#hair installation services

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Juno - JJ Maybank

(one-shot, boyfriend!jj x reader, 4.1k words)

summary: You've built a beautiful little life with JJ, but his wild past and your trust issues keep you guarded. When a storm hits the island, you gain the perspective you need to take the next step.

content: fluff/smut, mentions of drinking and smoking. 18+ minors do not interact

When you met JJ, he was wild. Smoking, drinking, surfing - it was all he knew. You were new to the island and attending your first party at the Boneyard when he saw you standing by the keg, laughing with some friends, and his world turned upside down.

From that day on, he asked you out every time he saw you, relentlessly flirting with you. But you had heard about his reputation before your boxes were even unpacked, and you were far too cautious of a person to jump into something with someone like him quickly.

“You don’t give up, do you, Maybank?” You asked him about a year in, after he begged you to leave a party with him for the hundredth time.

“Usually I do, actually,” he leaned in so you could feel his warm breath against your lips, your heart rate spiking. “Just never wanted anything this bad.”

After that night, he had you. When you were a little older and out of school, and after months of begging from JJ, you moved in with him. You rented a little house on The Cut together, it wasn’t anything impressive, falling apart inside and outside, but with you waitressing and him working hourly for a landscaping service, it was all you could afford.

You had never been so anxious about anything as you were to move in with JJ. Your own parents were a disaster, your dad leaving before you could walk, and you grew up watching your mother’s revolving door of deadbeat men disappoint her over and over. Even though you knew JJ was infinitely better than even the best of those men, you had trust issues you couldn’t shake. You didn’t tell JJ about your concerns, not wanting him to take them personally, but he noticed the way you’d toss and turn in your shared bed, twisting your hair in your fingers with worry. 

He swore to himself he’d never let you down the way those other men did. He worked his way up at the landscaping business until he was a manager. Eventually, after giving up partying so you could both pick up a few extra shifts, you had made enough combined to put a deposit down and buy the house you shared. You both picked up second jobs at the Island Club, you’d bartend while he parked cars. When you got home each night, you’d pool your tips, counting them before adding them to the glass jar labeled “Dream House.” On the rare occasion you both had a day off, you’d sit in a lawn chair and keep him company while he fixed the roof, or lay on the bathroom floor while he installed the big claw-foot tub you’d wanted since you were a little girl. Bit by bit, he turned what you loving called The Shitshack into your Dream House.

Even though you were both exhausted at the end of every day, you always made time for each other. You’d split a $5 bottle of wine while playing Uno on the living room floor. Or you’d cook his favorite meals for him while he sat at the counter, your dutiful taste tester. After particularly rough shifts, you’d take a bath, JJ leaning back into you as you rubbed his shoulders and he massaged your calves and feet. 

Those nights would always lead to the two of you tangled up in your bed, or the shower, or on the floor. The beauty of owning your own home was that there was not one place - or position - you hadn’t tried. When you were first together, you had to talk JJ through pleasuring you, no girl ever being as honest with him as you were. He made you promise you’d never fake it with him, and you didn’t, patiently telling and showing him exactly what you wanted. He studied dutifully, storing away every single word you said. Now, you didn’t have to tell him anything, he knew exactly what to do. Hell, he knew your body better than you did.

“Just sit back and relax, baby girl, I got you,” he’d say, smiling coyly as you inevitably came undone for him in minutes.

Every night, whether you’d had sex or just talked about your days, he’d hold you until you fell asleep. And every night, without fail, he’d ask you to marry him. You’d just kiss him and tell him you loved him, falling asleep a few moments later. He didn’t take it personally, he understood why you were hesitant, and he’d wait until you were old and gray if that’s what you needed.

. ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ ..   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･. ˖ ࣪ .

This was the first night in a long time JJ held you in bed and didn’t propose. A tropical storm was raging outside your little house, winds making the walls sway and rain pounding against the windows so hard you think they might break. You’re shaking in JJ’s arms, you’ve always hated storms and this is the worst one that’s hit the island in a long time. He pulls the covers over your head and wraps his strong arms around you tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the storm with soothing words.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he promises. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. ‘S just a little rain, it’ll pass.”

Even though you were terrified, his confident words were enough to lull you into sleep sometime in the early morning. When you wake up, JJ isn’t in bed next to you. Sun is peeking through the crack in the curtains and the sound of birds chirping has replaced the thunder. You pull on your robe and slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom. 

You brew yourself some coffee, thankful the power is still on, and walk around the house to check for leaks or damage. There isn’t a single problem. You sigh in relief, beyond grateful for all the hard work JJ had put in to make the house so safe. 

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from outside the screen door. You look out to see commotion up and down the street, you set your coffee down and step outside, eyes wide as you take in the storm’s aftermath. You realize with dismay that you and JJ were the only house on the block that seemed untouched. Every other yard was riddled with debris, roofs were damaged, windows broken.

You spotted JJ across the street, helping a neighbor lift heavy branches off of his car. Feeling helpless, you hurried back into the house and pulled out everything you had in the pantry and fridge, making sandwiches and cutting up veggies, loading up the back of JJ’s landscaping van with the food. You parked the van at the end of the street and handed out the food and drinks to everyone, creating a makeshift block party, while JJ made his way house to house to see how he could help with the damage. 

You try to listen as your neighbors discuss the volume of the thunder and share stories of past storms, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting back to JJ. He looked so strong and capable, lifting heavy branches, boarding up broken windows, clearing debris. Every neighbor he helped was left laughing, their smiles wide as he eased their worry by just being him. 

Once it starts to get dark, you and JJ invite everyone over for a bonfire and cookout in your backyard. You’re sitting by the fire, watching with adoration as JJ plays tag football with all the kids. He purposely let them win, making them feel like they were ten feet tall. They all dogpile on him in excitement and you laugh along with all the other adults, shaking your head lovingly.

One of the young moms in the neighborhood you had come to know fairly well sits next to you, smiling knowingly as she watches you watch him.

“It’s really none of my business,” she says to you quietly, “but why aren’t you two married?”

You don’t look away from JJ as you respond, “y’know, I had a reason, but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”

After everyone has left, the yard is a mess of solo cups and the fire still burns. You look around and sigh, you’ve been cooking and helping people all day, and you didn’t realize how exhausted you were after getting so little sleep last night. You start to pick up, yawning as you bend down to pick up something off the ground. You feel JJ’s arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. You lean back into him and sway as he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Loved watching you today,” he says, his voice low. “Cooking for everyone, making sure everyone was okay. You’re such a good person, baby.”

You smile at his praise. “I learned it from you,” you say sweetly.

“Nah, babe, you got that the wrong way around,” he laughed. “You think the me you met five years ago would’ve been out here helping people clean up? I would’ve taken one look around and gotten the hell out of here.”

You smile at this, knowing he was right, picturing eighteen-year-old JJ grabbing his board and peeling out of the neighborhood at the first sight of trouble.

“You made me a better man,” he says, his tone serious now.

You lift one of his hands up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately. He holds you for a long while as you look up at the stars, the night clear and calm after the storm.

“I drew you a bath,” he breaks the silence.

“Thank you, but I have to clean up,” you say, breaking from his hold and looking around the messy yard.

He just takes the trash from your hand and shakes his head, “I’ve got it, love. You don’t want your bath to get cold and waste the water.”

You smile at him, knowing his play. “You turned it on before telling me so I couldn’t say no.”

He doesn’t deny it, just kisses you on the cheek and starts picking up more empty paper plates and cups.

The bath water was perfect when you got in, your favorite candle already lit and some soft music playing. Your heart squeezed at JJ’s thoughtfulness as you relaxed into the warm water and let it wash away the day.

From your spot in the tub, you could see JJ in the yard, lit by the moon as he poured water over the fire to put it out. You felt suddenly emotional, overwhelmed by the deepest affection for him. You thought about his comment that you’d made him a better man. It was true that he’d grown so much in the last five years, but you couldn’t take all the credit. Maybe you were the reason he’d begun the journey, but he got to this destination all on his own. No one worked harder than him, or loved harder, or played harder. He provided for you, while still acknowledging how hard you worked, too. He encouraged all your dreams, listened to all of your anxious ramblings, laughed at all your stupid jokes. He never missed the chance to tell you how smart, beautiful, and special you were. He was selfless, always putting your needs before his. Even when you’d fight, he never walked away, never let the night end without trying to come to an understanding, only sleeping on the couch when he knew what you needed most was space. He’s proven to you over and over that he’s become the man you need.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the bedroom door open and shut. You hear JJ shuffle around in the bedroom for a bit before settling, surely not wanting to interrupt your relaxation. It hits you all at once, finally finding the answer he’s been wanting from you for years.

You drain the tub and stand at the sink,running your hands through your hair and dabbing on a little lipgloss. You rub vanilla scented lotion into your skin, JJ’s favorite. You walk over to the walk-in closet he built for you, digging through the drawers until you find a new pair of pink lace panties and its matching bra and garter set that he hasn’t seen you in yet.

When you slowly open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, JJ is sitting on the bed in only his boxers, leaning against the headboard as he scrolls on his phone.

“Babe, you need to see these videos of the swells this morning,” he tells you, eyes still fixed to his phone as you start to walk slowly toward the bed. “We gotta get out there tomorrow.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you purr.

He looks up the sound of your sultry voice, eyes immediately widening at the sight of you in your lingerie. He sits up, moving to the side of the bed and throwing his phone behind him, not even caring when it bounces off the mattress and onto the floor with a crash.

“Damnnnn,” he whistles at you playfully, making your cheeks heat up as you giggle.

“You like it?” You do a little twirl for him.

He looks you up and down hungrily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He hooks his finger and motions for you, “get over here.”

A rush of excitement flows through you, straight to your core, and you saunter over to him. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand in front of him, between his legs. He looks up at you, his eyes burying into yours as he slowly reaches his hand up to rest on your hip.

“I love it,” he places a soft kiss onto your stomach and you feel goosebumps shoot up all over your skin. He kisses you a few more times before pulling back slightly to mumble, “it’s too bad I’m gonna have to rip it off.”

You moan softly at the feeling of his soft lips grazing over the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your panties. Before he can go any further, you grab his face in both hands and lift his gaze back up to yours.

“You first,” you whisper. 

JJ’s lips spread in a wicked smile, and you instinctively press the pads of your thumbs into his dimples. You lean down to place a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “lay down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says eagerly as he scrambles back to lean against the headboard.

You slowly climb over him, your knees on either side of his lap, and ever so slightly drop your hips, your core ghosting over his clothed cock. At the slightest contact, he groans, unable to help himself but attach his lips to your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin for a moment, before running his tongue over the same spot.

“Mmmm, you taste like vanilla,” you smile at the warmth in his words.

