are you sure?" You ask, your voice tings with uncertainty.

Max flashes you a reassuring smile; his confidence infectious. "Trust me, it will be liberating. Plus, it's something new and exciting to try together."

With a tentative nod, you agree, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you strip away the layers of clothing, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, exposed and raw in the dim light of your bedroom.

But as Max wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his naked form, all doubts melt away. There is a primal intimacy to that embrace, a connection forged through the simple act of being ourselves to each other.

As you gaze upon Max's naked form, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtain, you can't help but feel a surge of admiration. Taking a step back, you let your eyes wander all over him.

Normally, you are accustomed to seeing him dressed in plain shirts or the vibrant Red Bull racing gear, his athletic physique hinted at beneath the fabric. But now, with nothing but his bare skin on display, he exudes a newfound sense of confidence and freedom.

There is a raw allure to him—a magnetic pull that draws you in with an intensity you can't ignore. His muscles ripple beneath the moon-kissed skin, every contour and curve a testament to his strength and dedication. And yet, there is a vulnerability to him as well, a raw honesty that leaves you breathless.

Gone is the facade of the racing driver, replaced by the unfiltered essence of the man you love. In this moment, he is more than just Max; he is a revelation, a glimpse into the depths of his soul laid bare for you to behold.

As he catches your gaze, a knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"You're beautiful." His rough voice sounds a little deeper, huskier, carrying the love he feels for you.

Your entire body flushes with color, and your skin rapidly heats up. "Thank you." You breathe deeply.

With a newfound sense of courage, you reach out to trace the lines of his body with trembling fingers, marveling at the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

He is a masterpiece, a work of art sculpted by time and experience, and you feel privileged to witness him in all his naked glory.

Then, Max's eyes roam over your body again, tracing the curves with a reverence that takes your breath away.

His gaze is like a caress, tender and adoring, as if he is committing every inch of you to memory. There is no judgment in his eyes, only a deep appreciation for the woman standing before him.

"Absolutely stunning," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a fire of desire that burns hot and fierce. You step closer to him again, closing the distance between you until your bodies are just inches apart.

Resting your hand on his chest, you feel the warmth of Max's skin beneath it. His skin is smooth beneath your touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a comforting melody against your palm.

With a contented sigh, Max let out a low growl of happiness, his eyes meeting yours with a playful sparkle. The sound sends a shiver of excitement down your back.

As you climb into bed, pulling the sheets up to cover your lower halves, you relish the sensation of your torsos being exposed to each other. There is an undeniable intimacy in the simplicity of your intertwined bodies.

Max leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch tender and affectionate. "Thank you for trying this out with me," he murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It's actually pretty good." A coy smile plays on your lips. "I could get used to this." You smile, tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Me too." His gaze softens, and he leans in again to press a tender kiss on your lips.

The sensation of Max's fingertips gliding over your skin sends shivers down your spine, each touch a delicate caress. You embrace the way he moves with such care and mindfulness, as if every stroke is a silent delcaration of his love.

Unable to resist, you reach out to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the rugged outline of his jawline, reveling in the texture of his stubble against your skin. It sends a tingling sensation through you, but it is a sensation you welcome, a reminder of the raw masculinity that defines him.

Then, Max's fingers graze the skin of your shoulders, and he pauses, his touch lingering over a spot on your arm.

What's this?" He asks, his voice tinging with curiosity.

You glance down, following his gaze to the tattoo adorning your skin—a small emblem commemorating his third championship win. A surge of pride swells within you as you recall the exhilaration of that moment, the joy etched into Max's face as he stood victorious on the podium.

"It's for you," you explain, a shy smile playing on your lips. "To celebrate your incredible achievements." You got it just a few days ago, when he was racing in Saudi Arabia.

Max's eyes sparkle with delight, and he pulls you closer, pressing a fervent kiss to the tattoo.

"You're amazing, you know that?" He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his affection. You cocoon yourselves beneath the sheets, your bodies entwined as you lay face-to-face, lost in the intimacy of the moment.