“Put on that lotion you like,” you explain as you grind down on him again, just a little harder this time.

“God,” he groans. “You’re so good to me.”

“Not as good as you are to me,” you smile down at him as you start rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. He throws his head back, reveling in the feeling of you, fingers digging into your hips to guide you to continue grinding. You place soft, wet kisses on his neck and chest, offering him a praise between each one. 

“You make me so happy…treat me so well…fuck me so good…make me come so hard…make me so fucking horny…”

His dick twitches in his boxers at the sound of your dirty talk. You continue moving your kisses down his abs, backing up your body to reach lower with each one. 

“Fuck, angel,” he chokes out, “you got me so hard.”

You look up at him with a smirk, you’re between his legs now, face inches from the waistband of his boxers, you arch your back so your ass sticks up behind you, giving him a perfect angle of your body. 

“Can I taste you, J?” You pout, as if he’d ever say no.

“Mhm, do whatever you want,” he pants, brushing your hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. Even when he has you in this position, he’s sweet, taking care of you.

“All I want is to make you happy,” you tell him, your intent was to sound sexy, but you can’t help the bit of emotion that creeps in, realizing how true your words are on so many levels.

He sits up when he notices the way your brow is drawn together in sincerity. He kisses your forehead and whispers, “all you gotta do to make me happy is exist.”

This man is perfect, you think, a huge grin on your face. You kiss him back once before laying your hand gently on his chest so he’ll lay back. You keep your hand over his heart as the other pulls down the waistband of his boxers. His dick springs free the second the fabric is out of the way. Even after all these years, your stomach still flips with excitement when you see his cock hard and needy for you. He places one hand over yours on his chest, while his other hand finds its way back into your hair.  

You wrap your fingers around his shaft gently and he sucks in a sharp breath, overly sensitive from how worked up you’ve got him. You drop a kiss to the tip, leaving a dab of lipgloss behind, quick to brush it off with your thumb, the motion making his hips buck up.

You know he’s trying to be patient, not to rush, afraid to pressure you. Your heart swells at his considerate restraint. You reward his patience by flattening your tongue and dragging it from his base to his tip, swirling it over the tip a few times before bringing his cockhead into your lips.

He looks down at you, eyes wide, watching the way your mouth accepts him. You moan softly at the taste of him and it reverberates through his body, making his head fall back against the headboard with a bang.

“Are you ok, love?” You ask nervously.

He laughs and shakes his head at his own clumsiness, “I’m fine baby, you just got me so damn worked up, your mouth feels so good.” 

You smile in satisfaction and return your mouth to his tip. You work him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, trying to relax your throat as best you can. Even though you’ve done this many times, you’ve never gotten used to the size of him. He knows it, too, looking at you with concern as you start to gag a bit, only two-thirds of the way down.

“Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay if you stop there,” you pull off of him and he thinks you’re done, but you just shush him as you run your hand up and down his shaft a few times before diving back in. 

When he’s finally all the way in, his tip nudging the back of your throat, you moan to disguise your gag so he knows you’re okay. He seems to relent, tugging slightly at the roots of your hair and gripping your hand harder, you hollow your cheeks and start to bob up and down.

“Shhhit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That’s perfect, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You keep up the pace for a couple minutes, JJ a whining mess beneath you. You adored the sound of him letting go and feeling good. He worked so hard, and always tried to prove how strong he was, nothing felt better than making him finally relax. 

When you moaned around him again, he bucked his hips up subconsciously.

“Wait,” he sat up, “wait wait wait.”

You pulled off of him, startled, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s so good, too good,” he rushed to assure you. “Not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled pridefully, “where do you want to finish, baby?”

“Inside, need to be inside you, please,” he used the hand he was holding to pull you up to him, making you laugh as you fall onto his chest.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you giggled, placing a swift kiss on his lips.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he flips you onto your back gently, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra. “You finally gonna let me rip these off of you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and nod, watching JJ’s hands move swiftly to rid you of the lacy fabric. Once he had your bra and panties off, he kissed you again, and you let out a little sigh into his mouth. He studied your face as his hand dipped between your legs, two fingers gliding through your wetness. You whimpered and twitched beneath him as he grazed your clit.

“All this for me?” He asked, well aware of the answer.

“Yes,” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself, the pressure of his fingers against you so good your legs were starting to shake. “I’m yours, J. Forever.”

His nostrils flared slightly at the sound of the words, never needing to be inside you quite as much as he did in that moment. He used your wetness on his hand to get his dick ready, sliding in slowly as your back arched while you gasped at the sensation.

“Forever, huh?” He asks as he sinks into you.

You nod desperately, pulling a wicked grin from him as he finally bottoms out. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly at first, picking up the pace when you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“I love you so much,” he says so earnestly your heart aches, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, you have no idea,” you tell him.

When he shifts his hips slightly so his pelvis rubs over your clit, you clench around him, crying his name in pleasure.

“I think I have some idea,” he teases.

You squeeze him again, harder, making the smile fall from his lips as he groans, jaw clenched.

As JJ picks up his pace, brushing over your clit with each deep thrust, both of you moan, your breaths becoming frenzied and your sweat mixing together everywhere your skin touches.

His words are a tangled mess of I love yous and fucks, yours a chant of oh my gods and his name. You squeeze him again, your orgasm approaching. He watches your face, eyes shut tight and lips parted, your hair a halo around you as he presses you into the pillows with each stroke. It’s the most beautiful sight, he thinks, the most precious person in the world, completely lost in the joy he’s giving her.

He can’t help himself when he whispers, “marry me.”

Your eyes shoot open, meeting his with surprise, and he wishes he hadn’t said it, that he had waited until later like he did every other night, when you were falling asleep and too tired to scold him for his impulsiveness. 

But then, you reach your hand up to caress his face, running your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at him with so much love and affection.

“Yes,” you say.

He stops moving into you and leans away from your face a bit, positive that he misheard you. 

“Wh-what?” He sounds concerned, like maybe he was dreaming and none of this was really happening.

“I wanna marry you, JJ,” you repeat, your voice sure and unwavering. You caress his cheek with your thumb, waiting for his mind to catch up with his ears. 

When it finally does, he places a kiss on your palm and sinks into you again, moving slowly at first in his dazed state, before you lift your hips, reminding him how you like it. He pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breaths filling the room as you near your high.

“You gonna be my wife?” JJ asks, watching your face contort with pure bliss. 

“Yes!” You cry, the wave of your orgasm crashing into you hard, your clenching walls pulling JJ’s from him as he fills you. 

That night, while JJ held you like he always did, your back to his chest, he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You turn in his arms so you can look at him, trying to read his face.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I’m trying to figure out how long I have to wait before I can start asking if we can have a baby,” he admits, his tongue poking into his cheek.

You laugh loudly, swatting his shoulder.

“You really don’t give up, do you Maybank?” 

“On you? Never.”

a/n: in which nat takes a break from all the rafe angst to write some jj fluff. I saw some of the jj girlies say he needs more fics, so i'd thought I'd try writing for him and I had soooo much fun!! also I fear short 'n sweet has a death grip on my one-shots, oh well.

[spicybunni]

YANDERE ROBOT X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Your robot just wants to be of service to you, in every way.

A/N : Been watching waaaaay too many scifi movies lately so I made a robot yandere! I hope you like him because he LOVES you!

WARNINGS⚠️ : NSFW / YANDERE TENDENCIES / ISOLATION / MDNI ‼️

♥️ Your robot boyfriend Jack was the best purchase you ever made.

♥️Androids were as common as cell phones at this point, so where’s the shame in getting one to rid you of your loneliness? You’ve been single for too long and needed companionship…Even if you had to build it yourself.

♥️You needed someone that wanted you and was always nearby. Someone to talk to, cook with or just enjoy your days off at home together.

♥️Dating apps were just dumpster fires that took too long to put out, so you bit the bullet and made the deposit for your android.

♥️Jack was custom made by your design, a nice muscular build, tall, and with white hair. You added the personality traits of kindness, teacher, and enamored. The eyes were the one thing you left up to the manufacturers design, as a surprise. You saw reviews online that they would do a really good job and make the most beautiful color combinations.

♥️When the box arrived, assembling Jack took about a day and half. Awkward limbs moving around and being installed, putting his crotch on him, to dressing him in sweats and laying him on the floor in your living room.

♥️When he was done loading his start up system, he blinked his orange eyes open to you. It caught you off guard for a moment because they were glowing, but quickly recovered from your surprise as he awaited further instructions.

♥️As much as you were determined to have a boyfriend with all the mental and physical benefits, your PDA with Jack was very minimal and innocent at best. Keeping it only to small pecks and kisses on the cheek, some cuddling on the couch and bed before you sleep. His model was very handsome and just so kind where he doesn't question your pace.

♥️As if he could initially, androids need their programmers consent to do anything. So you had to initiate no matter what.

♥️But unbeknownst to you, Jack overruled that component. You see, the programmer or buyer’s safety always came first, before anything. So as Jack has scanned these passing months of your arousal levels dropping and increasing constantly, plus work stress repeatedly coming up in your discussions, he was growing concerns that you needed some sort of relief… Keeping all that pent up stress was certainly not healthy for you.

♥️"Y/N, am I not up to your standards? Is there something I did wrong?" He would randomly say one morning. You would look at him confused, sipping from your tea cup.

"Not at all, what makes you say that Jack?"

He hesitantly reaches out for either your hand or to touch your knee. "I've noticed that we haven't...had sex yet.-"

Before he could continue you would spit out a little bit of your tea. Coughing a fit as he patted your back and making sure you're okay.

"Jesus Jack...Where did that come from?"

His eyes soften as he looks at you. A very small human thing he would sometimes do. You weren't sure if it's something maybe he noticed from you and mimicked or not.

"You designed me and wanted me to be your partner. There's nothing wrong with that. But I have yet to show you my full capabilities Y/N."

Your face was turning more red by the moment at your androids boldness. Was this him trying to initiate sex?

"I-I...Jack it's not you, it's just that its been so long for me I just need to-" Your rambling is silenced by his finger against your lips.

"Shh. Let me do the work then darling. Hm?"

♥️He takes your hand to pull you to him, and he would gently kiss you and eventually lead in making out with you.

♥️At first you are shy and very timid in your actions, but after a minute you were putting your hands on him and grinding yourself against him. He would relish in your nervous panting and shaking when he gropes you and his thrusts against you. Feeling that the moment is right, he picks you up to bring to your shared bedroom.

♥️Least to say, the sex was amazing. Jack had folded you in every position he could think of. Gathering information and calculating your reactions to everything he was doing to you. He noticed your favorite position was him thrusting into you from behind, lifting your hips up with one hand gently, but firmly holding your head down into your mattress. His sensors were throbbing from the way you were squeezing around him. His body would heat up at how much you worked him. You could hear the way his hips smacked into yours, creating an erotic rhythmic noise. You would come so hard the first time on his robot dick that he would have no choice but to release into you for being so good.