His lips find yours once more, a gentle caress that speaks volumes of his love.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smutish #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n

1K notes · View notes

nysrage · 10 months

Text

VIEWS, onyankopon.

onyankopon loved a good view. especially when it was you, laid across your shared bed, freshly waxed, oiled up and in all your glory. curves and dips on full display as your sunset lamp embraced your skin lovingly. your body it’s own golden hour even in the darkest of night. ony especially loved the view of your two toned lips as kept your legs spread and ankles high to keep you open for him. fingers running through your glistening slit as your whimpers and moans bounced of the wall. fingers circling teasingly around that clenching hole of yours, leaking out slick heavily wanting something.. anything to fill that empty feeling within you. “mm, look at the pretty pussy..”

“onyaa— please” hips bucking up against his fingers, seeking any friction that’ll finally send you over that edge. ony’s chain glimmers in the light eyes darting around your face with his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth as he takes you in. all fucked out, lash set clumped together from your watering eyes, lips red and swollen from biting down on them so much, and body trembling, pent up and ready to burst any second now. he loved getting you like this, the views were always the best. “want me to play with that pussy?” nodding eagerly as he gives you a cheeky smile, thrusting those thick fingers into you with ease. “mmm, yess!” filling you up nicely and pulling more slick out of you by the second. fingers pistoning into you at a steady pace, pulling some of that nastiest sounds out of you as your walls clenched and molded around his fingers. “listen to that pretty pussy.”

those long fingers now curling into those gummy walls, hitting that spot deep in your belly. ony’s deep voice still talking all the slick he could out of you as you watched his figured on the wall. toned body closing in on yours. walls swelling around his fingers, which were pumping like a steady beat inside of you. “mhm, give it to me. cum for me mama.” you legs trembling as spurts of slick gush out of you, “oh m-my godd papaa!” repeating the same few words over and over, while ony dove face first into your soaked folds. lapping at the mess you made hungrily, and sucking at that clit to pull more out of you. reeling back to look at you as if he’d created his own masterpiece.

#nys works.ᐟ ᥫ᭡#black writers #no minors please #aot x black!reader #aot x chubby reader #onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon #aot onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x reader #ony x black reader #onyankopon x chubby reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x black reader

1K notes · View notes

tvickiesims · 7 months

Text

4t2 Seasonal Trees Collection (Giant)

Some of you asked me about this and I finally delivered! 🥳

This is a collection of 4t2 trees converted from Sims 4 in original textures and made seasonal. It is meant as an add-on to my 4t2 Default Replacement Flora because I didn't include trees already available there.

Key features:

66 Maxis seasonal trees

2 cc palms by Max20 (from his Poolside Lounge Pack)

6 dead trees (non seasonal but get snowy in winter)

5 tree lights (separate objects (lamps, found in lights-misc), show up in hood view)

Seasonal recolors for a lot of trees

Hood view enabled

Quarter tile placeable

Smoothed out meshes

Undersides for leaves

As always, I tried to follow real-life seasonness of plants but sometimes had fun with some states and textures, don't take it too seriously. Seasonal states are not pictured on purpose so you could discover them yourself, in their full glory.

Tree lights at night:

I put my whole heart and soul into these conversions and I hope they'll bring you joy as they do to me ☺️

@cora626 made a great video showcasing all of these trees, check it out here!

Compressed, clearly labeled, picture included.

Download at GoogleDrive

_ _ _

UPDATE 26/03/2024

Made Dead Hawthorn smaller and reset it's footprint (expanding it was a bad idea and the game was struggling), added 3 new trees - 2 Joshua Trees and a Huge Cactus. The archive was updated but if you only need the updated + new trees - they are here.

#bytvickiesims #plants by tvickiesims #4t2 conversion #trees #4t2 trees #seasonal trees #seasonal plants #seasonal 4t2 trees

940 notes · View notes

foreingersgod · 4 months

Text

Tired . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

A/N: hey everyone, felt a lot better today so i thought i’d write a quick little fic before getting back to requests! enjoy <3

nothing beat being in your girlfriends arms at the end of a long day. when you were tired and irritated and just overall annoyed with the world, the only thing you wanted to do was to drag emily to bed. she was the one thing that made you feel relaxed at the end of the day, made all of your worries disappear.

no matter the time, no matter the day, you’d wait up for emily every single night. you found out very quickly that you couldn’t sleep without her. once you had moved in together and started sharing the same bed, you realized how increasingly difficult it became to sleep alone. it became your little tradition when she was away at practice or staying late after a game, that you’d wait up for her in bed until she got home.