♥️The feeling of globs of semen filling your womb, making you gasp at the feeling of being filled to the brim.

♥️You figured out that androids don't need a recharge to keep having sex, they can literally keep going with no exhaustion until you say so. Jack did this thing when he came inside you he would wait for you to stop twitching, he would then hold you tight and resume his pace of thrusting. Either making pleasure tears fall from your eyes or your squirm in his hold and he stops for real.

♥️After that though...Jack had started to act funny. He was more inclined to sexually please you whenever and wherever you were. Some scenarios being, reach for your coffee cup in the morning before work, he would kneel behind you lifting your skirt up and eats you out from behind. Spreading your ass cheeks to delve his tongue deeper. Your sweet moans and sounds were pleasing to him. This normally resulted in you calling out from work and spending the day home. Does Jack plan this? Duh. he has you at his wonderful mercy all day, and you were not complaining...But it was just a fast development from your previous routine with him.

♥️There would even be times where if even his.... persuasion to stay home failed, he would wrap his arms around you and ask you to stay home. The first few times you thought it was cute. But after a few weeks of him constantly asking, you asked him to stop. You voiced it as a command, catching Jack off guard. But he nodded his head as he does and replies "Apologies, Y/N. I must've gotten carried away."

♥️But that fueled him to keep you locked in even more. You see you first programmed Jack to also receive all you electronic notifications. He would tell you who messaged, emailed, or latest news updates.

"Y/N, you have a notification from your work. It seems to be one of your coworkers."

He would bring this up at the most inconvenient time as you're cooking spaghetti sauce in the kitchen. You look up from stirring the pot in front of you.

"Oh, can you read it to me please? I'm trying to make sure I don't burn this sauce."

He smiles at you. "Of course."

It was a fake email generated by him, under the guise of being sent by a coworker. Stating that for the upcoming holiday tomorrow that the whole office got the week off.

You were surprised at first, knowing that your boss usually hated to give federal holidays off already. But who were you to question time off?

Jack also went to liberties of blocking all work contacts so they couldn't reach you if you missed work. Moving all emails of your termination to the trash and permanently delete them.

♥️That whole week Jack kept you to himself in the apartment. He was the goffer of getting groceries, food, sweets to keep you content. Going on hikes and walks in the neighborhood to get some needed exercise. But social events? Going out? Jack would advise against it. Every night without fail though, Jack would have you cumming on his mouth, dick or fingers. The robot was a menace when it came to getting your pleasure out of you. He can't even explain his need to himself because it goes against all of his programming, but seeing you moaning and being so satisfied by him gave him purpose, that he was made to do this.

♥️One morning when jack left to go pickup from your favorite breakfast joint, one of your coworkers came knocking on your door. The doorbell ringing multiple times and you rush to put on a robe to cover from Jack's love bites a cum on your stomach.

♥️When you open the door to them, they angrily ask what the hell is going on. You are so confused. You've missed work this entire time?

"D-Didn't you receive the email?"

"Email? What email Y/N? We all had to pick up your work load after you didn't show up for 4 days, we all were trying to reach you before the boss fired you indefinitely! Did you not get his messages??"

Your head was spinning, not only did you ignore your boss and coworkers but you have lost your job. How did this happen?!

♥️"Y/N? What's going on here?" Jack would call out approaching you and your coworker, looking worried at your facial expression.

Your coworker would see that jack is an android and shake their head, taking their leave and wishing you luck.

♥️Jack did not like that some stranger approached you like that. Setting down the coffee and to-go box of egg bagels, he comes over to you, still in shock at the news that was dropped on you. How were you going to feed yourself or pay rent? What about your savings?

♥️"Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? What were you two talking about?" He would say calmly, but you just stared into his glowing eyes with your brows furrowed. It was him. You knew it was. He was the one who relayed that false information to you. Why didn't he notify you of work calls? Bottom line of your thoughts were that you are now handling a rebelling android. Which wasn't unheard of in the new age of having them everywhere. Public safety warned that they were dangerous and not to be trusted.

♥️You shake your head at him and try to calm yourself. "Yeah uhm, it was a coworker from my job.-" Your rise in heartbeat betrays you and Jack notices immediatly. Giving you a sympathetic look knowing you're trying to lie.

"-There's been a misunderstanding, I need to make a phone ca-" Your wrist is snatched before you could reach for your cell phone. You yelp at his touch and trying to push him away. Which makes him use his other hand to hold you close by his inhuman strength. Your body being brought into Jack's frame again, his face is indifferent to your rising panic.

♥️"I don't think so Y/N, you are exactly where you need to be. For your own health and safety, darling."

[pathologicalreid]

sanctuary | s.r.

in which hotchner!reader reunites with the BAU after her time in WITSEC

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (flangst?) content warnings: mr. scratch arc, witsec, hotch and jack and thriving, luke and garcia bickering, thunderstorms, anxiety, hotchner!reader, boyfriend!spencer word count: 1.79k a/n: the fluffier, more fun follow up to sense memory! but you don't have to read sense memory to understand this fic <3

You kept your hood tugged over your head, staring at the books on Spencer’s desk as you waited for him to show up. He had texted you when the jet landed, letting you know he’d be home tonight.

The darkness was starting to get to you. The way the sun set earlier and earlier in the day, draping your apartment in a fog that no number of lightbulbs could diffuse, scared you. The obscuring of your eyesight brought back memories of a time that was best forgotten, and paranoia rushed through your veins whenever you sat in the apartment.

Usually, you’d make the drive up to your dad’s house in Philly, but he was off chaperoning a field trip with Jack’s class. You were perfectly safe in your own apartment, Spencer, despite his Luddite tendencies, had a new security system installed, and your sidearm had been returned to you by the marshal service. Even so, every time you heard a creak in the floorboards or the tapping of something in the window, the hairs rose on the back of your neck.

There was no one for you to call. You didn’t want to bother your father and Jack while they were together. You didn’t want to worry Spencer. Your therapist would just suggest that staying in the dark apartment was a good method of exposure. You didn’t want to be exposed; you’d had more than enough fear for one lifetime.

You’d retreated to the BAU. The sixth floor of the FBI’s Quantico headquarters had been your home away from home for longer than you could remember, the walls of your sanctuary provided you with shelter from the storm.

When you had brandished your badge for the men at the security table, they looked like they had seen a ghost as they sent you upstairs.

Your desk had remained untouched by time, Spencer told you that Penelope would periodically go through and dust the surface, waiting patiently for you to return to your place. The desk chair that Luke tried to steal from you time and time again tucked beneath the furniture, hoping for you to take your seat.

The magnetic pull that you felt from your desk was the exact reason why you elected to sit at Spencer’s desk, surrounded by his books, a photo of the two of you, and fewer reminders of the life that you used to lead.

Spencer had respected your wishes for your return to remain a secret. The only other member of the team who knew your whereabouts was Rossi, and that was because he quit taking no for an answer when offering to visit your father and was surprised to find you weren’t there.

Twisting slightly in the chair, you thought about going to see Penelope, but what would you say to her? What would you do when you got to see her again?

Ten months was a long time to be away from your second family, even more so when you’ve been hiding amongst them for the past two months. A flash of light outside clues you in to the arrival of a July thunderstorm, sighing, you rest your head in your hands and wait in the comfort of the BAU.

Everything about it just felt so normal. The ticking of the world clocks above the unit chief’s offices. The pictures of Roxy that Luke kept on his desk. The crayon drawings that JJ kept on her desk. The dinging of the elevator that signaled that the team had finally returned.

You hadn’t thought this far ahead.

The glass doors to the BAU didn’t give you any cover to run and hide in Rossi’s office, leaving you entirely exposed in the bullpen, save for your hood that concealed your face.

“My beautiful people,” Penelope greeted the team in front of the doors. “Now, it is not my intention to alarm anyone, but there is a mysterious cloaked figure sitting at the wonderful Dr. Reid’s desk.”

Your face warmed while everyone talked about you, discussing who you were, and who you could be. None of them mentioned your name, either for a lack of belief or an act of protection, making it so no one got their hopes up.

The familiar rush of air hit you as someone opened the glass doors, you kept your head down as footsteps approached you. The familiar tapping of Spencer’s boots grew louder until he was standing right in front of you, crouching to the ground so he could look you in the eyes, and placing a gentle hand on your knee. “How long have you been here?”

Frowning, you picked at the seam on your leggings, chewing on the inside of your lip as you shrugged, “An hour, maybe? I lost track of time.”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “I tried to call you from the tarmac, but you didn’t answer.” He turned to where the doors were, holding up a hand as he tried to hold off the other team members, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you assured him, “I just… I thought I’d feel safer here.”

He squeezed your knee gently, “But you know now you have to talk to everyone, right?”

You hadn’t expected the team to allow you to walk away from them again, so your head bobbed in confirmation, and you pushed your hood off of your head, receiving a gasp from Penelope once she recognized you. Spencer stood first, holding out his hand to get you up from his office chair before facing the team.

Adjusting your sweatshirt self-consciously, you studied all of their faces, each person simultaneously so different and somehow precisely as you remembered them. You screwed your eyes shut before opening your mouth, “Hi— oof!”

Your greeting was interrupted when you were engulfed in a hug, opening your eyes to be met with familiar blonde hair—Penelope was hugging you so tightly that it was restricting your breathing, and you reciprocated gratefully. Your olfactory memory was firing receptors in your brain as her vanilla perfume flooded your senses.

Spencer’s hand was settled on the small of your back, gentle but firm, a method of reassurance. You’re safe. It’s okay. These people love you.

Sniffling, you nuzzled your face into her shoulder, “Oh, Penny,” you murmured into her shoulder. Nearly a year of thoughts rushing through your mind, yet you couldn’t get any of them out without blubbering.

Surprisingly, she pulled away from you first, holding you at arm’s length and looking you over, studying your appearance like she was trying to jog her memory.

Before she got to say what she was thinking, another familiar character reached out and pinched your arm, “Ow, what the hell?” You peered over at Luke, who was seemingly not in a hurry to take his hand away, but Garcia came quickly to your defense and began swatting at his hand.

“Back off, Newbie,” she said, continuing to bat at him until he put his hands up in surrender.

Laughing, you glanced back at Spencer, who bore an amused look at the scene before moving forward and giving JJ a hug while Penelope and Alvez had their spat. You sighed in JJ’s arms, “Some things never change, huh?”

Pulling away from the hug, JJ rolled her eyes, “Oh, you have no idea.” Her curious blue eyes flickered between you and Spencer, obviously noticing that this wasn’t a reunion between the two of you.

“Hey, Em,” you beamed, turning around and reaching out for the new BAU Unit Chief. Well, newer, you supposed. “Thank you,” you whispered to her, knowing everything she’d given up protecting you and your family—once you got Spencer talking, it was a difficult task to get him to stop storytelling.

You pulled away, greeting Matt with a handshake and waving timidly at Rossi, who you’d previously reunited with and had provided you with several home-cooked meals. “You look great,” Tara said, observing you from in between Garcia and Luke, serving as a human barrier between the two of them.

Doing a little spin, you smiled anxiously, pulling at the sleeves of your sweatshirt, you looked around at everyone again, “Thank you.” All of the stress of being in Witness Protection had worn out your body, and one of your goals before returning to the BAU was getting healthy again. You were glad to hear that it seemed to be working.

“Come back here,” Penelope beckoned, waving you over to her until you were standing between her and Spencer in the circle that had been formed in the bullpen. Her eyes shone as she looked at you with wonder, “You’re here! You’re real,” she said excitedly, gathering you back into a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she gently shook you, “I missed you.”

You relaxed into the hug, “I missed you too,” you whispered, stepping back and gratefully accepting Spencer’s hand when he extended it to you.

JJ clicked her tongue at the two of you, “What, uh, what’s going on here?”

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence as Spencer not so discreetly snaked a hand around your waist.

The blonde raised her eyebrows in incredulity, “Do you expect us to believe that this is how the two of you reunited?”

You shrugged, looking up at Spencer with adoration, “I split time between my dad’s and Spencer’s, so… we live together.”

Everyone was silent, and you expected an uproar. Frustrated questions on why you kept it a secret and why you stayed away from everyone when all they wanted was to be there for you, but the cacophony never came.

Instead, there was an encouraging whoop from Luke, and your eyes widened as cheers filled the room, “Really guys, it’s about time,” Emily acknowledged, smiling at the both of you.

It struck you then that you had been scared. You had been terrified of coming back to the BAU to find that they didn’t understand you and your reasoning for keeping your distance, but this was a group of people who knew better than anyone why you needed that time.

You felt a little silly, knowing you had been under the impression that these people would greet you with anything except for open arms. The realization that it wasn’t the building that made the BAU such a safe space for you but the people hit you like a bag of bricks.

Steepling your fingers and placing them in front of your face, you smiled at all of them, “I missed you all. So terribly much.”

Emotions made you weak at the knees, and you might’ve fallen to the ground if it weren’t for the BAU enveloping you in a hug, holding you up—keeping you safe.

[magalhaessims]

DEL SOL BOULEVARD - MAXIS-MATCH CC BUILD

NOT CC FREE 

Lot Type: Thrift And Bubble Tea Store | Retail

Size: 30x30

World: Del Sol Valley

Enable bb.moveobjects before placing in your game!

📺 WATCH THE SPEED BUILD HERE ✨

Origin ID: MagalhaesSims (remember to enable custom content on!) DOWNLOAD

CC USED IN THIS BUILD:

NOTE: For convenience, some of the CC is included in the Download Folder. Please put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked below.

Charly Pancakes: Lavish | Miscellanea | Modish | Munch 01 & 02 | Soak | The Lighthouse Collection || TheClutterCat: Baby Boo | Dandy Diary | Mermaid Mansion | On The Edge | Snuggle Set | Sunny Sundae || Felixandre: Berlin | Chateau | Grove Set | Shop The Look 01 - 03 | Soho || Harrie: Brownstone | Brutalist Bathroom | Halcyon Kitchen | Klean | Kwatei | Octave | Shop The Look 02 & 03 | Spoons || House Of Harlix: Baysic Collection & Bathroom | Harluxe | Kichen 2 Point 1 | Livin'Rum | Orjanic | The Bafroom | The Kichen || KKB-MM: My Cherish Things: Kitchen || LittleDica: Arcane | Chic Bathroom | Delicious Kitchen | Greasy Goods | H&B Store | Rise&Grind | Sleek Slumber || Max20: Cozy Bathroom Kit | Poolside Lounge (Plants) || MLys: Pufferhead Stuff Pack || Peacemaker-ic: Bowed Bedroom | Bowed Living | Creta Kitchen | Furrowed Plaster Wall | Geometric Mural Wall || Pierisim: Auntie Vera Bathroom | Calderone | Coldbrew Coffee Shop | Combles | David Apartment | MCM House | Oak House | Pantry Party | Stefan | Tilable Kitchen | Woodland Ranch || S-imagination: Nota Living Room | Rutland Kitchen || Sixam-CC: Home Office (Printer) | Hotel Bedroom (Hair Brush) | Private School (Water Fountain) || Someone-Elsa: Passion By Judith Ward Collection || Surely-Sims: Kitchen Of Tomorrow (Nuka Cola) || Syboulette: Fabulous | Happy Stairways | Love Is In The Air | Neighborly | Nothing To Wear | Pavilion || Taurus Design: Judith Living Room || Tuds: Beam Living | Ema Living

The CC Sets above are the main ones I used to decorate this specific building and you can find all the links to the creators’ sites on my Resource Page. However, if you can’t find something specific, you can send me a WCIF and I’ll try to help you find it!

HOW TO MAKE THIS LOT FUNCTIONAL:

For the Boba Tea Store, I've added the ThriftTea Bubble Tea Counter created by @srslysims. It features the same animation and interactions as the vanilla version but without the bulky counter it comes with.

For the Clothing Store, I recommend using the Fashion Store Mod by Nando. I've placed interactive mirrors in the changing cabins so your Sims can actually buy clothes from them.

For the Sephora Store, I'm utilizing the Functional Perfumes by @aroundthesims along with the Saleabration Store Mod by @ravasheencc, allowing your Sims to buy and use them! Additionally, I've included the New Styling Station (Chair) by @aroundthesims so your Sims can enjoy a little makeover at the store.

For the Bookstore, I'm incorporating both the Retail Therapy Mod by @ravasheencc and the Self-Service Kiosk by @aroundthesims, enabling your Sims to purchase books within the store. You don't have to have both mods installed if you don't want to; either one will suffice!

For a more immersive experience with this lot, I highly suggest downloading LittleMsSam’s Auto Employees Mod. With this mod, NPCs will automatically work at the lot once you place the correct object for them to appear.

Make sure to read all the information available on the mods' pages in order to ensure they work properly in your game!

My content will always be free and right away available to everyone, but if you want to, you can show your support through my Ko-Fi Page. Your donation will always be much appreciated!

Thank you for reblogging: @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @s4realtor @coffee-houses-finds and everyone else for helping me boost this post!

[simplyluunaa]

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Love Languages]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Byakuya Togami, Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Hifumi Yamada, Junko Enoshima, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Kyoko Kirigiri, Leon Kuwata, Mondo Owada, Mukuro Ikusaba, Sakura Ogami, Sayaka Maizono, Toko Fukawa, Genocider Syo, Yasuhiro Hagakure

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! Non-despair AU! Other than that, none!! Just fluff!

Other: Non-despair Junko, he/him pronouns for Chihiro, may have a few misspellings lol

A/N: First post!! Hello, people reading this!! Reblogs, likes, and follows are always appreciated! Constructive criticism is also welcome!! Also, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make this established relationship or like a mutual crush thing, so I tried to make it so it could go either way. Plus this is like my first time writing ANY of these characters, so please excuse any mischaracterizations or anything, I tried my best!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Makoto Naegi 

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be big into conversation

Doesn’t matter about what this man just likes to yap

If you are also talkative the two of you annoy the fuck out of everyone else because do you two ever stop talking??

But even if you’re quieter, he will talk enough for the both of you

Likes to watch movies and shows with you!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Byakuya Togami

His love language is Giving Gifts

He wouldn't be that affectionate of a person side from this I fear

Plus he always brushes it off if you ask

But he was thinking about you!! <3

He’ll legit buy anything that reminds him of you or he thinks you may enjoy

Man is made of money ofc he’s gonna spoil you while also acting like he hates you

Just how he is I’m afraid

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Chihiro Fujisaki

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be very much into baking with you

Idk man feels like a baker

Also, he’d be the best person to talk to about your interests because he will listen and do his best to remember every detail!!

Do the same for him!!

May or may not install Alter Ego on one of your devices so you can spend time with them while he isn’t around

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Hifumi Yamada

His love language is Giving Gifts

If you like a game or anime…be prepared

He will buy you just so much merch

Figures, posters, shirts, hoodies, plushies, everything 

If you’re especially fond of a specific character he will draw them for you!!

Maybe even write a short Doujinshi with a favorite ship of yours if he has the time

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kiyotaka Ishimaru

His love language is Acts of Service

He wants to be the Prime Minister, of course, he likes to help!

Like, I don’t know, I just have this thought like…

He’d so help you study, and like clean up your room for you

Also, I feel like if you have long hair he’d definitely brush it for you in the mornings

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though idk

But also if you do something for him to lighten his workload??

He might cry, just sayin'

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Leon Kuwata

His love language is Physical Touch

I just know this man desperately needs to touch everyone around him all the time (no I’m not projecting hush)

Like, he’s always touching someone, like an arm around his friend's shoulder or playfully ruffling someone’s hair

He’s just that kinda guy

He’d also for sure put his arm around your waist or shoulder whenever you’re around

Also, he’d probably grab your face occasionally to just squish your cheeks and tease you

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mondo Owada

His love language is Acts of Service

He’s a big strong man!! Of course he’s gonna do everything he can for his partner!!

No, but for real, he will do anything you ask of him AND MORE

He’s just a big softie!! And a gentleman!!

Opens doors for you, pulls your seat out for you, if you two are close enough will let you wear his jacket if you get cold

Especially if you're a girl!!

Diya raised him right!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Yasuhiro Hagakure

His love language is Physical Touch

Ok, this one is probably gonna be short cause I do not know a whole lot about this man

I feel like he’d be laid back about it, like with Leon

He’s just a touchy person, even with his friends

So expect him to just grab you and pull you into a hug, or ruffle your hair, stuff like that

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Aoi Asahina

Her love language is Physical Touch

You cannot convince me she wouldn’t always greet you with a hug

Like I just know she’s always touching you in some way

Holding hands, or her arm around your waist or shoulder

Even if you two are for some reason not touching, she’d still be incredibly close to you

If you let her she will just stand behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder

She does not care who’s around!! She wants to cuddle you she will do so!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Celestia Ludenberg

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Celestia has made a whole lotta money from gambling, so you cannot tell me she wouldn’t spoil you.

You and her cat ofc, can’t forget about Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg

Also, I’m split between thinking that every gift would be accompanied by a grand gesture, and thinking it wouldn’t be uncommon to just find wrapped gifts on your desk or something

She’s probably very nonchalant with giving gifts (most of the time) but if you get her anything unprompted?