tonight was no exception. emily had a particularly long practice today and you had just gotten off of work just a few hours ago. you had come home, keys and purse tossed carelessly into the ceramic bowl next to the door. unnecessarily uncomfortable high heels slid off your feet and into their designated spot on the mudroom rug. your feet ached and your back was sore and all you wanted to do was to get in bed and fall asleep, your girlfriends arms wrapped around you. but the dimly lit room and the thickness of silence that hung over your home told you that you’d have to wait.

you dragged yourself up the stairwell and into your bedroom. the sheets were still crisp, tucked neatly under the mattress, pillows propped perfectly upwards on either side. emily’s shoes and discarded jeans and hoodies laid scattered on the floor from when she was almost late this morning, you had been too tired to take care of them either. it felt almost sad, when you stepped onto the plush carpet, yet homey at the same time. the house always felt empty when she was missing. discarding your blouse and pants, underwear and bra following, you walked into the connecting bathroom for a much needed shower. partially to wash the grime and sweat from the day, but also to keep you distracted until emily arrived home.

the mattress was stiff underneath your body when you finally crawled into bed for the night. the shower had done little to soothe the ache in your body that longed for your girlfriend. A cool breeze snuck past the linen of your bedroom curtains, air seeping into the walls. the sudden sensation causing you to pull the thick duvet of your bed up over your shoulders, tucking your chin into the fabric. it was about 11:30 pm and you were still up, tossing and turning impatiently.

moments passed as you lay in the dark restlessly, eyelids drooping with the need to sleep, when suddenly you heard the lock of your front door. you heard the key, the twist of the lock, the hinges creaking as the door slowly opened downstairs. heavy footsteps followed, instantly alerting you that emily had finally made it home. you heard her set her stuff down, next yours like it always was, before hearing her pad up the stairs. her steps were slow and firm as she got closer to the bedroom.

finally, the door slowly opened to reveal her in all her glory, the hallway light illuminating her features. there was a layer of sweat that lingered on her forehead, her loose hairs sticking to them. her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were barley open similarly to yours. she looked absolutely beat yet somehow still irresistible as ever. you sat up in bed as you watched her clamber into the room, feet dragging behind her. you reached over next to you to switch on your lamp to get a better look of your girl.

“hey, baby” you yawned, sheets falling off your shoulders as you rested your back against the head board “you’re home!”

she finally looked at you, lips tugging into the cheesiest grin when she realized you were up. she was on her side of the bed now. you could see, through the low lights, her muscles flexing as she pulled her shirt over her head to change into something more comfortable.

“yea,” her voice dissipated as she headed into the bathroom, wanting to take out her hair and wash her face so she could come back to you “i didn’t expect to be so late, m’sorry. you didn’t have to wait up for me, i know you had a long shift today”

“i didn’t mind, plus you know i can’t sleep without you” you spoke through the wall, over the noise of the faucet running.

she said nothing in return, instead walking out, a lazy smirk plastered on her face “can’t sleep without me huh?”

finally, after what felt like years, she crawled into bed next to you. her body weight sunk into the sheets, perfectly balancing out yours on the opposite side.

“jus’ missed y’too much” you managed to mumble out, your body recognizing emily’s presence and preparing to shut down for the night.

without hesitation, emily’s arms pulled you back down into the bed, forcing your back to rest against the pillows once again. her body was lower than yours intentionally so she could sprawl across you. she drew your body closed to her own, arms still wrapped around you tightly. you could feel her sigh deeply as she rested her head upon your chest. the soft, freshly washed skin of her face pressed into the bareness of your collarbone. not satisfied with how close you already were to her, she was now nuzzling her nose into your neck, breathing harshly to take in your full scent. to emily, you smelt like heaven.

“i missed you too, baby” she said into your chest. one of her legs hiked up over yours, draping across your thigh “and m’so tired…so so tired”

“get some sleep, em” you ran your fingers through her hair gently “i love you so much”

“mmm, i love you too” you both let yours eyes close as you placed a sweet kiss to the top of her head.

soft breathes could be heard throughout the room, an occasional snore would slip from emily’s lips every now and then. it was peaceful and content here in the room you shared, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #indiana fever #washington mystics #wlw imagine #wlw #lesbian #lesbian imagine #foreingersgod

633 notes · View notes