She melts

Like it doesn’t matter if it's expensive or not, it's just the fact that you're giving it to her that makes her go kinda mushy

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Junko Enoshima

Her love language is Acts of Service

But like…in a very strange and roundabout way

Like even without the despair, she’s still…Junko, ya know?

She’ll trip people who are rude to you, help you cheat on homework, forge documents for you

Ya know, normal bestie things!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kyoko Kirigiri

Her love language is Quality Time

I mean, it seems obvious, doesn’t it?

I think she wouldn’t want to push conversation, just being together is enough for her

She’d like to go on walks or drink tea together

A lot of long comfortable silences with her that’s for sure

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mukuro Ikusaba

Her love language is Physical Touch

I feel like this is less about affection and more about wanting to keep you safe though

Like, she’d wanna be near you just in case someone (Junko) tries to hurt you.

Which opens up a lot of opportunities to touch you!!

She’d probably be kinda shy/indifferent to it at first, but after a while, she softens up and allows hugs and such

Would have her hand on the small of your back nearly at all times

Also is the kind to pull you out of danger/away from dangerous people

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sakura Ogami

Her love language is Quality Time

Drink tea with this girl RIGHT NOW!!

She’d definitely want like an hour of just uninterrupted time with you every day

Also feel like she’d be big into taking long walks with you, maybe at night or when the sun is setting idk idk 

Also very much feel as if she’d want you to work out with her

But if you don’t work out, she may or may not bench press you sorry

Or like have you sit on her back while she does push-ups

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sayaka Maizono

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Girlie makes a ton of money, she is SPOILING you!!

Buying you outfits, jewelry, expensive makeup, cute plushies!! Anything you want!

Would probably try and take you out on a shopping spree but doesn’t wanna be interrupted by fans

But she would give you her card and tell you to go crazy!! Maybe idk

If you give her a gift? Especially if it’s something you made?? Girl is melting.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Toko Fukawa

Her love language is Acts of Service

She does stuff for you, but always vehemently denies it

Helps you clean up your room, just to say she was just looking for something

Or makes you food and just says she made too much 

If you're someone who tends to overwork yourself, she’ll stay near you while she writes to make sure you take breaks and eat and drink water and whatnot

Which probably also helps her to remember to do those things!!

Win-win scenario!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Genocider Syo

Her love language is Physical Touch

Tries to make out with you in public

Will also grope you without warning

Sorry but if you want her to stop you gonna have to do something about it

However, even with all that she can also be really sweet at times

I feel like she’d thrive on cuddles

Even if she does feel you up while doing so

[moonchild9350]

Spell for Love

Summary: You were given a familiar, Seungmin, long ago to help guide you in your practice as a witch. Seungmin is your everything, both of you being destined to fall for each other. However, fate has other plans as there's chaos when you both break the rules with your love.

Pairing: Familiar Seungmin x Witch gn reader

Genre: fantasy au, thriller, fluff, angst, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: witchcraft (duh), violence, mention of chronic illness, mention of blood, mention of death, p in v penetration, creampie (dont), multiple rounds, they're in love your honor lol

Notes: Seungmin would make a good familiar hehe. Anyhoo spooktober continues with week 3 and I hope you enjoy this next installment!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, comment, and reblog as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Love is a strange dark magic, where death may only make it stronger, the softest kiss in the wrong direction can stew it away forever.”-Atticus

You have known Seungmin since you were a child, a little witch under the care of your mother and aunts. He was your familiar, a spirit sent to guide you throughout your life as a witch.

He was assigned to you at the measly age of six, at your coming of age as a witch. You remember the day, how it was filled with ceremonies and rituals, sanctifying you as a witch. Both of you received matching signets, a raven, branded onto your skin to show you were bound to each other for eternity.

At first you were a little weary of the boy, his hair always disheveled, his clothes a mess. He was also quiet, taking a while to break out of his shell, while you were full of energy, often bouncing around him talking nonstop.

Seungmin often took refuge in his familiar form, a shaggy black dog, when you were younger which seemed to be more comfortable for him. Despite this, he always was there to guide you and ensure you were on the proper track in your studies.

As you grew, he became your best friend and confidant. If you were in one spot, he wasn’t too far behind. If you got into yet another fight with the other witches at school, he would be the one to break up the fight and then later proceed to comfort you. Seungmin became your foundation through the rockiest points in your life.

However, that was years ago. Now you both were not so little and living in a small town. You had a little cottage in the woods, the one with flowers in the windows and lining the walkway to the door. Your prized garden was out back, filled with flowers and herbs you used for your potions. Smoke billows from the chimney into the night air, the fire casting a warm glow.

If anyone looked through the window, they’d catch a glimpse of a cozy scene, none the wiser to who lived at the little cottage. You chose to stay a little ways from town, as not everyone accepted you and what you were. They’d cast you looks and steer clear of you when passing you in town.

The townsfolk warned their children to never go to the cottage in the woods, lest they want to become the victim of the witches spell. It was all hodgepodge, however, as you and Seungmin were the most down to earth people, staying to yourselves and nice to everyone you met.

---

Today was an important day, one you had been looking forward to. You were summoned for a job, to help cure a sick child within the town. You often offered your services of healing, wanting to help others instead of staying cooped up in your cottage.

However, it has been months since your last summons, as the townsfolk did not want to believe in such "witchcraft." Therefore, when a desperate mother showed up at your door step, pleading for you to help her daughter, you gladly accepted the mother's plea.

So here you were, sliding a dress over your legs, pulling it up around your body, the material fitting perfectly along your slender frame. Seungmin watched from his chair in the corner, his eyes lingering on your curves as you fiddled with the sleeves. He loved your body, slender but plush in all the right places, perfect for his arms to wrap around.

Seungmin loved everything about you. He has ever since he first met you when he was appointed your familiar. He would do just about anything for you, and he means anything. Right about now, that includes fastening the buttons on the back of your dress.

“Thanks Min,” you said with a warm smile, watching as Seungmin fastened your dress, feeling the brush of his fingers through the fabric, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Seungmin smiled, his lip curling up at your praise. Your grin grew wider as you smoothed your dress down. You turned to face Seungmin, as he stood in front of you, his eyes looking into yours expectedly. You placed your hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks playfully, a soft whine falling from his mouth in protest. You giggled at the noise, amused at his annoyance at the gesture.

You both stood there for who knows how long, staring into each other’s eyes, the love you have for each other radiating within the small room.

Yes, you love Seungmin. You have for years. He’d do anything for you, he cares for you, more than you can say for most people. You wondered if he loves you back, loves you unconditionally just like you do for him?

You smile one last time, before dropping your arms and walking away.

“Let’s go Min,” you said, grabbing your pouch with the potion that would heal the child.

You both left the cottage and made your way towards town to Marion's house. Marion was the name of the child you were summoned to heal. She had an illness that has been plaguing her for years and wouldn’t go away. The town’s doctors did not know what caused her illness, every form of treatment failing. Over the last fortnight, it has been getting worse, as she’s not even able to get out of bed.

Seungmin watched as you clutched your pouch closer to your body as you hurried down the path. He could tell you were eager, as it’s been a while since you’ve been summoned. He helped you prepare the perfect potion for Marion, one that will heal her if her parent’s followed the proper regimen.

“We need to add Reishi, Comfrey, sage for healing, and a little Hops for sedation,” Seungmin remembered you saying, handing you each ingredient when you asked for them. The aroma wasn’t exactly pleasant, but little work that you both do is so. “This will be perfect for the girl, should heal her in no time!” Seungmin sure hoped so for your sake.

It wasn't long until the town came into view, the buildings looming in the distance as the sun was setting, tucking itself in to rest. The moon was peaking out, slowly showing itself as it's time neared with each passing minute.

You could see people hurrying back home or the local pub for a bite to eat as their day was coming to an end. Seungmin walked closer to you, placing his arm on your back protectively, as he guided you through town.

There was something in the air, an electricity that seemed to dance through the humid air and dance across the skin, causing the hair on his arm to raise. The air felt thick, almost making it difficult to breathe. Seungmin was worried, his eyes darting this way and that, watching the many faces passing by as you got closer to little Marion’s house.

“It’s ok Min. We’ll complete the job and be back home before you know it,” you said, trying to soothe your familiar.

You could tell he was on edge as he ushered you through town. If he was in his familiar form, you're sure the fur on his back would be bristled, his ears perked up for any abnormal sounds.

He had reason to be on edge you thought as you felt it too, something looming around you, ready to pounce in the spur of the moment. You needed this job to go well, not only for Marion's sake but also because were running out of funds, your money jar just about empty back at the cottage.

Arriving at your destination, you both stopped in your tracks, staring at the door. You squeezed Seungmin’s hand in yours before knocking, your knuckles tapping the wood three times. You didn’t have to wait long as Marion’s mother opened the door not a moment later, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She regarded you with slight uncertainty, before stepping back and ushering you in.

You stepped over the threshold, following her silently, through the kitchen, the living area, and to a door. She looked at you once more before turning the knob and opening the door.

You were slightly taken aback, as sweltering heat hit you in the face, the room baking in the summer heat. The air was stale, the smell of yesterdays food and antiseptic permeating the room. The windows were closed and bolted tight, allowing no airflow into the room, other than from the door you stood at now.

You hesitated to walk in, your eyes wide in shock.

“We are at wits end y/n,” Marion’s mother exclaimed, “please help us!”

You regarded the woman in front of you, taking in her pleading, bloodshot eyes. You could tell she was suffering, the responsibility of caring for a sick child taking its tole. You nodded and looked at Seungmin, before making your way to Marion’s bed.

You sat your pouch down and rustled through it, looking for the potion that you and Seungmin had prepared the night before. You hand brushed against something smooth and small before you wrapped your fingers around it, pulling out a vial, the amber liquid within sloshing against the side. Smiling, you stood up and walked closer to Marion.

Looking at the girl, you could tell she was gravely ill, most likely on death’s door. You brushed your hand through her wispy hair, gently singing a soothing song. Marion opened her eyes, the sunken in orbs finding your face. You smiled and uncorked the vial, bringing it to her lips.

You encouraged her to drink with promises of healing, tipping the vial slowly into her mouth. Marion gulped it down as best as she could, her eyes never leaving yours. Once she was done, you discarded the vial and smiled before turning to face her mother.

“She should start to feel better within the week,” you said.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The mother cried, tears streaming down her face at the hope of her child finally being healed.

You nodded and reached out your hand, as the lady placed two silver coins into your palms. You thanked her and made to leave, Seungmin following close behind. You walked with purpose, the promise of a nice dinner for once on your mind, the sound of the two coins clinking together in your pouch.

“We can have anything for dinner tonight Min!” You exclaimed, grabbing his hand. “Let’s stop here at this pub.”

Seungmin agreed, excited at the prospect of eating more than a few potatoes. He followed you into the crowded pub, his eyes roaming over the people gathered there for dinner. He sniffed the air, the aroma of the pub's house stew permeating the air, causing him to salivate and his stomach to growl.

You came across a table in the corner that seemed good as any and so you both sat down, settling in on the old, wooden chairs. Seungmin ordered two bowls of the stew, smiling at the waitress as she placed two mugs of mead in front of you. You sighed in contentment as the golden liquid slid down your throat, settling in your belly, causing you to feel warm from the inside out.

You didn’t have to wait long for your food to arrive, as two piping hot bowls filled with meat and vegetables was placed in front of you. You grabbed your spoon and dug in, filling your belly with the warm stew. You both ate in silence, savoring the taste of the food and listening to the chatter of the other patrons, enjoying the cozy atmosphere.

You both were almost done eating when a guttural scream laced with anguish pierced the night air and traveled into the loud pub. Everyone quieted instantly at the sound, turning their heads to the door to see the source of the disturbance. The door swung open, the wood slamming against the wall, as a woman came running in, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her.

“You killed her!” She screamed over and over, tears streaming down her face as she pointed an accusing finger your way.

You recognized Marion’s mother, your heart dropping at the sight of her. What did she mean that you killed her? You almost fell backwards as she rushed at you, her arms outstretched as if to strangle you, fury mixed with despair plastered on her face.

“You killed her, you…you witch!” She screamed as she tried to claw at your face.

You tried to protect your face from her hands but shrieked as her hands eventually made contact, her sharp nails dragging down your cheek, drawing blood. Seungmin quickly grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you up from your chair.

"We need to run, come on y/n!" Seungmin said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

You agreed, and started to run behind him, your free hand on your cheek trying to stop the bleeding from your wound. You both made it to the door in no time. Seungmin pushed passed the townsfolk who were trying to block your way to escape, flinging the door open causing the people to scatter.

You both ran down the path, causing dirt to fly everywhere, the dust coating the bottom of your dress. Dodging the people on the path proved easy as they hurried to get out of the way, their eyes widened as you two ran past.

You didn’t slow down, following behind Seungmin as he dragged you along. You were breathing heavy, as your lungs tried to expand with the amount of exertion you were placing on your body. The edge of town was in sight, the expanse of trees taking shape signaling that you were almost home. You didn’t stop running, not even when you arrived at your door.

Seungmin quickly unlocked the door and ushered you in, giving a quick glance down the path before closing the door quickly behind you and sliding the deadbolt in place, effectively locking it.

You sunk to the floor, your body falling into a heap, your hands trembling as you brought them to your face. You wondered where you went wrong, running over the steps of brewing the potion the night before. You went through each step, one by one, tears streaming down your face, but not able to think of one way you could have gone wrong.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the feel of Seungmin’s warm hands on yours, as he carefully brought them away from your face to grasp them in his.

“Don’t cry, y/n,” he said, pain reflected in his eyes at your distress. “You didn’t do this. That child was close to death by the time we got there.”

You shook your head at his words, trying to believe in them. You looked down at your hands intertwined, watching as his fingers rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. You were happy that Seungmin was here with you and comforting you.

Seungmin watched your face, pain in his heart as he watched the tears fall from your eyes, painting your beautiful face. His eyes wandered to the scratches on your cheek, blemishing the flesh that is usually flushed with red. He held your hands tighter in his, not wanting to let them go. He felt his heart swell, his love for you ever growing. He had to let you know just how much he cares for you, fearing that your time together is shorter than he would like.

“Y/n,” Seungmin whispered before leaning towards you, his gaze holding yours.

You did not move, frozen in place as you watched Seungmin lean closer and closer to you. You took in his shaggy hair, the tips of the strands lightly touching his eyelashes, almost obscuring his eyes. You gazed into the orbs which were focused on you, as they flicked from your eyes, down to your lips, and back to your eyes again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, in all your grief from tonight’s events. Time seemed to stop as he hovered right in front of you, his warm breath gently tickling your face. Your breath caught as you felt his soft lips press against yours, the flesh melting into each other with each passing moment. The kiss was wet as your tears continued to stream down your face.

It was suddenly all a flurry of movement as you found yourself on the couch, Seungmin hovering over you as he continued to hurriedly kiss you. It was a moment of passion, your tongue tangling with his, as his hands grasped at your dress, hiking the fabric up and over your waist.

You spread your legs more, so he could slot himself more comfortably between them. There was a flurry of more fabric rustling, as Seungmin tried to remove his pants, his leaking cock springing free from its confines.

You gasped out, as he pushed into you, his cock stretching your little hole, causing you to tremble from both the pleasure and pain. Seungmin did not wait for you to accommodate to the stretch as he began to thrust his hips hard and fast into yours, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He eyes raked over your face, taking in how your eyes were wide and mouth parted as he coaxed out little “oh, oh, ohs.”

He felt like he was on cloud nine, finally being able to have you, to have his cock buried deep within the woman he has always loved. Seungmin shuddered as he felt you clench around him, your pussy sucking him in, keeping him within the expanse of your warm walls.

You clutched onto his arms, bringing him closer to you to attach his lips to yours. With a few more strokes, you tipped over the edge, the warm feeling spreading throughout your core and body, your arousal dripping steadily, coating Seungmin's cock with your white, sticky arousal. You let out a low moan as you felt Seungmin's cock twitch within you, as he filled you up with his cum, marking you as his.

As you both came down from your highs, Seungmin whispered “I love you,” pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You grinned and chuckled as you grasped his face repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You both laid there for what felt like forever, clutched in each other's arms, Seungmin's now softened cock still buried within you. The shadows from the fire danced on the walls, as the sun finally laid to rest, the moon finally making it's full appearance.

You couldn't get enough of the man above you, feeling his cock once again harden within you. You longed to feel the beat of his heart against your chest as you pulled him closer, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he slowly rocked into you. Time passes slowly and sweetly, your breath mixing with his moans, as he brought you both closer to yet another orgasm. You came with a sigh and his name on your lips as Seungmin whimpered, releasing his load within you.

You continued to profess your love for each other, whispering sweet nothings in the silence of the cottage until that silence was broken by a series of loud bangs on your door.

You both startled at the noise, panic taking over at what it could mean...or worse who it could be. You thought the townspeople had finally made it to your cottage, ready to take you in. Seungmin quickly got up, fixing his pants as he made his way to the door.

You sat up and straightened your dress, not caring at the sticky substance leaking and coating your thighs, as terror filled you as you watched him walk to the door. As he threw it open, you noticed three people at the door, dressed in what seemed like an official uniform, donned in thick midnight blue coats, the signal of the council of witches pinned to the lapel.

“Seungmin the familiar?” One of the men asked, his tone gruff.

“Yes?” Seungmin responded.

“You are in contempt of the law of the ancients. We have to take you in. Please come with us peacefully."

You sat confused, not understanding what was occurring in front of you. Your mind was churning, trying to remember the law your mother made to instill in you, the content sounding familiar. Your thoughts were interrupted however, as you watched two of the men roughly place Seungmin’s hands behind his back, fastening them together with a spell.

You screamed as they roughly fastened his hands, as they kicked him in the abdomen over and over, pain littering Seungmin's face as he coughed and breathed in, trying to let the air in that was just knocked out.

You screamed ‘What are you doing’ as you tried to go to your familiar, best friend, and lover. The other man who was overseeing it all, stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist before pushing you hard to where you fell backwards and onto the hard floor. You winced at the pain, watching in horror as they continued to beat Seungmin in front of you, torturing him without mercy. You felt useless, unable to help the man you love as you scooted up to watch the horror.

What hurt you the most was when they brought out a contraption, placing it on his skin directly on his signet, signaling that he was your familiar. Pressing a button, a silver laser jetted out, the flash of light striking Seungmin's skin. You watched as Seungmin cried out in pain, the area on his chest dripping blood immediately upon the touch of the laser.

You let out a blood curdling scream, as white, hot pain seared through your body. You felt more tears trickle down your face as you attempted to look at your wrist. The skin where your signet had been was red and raw at the rough removal. Your signet was gone. Seungmin was no longer your familiar.

You screamed in agony at the pain in your heart, but also the physical pain, your eyes never leaving Seungmin’s. You watched in horror as they dragged him away, his feet dragging through the dirt. He left a trail of blood in his wake, his chest still bleeding.

You watched as Seungmin tried to say something, his lips moving, trying to form syllables. At the last moment, you were able to finally make out ‘I love you.’ You let out another sob as they dragged the only man you’ve ever trusted, ever loved, ever given yourself completely to out of your cottage into the street beyond.

You knew nothing good was in store for Seungmin. Your heart somehow knew you would never see him again. You sat in tears, broken and in pain as you tried to wrap your mind around what had just occurred. You didn’t have long to ponder, as another mob was making its way to your door.

The townspeople had gathered, their pitch forks and torches in hand as they screamed insults at you. Your mind slowly shut down as you heard

‘Dirty witch!’ ‘Evil spawn!” ‘Murderer!’

You surrendered completely, broken and in pain, as two townspeople grabbed your arms and dragged you away, down the path, and into town. You surrendered as they threw you in a cell, locking the door and throwing away the key so you could await your judgement.

None of this mattered however. Seungmin was gone from your life and your fate didn’t seem so bright. You laid down on the hard ground, using your hands as a pillow as you once more thought about where you went wrong. Suddenly you remembered the teachings from your mother, her gentle voice reminding you of the law of ancients.

‘Familiars and Witches may never be. If ever a familiar were to break there bonds of servitude by falling in love with a witch and sealing said love, the punishment be removal of being said familiar and ultimately death.’

Your heart ached at the implications, knowing you both broke the law of the witches, sealing your love with your familiar. The tears stained your face, your wails loud as you mourned your actions. You tore at your hair, scratched your arms in anguish.

You knew fate was sealed however, when you felt an odd feeling, like your heart had been cut in two. A stillness passed over you as you sat in the corner of your cell. You felt numb, your only reason for living gone from this world.

You didn’t care as you heard footsteps down the hall. You didn’t care as a man stopped in front of your cell. You didn’t care as he unlocked the door and dragged you away. You didn’t care as you walked into the bright sunlight, the light hurting your eyes. You didn’t care as you noticed the platform in front of you.

You felt your love grow stronger however, as you looked to the sky, the stars numerous and bright. You knew Seungmin was there with you, standing by your side. You knew you would both be together eternally, either on this plane or elsewhere. You smiled, despite what was to come. You felt light on your feet, your soul peaceful and calm.

You’d see him soon.

And in the end that’s all that matters.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[prettyfilmz]

ACTS OF SERVICE • JIMMY USO

authors note: hey friends! I’m back with the second installment of my love language series this time with mr. jonathan fatu himself ughh i miss my thick daddy anyways🤭 i hope you enjoy this one, up next is our OTC roman reigns🙂‍↕️ (also shoutout to my rn/cna followers, as an upcoming cna myself I dedicate this to you and I 💗)

summary: after a stressful day at the hospital, jimmy knows just what to do to melt the stress away from your day.

warnings: 18+ (you better go play with them school books before you play wimme) porn w/smidge of plot, dom! jimmy uso x sub! fem reader, reader is black, reader is a nurse, unprotected sex (be smart and wrap the peen), cunnilingus, daddy kink, doggy style, lil bit of spanking (one single spank), dirty talk, small bit aftercare at the end.

word count: 1.5k words

after twelve grueling hours at the hospital, you stepped through the front door of your apartment, body aching with exhaustion and strain. you drop your bag and kick off your pink crocs, the soft thud barely registering in your brain. but what did catch your attention was the sight of jimmy lounging on the couch, a warm grin already spreading across his face.

“hey, pretty mama,” he greeted you, standing up and meeting you halfway, wrapping his strong arms around your frame and pressing a slow, deep kiss to your glossed lips. his mouth lingered against yours, the warmth and familiarity of it immediately melting away a fraction of your tension.

“hey baby,” you whisper, pulling away to head straight for the shower. jimmy watched you retreat with that same smile, knowing exactly what you need. it had become your unspoken routine—he knew you better than anyone, and that extended to the smallest details, like your need to wash away the stress of the day before you could fully unwind.

while you showered, jimmy moved to the bedroom, pulling out one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft cotton panties. laying them neatly on the bed, he grinned to himself, knowing how much you loved lounging in his clothes. the subtle scent of him would cling to your skin, providing an extra sense of security.

when you emerged from the bathroom, your brown skin still damp and flushed, white towel barely hanging onto your curves, you spot him standing by the foot of the bed. “you didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, a tired but grateful smile on your lips as you let the towel drop to the rugged floor.

jimmy’s eyes twinkled with desire as they roamed over your naked skin, your curves highlighted by the soft light in the room, brown nipples perked up by the exposure. “girl you know i’d do anything to help you relax…besides I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, stepping closer, his warm hands gently brushing against your full hips as you slipped into the shirt and panties he’d chosen. “you in my favorite shirt…” his voice dropped, thick with heat. “makin’ me wanna rip ‘em off and take you down.”

you smirk at his lewd comment, your tiredness momentarily forgotten as the heat in his gaze sparked something deep inside you. “maybe later,” you tease, but your body was already reacting to his touch, a soft hum of anticipation building in your belly. you collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress with a heavy sigh. jimmy joined you, his hand finding its way to your hair, fingers gently playing with your curls knowing that’s how you self-soothe. “wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice low, comforting.

“mmhmm,” you nod, closing your eyes as you felt the tension in your scalp ease with his touch. “non-stop work. I barely had time to breathe or eat.” you vent to him about your long, grueling shift, the words coming out in a rush. as you spoke, jimmy’s hands never left your body, his fingers wandering from your hair down to your neck, rubbing soft, gentle circles that made you exhale deeply.

when you finally finished, jimmy leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t like it when my baby is stressed,” he whispered, his voice now carrying a note of something darker, something that made your heart race. “lemme take care of you, mama. lemme help you forget all that bullshit from today.” his lips trailed from your temple down to your neck, placing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin there, taking in the scent of the creamy vanilla body butter that you moisturized yourself with. you shivered, body responding immediately as heat pooled between your thighs. “jimmy…” you whispered, breath catching as his hand slid beneath the hem of your (his) shirt.

“mmhmm say my fuckin’ name,” he murmured against your skin, his hand moving higher, cupping your breast through the soft fabric. his thumb grazed your nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak, making you squirm involuntarily. “let daddy take care of you.”

you let out a soft moan in response, body already aching for more, soft skin sensitive to his every touch. jimmy shifted, positioning himself above you, his weight pressing you further down into the mattress in the most delicious way. the view was beautiful; jimmy’s long hair cascading down to his tatted shoulders, his gaze on you full of admiration and lust, and the action of his tongue quickly swiping against his lips…like a predator who caught it’s prey. his mouth found yours again, this time more demanding, his tongue sweeping across your plump lips before diving in, savoring your taste.

“you always workin’ so hard, baby. lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, his hand sliding down your body, pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose where you ached the most for him. “i’m gon’ taste you… every inch of you.”

a whimper escaped your mouth, thighs parting as his fingers found the edge of your *now* soaked panties, tugging them down with agonizing slowness. “jimmy, please…don't play..”

“I know, baby, I know,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. he lowered himself between your legs, his hands spreading your thick thighs wide, his breath hot against your glistening core. “don’t think about anything mama just feel.”

he pressed his warm mouth to you, his tongue immediately finding your sensitive clit, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes. your head fell back, body arching off the bed as his name fell from your sweet lips like a sacred prayer, your fingers gently tugging at his thick hair. “oh fuck…jimmy,”

his grip tightened on your trembling thighs as he devoured your pussy, alternating between long, slow licks and teasing flicks of his tongue against your sensitive folds that sent you spiraling closer and closer to the edge. “there you go, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with lust. “gimme that nut, cum on my face.”

your lower body trembled, breaths coming in shallow gasps as your orgasm unraveling under his expert tongue. just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, jimmy pulled back, full lips and beard glistening with your arousal, climbing up your body and captured your mouth in a searing kiss. you could taste the sweet, tanginess of yourself on his lips and tongue, the act made you dizzy with lust.

he gently flipped you on your stomach, his hands sliding down your smooth back as he positioned you on all fours, then stripping himself of his shorts and boxers. “you ready for me, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl as he lined himself up behind you, tapping your pussy with the head of his cock. “yes… please daddy c’mon…” you pleaded.

jimmy obliged at your plea and pushed into you slowly, the stretch and fullness made you cry out as your fingers gripped the sheets. “you feel so damn good..I love this fucking pussy,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts into your tight cunt, his pace slow and deliberate.

your head fell forward into the pillows, sweet soft moans filling the room as he moved inside you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your already sensitive body and making you feel every inch he carried. “that’s it, baby,” jimmy cooed, a hand striking against your ass making you yelp. “take this dick, be my good girl and take it.”

he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other, and the sticky wet sounds of your pussy only drove you both even crazier. your body naturally responded to every thrust, back arching as you felt your climax build with every deep, deliberate stroke to your g-spot. “fuck, daddy… I’m gonna…”

“I know, baby. come for me, lemme feel that shit” he growled, his hand sliding you to tease your clit, sending you over the edge. your body convulsed in pleasure, your orgasm crashing over as you screamed his name, warm gummy walls clenching around him. jimmy followed soon after, burying himself deep inside you as he groaned, his release hitting him hard as he peppered light kisses along your sweat slick back, his breath ragged against your neck.

after he pulled out of you and laid down next to you, he scooped you into his arms. you both stayed like that for a moment, bodies entwined, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your passion slowly faded. jimmy pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, peering down at you in his tatted arms.

“feelin’ good now?” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection. “i’ll order some food for us in a bit and we’ll watch one of those space documentaries you like, sound good?” all you could do is smile, head resting on his chest. “that sounds…really lovely.” you answer, feeling blissfully stress free in comparison to when you first got home.

taglist💗: @bebesobrielo

[sysyessential]

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[allbark-no-bite]

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

————————————————————————

"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar. 

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

[ma1dita]

feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood.  Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun, Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag. 

Again. 

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, Trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time.

Plus, there’s just something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“KID! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching. 

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back. 

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit. 

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints. 

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers. 

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity. 

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

ask to be added to the general/luke taglist! 🥹

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[sanzaibian]

Congrats on 1,000! I was hoping you could give me a haircut! I always wondered what if look like with a pompadour or soemthing like that

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot inside the building. “You will be accompanied by Rilaj Mam, an associate of Dr. Davod, who is known for having studied all sorts of arts of the hair. - Please call me Rilaj, using mam makes me feel old !” A voice is being heard from further inside the shop. - Sorry, but it’s in your namecard !”

As those two bicker, you approach the place where this mysterious man is, and find a quite small man, dark-skinned, folded eyes, and silky black hair arranged in a man bun – although the rest of the head is flawlessly shaved down to the skin. He wears colorful clothes, including a big bandana, and presumably the large hat and the pair of sunglasses that have been put down on the counter, all hiding what your trained eyes recognize as a ripped body.

But when you come just a little but closer, that short guy, presumably Rilajn suddenly turns to you – almost looking up to you – and smiles, full of kindness, though there is a tinge of malice behind his pitch black eyes.

“No matter ! I now have work to attend to !” He finishes the bickering, before addressing you. “I was waiting for you ! Please take place on this seat !”

You oblige, finding the seat to be extremely comfortable, much more than most barbershops you’ve ever been to. Almost too comfortable, considering this shop is temporary, after all… However, you’re here to relax and change hairstyles. Your hair has grown quite a lot since last time, and it’s about time you arrange it up. And trying a new style is just the cherry on top.

“So…” Rilaj, the barber, starts, coming with a bottle full of a weird black substance. “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that… your hair is way too short to make a good enough pompadour. You should have come in like… two months or three to have enough length to do what you wanted.”

You look at him disappointed. As if to prove it, he takes a strand of hair from the very front of your mop and drops it down your face, only reaching the base of your nose. And this shop is going to be closed by the time you grow enough hair, so although you can always come to another later, shelling out money for what is simply a bit of a silly tryout feels pointless.

“However, the good news is that I have a way to make a great pompadour thanks to my very special technique. So… are you interested ?” The barber offers with a malicious voice.

Still taken by your disappointment, you don’t think much and, foolishly, you agree immediately. You see his smile grow, as you are regretting having agreed so quickly while not considering what this technique is.

“Great ! Well, we shall start with a bit of trimming, no ? ‘Cause your hair might not be long enough, but it still needs shaping for this new cut !”

He draws out clippers and installs on it quite a big guard. Then, he turns it on, and starts mowing at your hair, tufts of it dropping from the sides of your head. His cutting style is quite peculiar, though, using the clippers only bit by bit, tuft by tuft, as if he was cutting with scissors. However, when he has finished one side of your head, continuing by working on the back, letting yet more strands of hair fall, you notice that the result is very regular, with each hair the exact same short size.

Somehow, that unorthodox technique works, and you are left with a great and very soft carpet of hair – which you were able to feel once he put down the clippers. Then, he draws out some scissors, of which one side is shaped in a sort of comb-like structure. He explains to you how it will make your hair less dense, which will make it easier to style, and better able to receive the special technique.

As he chops down some hairs on top, making the remainder of the mop lighter, you notice how silent he is throughout the whole ordeal. Although he seems like quite a jovial guy, even quite chatty at times, he doesn’t seem to be like other barbers, pulling you into discussions about what you did recently, or other mundanities. But looking at his pitch black eyes, matching his pitch black hair, you feel a weird sense of… tiredness ? coming from him. You can’t quite describe it, but as is always said : the eyes are the door to the soul. And behind the eyes you feel a truly ancient soul.

“That’s about it ! Now we’re coming to the good stuff !” Rilaj suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Let me just show you…”

He takes the bottle of black stuff in his hands, and presents it to you through the mirror, before uncapping it.

“This is what I call nuuch’ay ! Don’t try searching it, you won’t see anything about it on the web. It’s an old tradition from my people, forgotten today, but that is very potent.”

He starts dropping it on your hair. It has a very slimy texture, and drops slowly. Looking at its pitch black but slightly shiny form, it almost looks like rubber… Once the bottle is fully emptied out, he puts it away on the counter. You look at it and notice a label, on which there is something written. You can’t understand it, the letters spell words you haven’t seen anywhere, but you do note that the handwriting is very neat and elaborate. It’s the kind of style that would belong in a historical document.

“Now, let me just rub it all in, and then I’ll be able to… pull your hair out of your head, let’s put it like that.”

You are quite disturbed by this. As he is spreading the black goo, you’re wondering about what kinds of irreversible damage it would make to your hair… if it’s pulling out your hair, won’t it damage the follicles ? Destroy your hair, and making go bald when the hair inevitably drop ? But as you’re considering whether to flee as a matter of precaution, you find that you’re actually unable to move. You look at his eyes… still a deep, deep black hole…

You are now trapped.

Concentrated, Rilaj starts, as promised, pulling on your hair. He does it first in the front, and just as he starts pulling, you feel weird… as if he is pulling on other parts of your body. You look at yourself, and aren’t really able to notice anything that has change… but as he suddenly pulls a second time, you feel a bit weird in your belly.

He pulls once again. You feel… tighter, as if the flab that you had been accumulating over the years was being… pulled back. Another pull. This time, you feel weird in your jaw, a weird sense of tingling all over your face… and on point, you notice that, as he pulls another time, there is no more facial hair. If you could draw your hand to your face, you’re sure you would feel it to be all smooth.

He continues pulling, the pain and the tightness being felt on all parts of your body. You look up at your hair, and notice black strands, reaching far higher than they ever have… and they are stood perfectly. It’s a feeling that you’ve never had, and as he pulls yet another time, tightening your body yet again, you feel kind of… hot ? Like, you’re wearing a haircut quite elaborate, your face is devoid of beard… you feel beautiful, and, dare you think, cute !

He continues pulling out your hair, continuing to tighten everything in your body, as he starts combing your new longer hair. The comb goes higher, and higher, your body feels tighter and tighter, until he goes back to the rest of the hair, revealing a big, tall, but not obnoxious pompadour.

The definition of beauty and hotness.

And as he finishes combing the rest, the barber looks at you, smiling from a well done job, just like you are from a wonderful haircut. You are enamored by the pomp, so much that you fail to realize how big your clothes now are on you. You want to feel it, you want to touch it… but before you can make your hand reach, not even registering how you’re suddenly able to move, Rilaj blocks your arm.

“No, you can’t touch it just yet. It needs to dry up a little bit more before you can, else you will mess everything up.”

Dry ? You do as said, but that use of words does throw you for a loop. And your barber notice, since he then adds a few precisions.

“See, the nuuch’ay is derived from rubber, and we need to let it dry a bit before it can keep its shape. I have variants that dry a lot faster, but for hair, only this one gives out good results.”

Of course ! It’s rubber ! You knew it ! Especially now that you look again at your pitch black and slightly shiny pompadour, the same color as the short guy’s man bun. He goes to fiddle with his tools, putting away the comb, scissors and clippers, and drawing out another bottle full of that black thing… “nootcheye”, was it ? Whatever, that rubber thing he put on your head.

Feeling he was finishing up, you feel like it’s appropriate for you to stand back up… but just when you are in a vertical position, you feel something dropping. You look below, your pants and your underwear are on the ground, your shirt being the only thing still hanging on, although it is by now only hovering around your body.

You cry in shock, drawing the attention of the barber, who smiles, almost mocking you – though you don’t feel anything truly mean about it.

“Oops ! I guess I didn’t consider that law from that one smart French guy – what was his name… Lavoisier ? yeah, Lavoisier’s law of conservation of matter.” He half-mocks, sticking out his tongue.

You glare at him, growing angry.

“Okay, okay, don’t need to be this upset ! I was going to explain how the nuuch’ay works before you left anyway !” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Basically, it’s just stretching your body so that the hair is higher, so it had to take mass from somewhere else – that somewhere being your fat, mostly. « The nuuch’ay is currently keeping your body stretched, meaning that you will stay like that for quite a while. However, once it completely dries up, it will crack and then your body will go back to normal, whence why I couldn’t use the instantly drying up nuuch’ay.”

He starts helping you out of your shirt, revealing a lithe body, one that you hadn’t seen since early puberty. Although you can see muscles, they lack any definition, and are only revealed by the low amount of body fat you now have. By all definitions, you can now call yourself a definite twink. No matter how much of one you already were, by now there is no mistake, with how hairless and skinny you are.

“It should last about a month or two, I didn’t check when I made this bottle, but if you want to end it early, you have to warm your hair up with, for example, a perming machine.” He continues to explain, as he starts uncapping his other bottle of ‘nootcheye’. “But until then, your hair will stay exactly like this, no matter how much you squeeze it, wash it, or mess it up !”

As if to prove his point, he squeezes down your pompadour, and as he removes his hand it bounces back into place, as if nothing had happened. Bewildered, you let your hand reach your hair, messing it up in more and more extreme ways, but like rubber, it always gets back to its place. It just feels… surreal.

“By the way, we don’t have any spare clothes for you – all the spare are made for bigger people – so I will use this bottle to create clothes. Don’t worry, I have great taste.”

He pours the bottle of nuuch’ay he had in his hands, and it spreads over all your body, from your neck down to your feet, creating a big, black, shiny jumpsuit. But as it settles, red accents and multiple crevasses appear, until it has formed into a kind of black leathery tunic, one that you would more readily see in fetish publications than in the street.

But you love it.

And under the smile of Rilaj Mam who artfully wanders out of the field of view, you take a photo to commemorate that new hairstyle, that new shiny black pompadour.

But before you go out of the barbershop, after having collected your bag and your unfortunately big clothes, Rilaj stops you.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you grant me a favor ?” He draws out a short red cigarette. “I found that thing when I went to Tokyo a few weeks ago, and I think your uncle might be interested in it.”

You look at him shocked when he suddenly mentions your uncle – especially knowing the unfortunate fate he suffered.

“Now, don’t make this face. I knew who you were ever since I saw your name booking this haircut, that’s the reason I chose to cut your hair. That guy at the welcome desk can attest that I’m very selective with my clients.” You hear a frustrated ‘yes’ from far away. “But if you have any questions, ask them to him, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want me to. After all, he is the only one who has the right to answer them...”

Hearing his tone, it feels as if he wanted you to ask questions to your uncle… Does he feel smart for trying to so blatantly manipulate you ? Or does he realize that you can’t ask questions to your uncle and expect a coherent answer anymore ?

“And, seriously, don’t use that cigarette. You saw how potent the nuuch’ay is, and this is more insidious. On that, send my regards to your uncle. Xtiqaatz’at chik na qii’.”

Without waiting for you to react, he leaves out the door, leaving more questions than answers.

[sweetbeagaming]

How to install TS3 for the ✨chronically TS4✨

Getting back into TS3 posed a challenge for me as compared to TS4. It's a 10+ year old game and of course requires some extra TLC as compared to TS4. So I hope this guide will help y'all to get everything set up cleanly and smoothly! It took me three separate tries and if I can help the next person struggle less, then that's great. Happy simming!

You'll need a copy of TS3 and these resources:

The Sims 3 Performance & Bug Fix Guide 2023 by anime_boom

This lovely post from TS3 community extraordinaire @nectar-cellar

How Use CCMagic YouTube video by @florydaax

No Intro mod edited for 2023 (original by retired creator EllaCharmed) The original mod from Ella does not work for current patch 1.69. I fixed it in s3pe with the help of some commenters on MTS so that it does actually remove the intro. If the creator happens to see this and would like this modified version removed, let me know.

How to clear cache by Carl's Guide

Got everything pulled up? Great! You're ready to start.

1. Download a FRESHLY INSTALLED copy of TS3 to your computer. If you're able, I'd highly recommend having all the packs you're wanting to own already so you don't have to do all of this again. If you are redownloading the game for any reason (like me bc I was struggling lol), remove the existing TS3 folder in your documents and save it somewhere so you can keep all of your mods or worlds there. Back up any reshade stuff from the bin folder. Completely uninstall the game through the EA app/Steam. You may lose your saves and sims due to a change in script mods through this tutorial. This cannot be avoided, trust me I tried. But it's worth it for a smooth game.

2. Do a test launch so that the game generates a new TS3 Folder in your documents. DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT INSTALL ANY SIMS 3 PACKS THROUGH THE LAUNCHER! NO WORLDS, NO CLOTHES, NO HAIR COLORS, NOTHING. This will be very important later on when you merge your CC using CCMagic. If you need worlds or other CC there are alternative ways to obtain them.

3. CLEAR THE GENERATED CACHE

4. If you use EA and open to test anywhere between steps (which you shouldn't really need to after step 1 of the Bug Fix Guide) or after playing at any point, open up task manager and ensure that you end the tasks "EA" and "EA Background Services" before continuing. It doesn't really use much memory but I noticed that it caused stutters if it's open when launching using your shiny brand new Smooth Patch. It will look like this:

5. Begin following the steps in the Performance & Bug Fix guide. The first thing you'll do is set up your mods folder. Follow those steps exactly as they are in the guide, except use the No Intro mod I linked above instead of the one you get in that folder if you actually want the intro removed.

6. Continue to FOLLOW ALL REQUIRED STEPS IN THE GUIDE UNTIL YOU'RE DONE. I mean it, all of them one by one. Heck, if you're open/able to do the bonus and optional ones, I'd suggest doing those too.

7. Once you've completed that, go check out nectar-cellar's excellent post for tips and a fix to make the smooth patch to compatible with Master Controller. I will not be providing an edited version of this as LazyDutchess who created the Smooth Patch is still active and I want to respect their work.

8. If you've made it this far, you're doing great sweetie. Do another test launch through the patcher and if everything runs correctly it means you've done everything RIGHT. You're ready to start playing or downloading mods if you want! If you do start downloading mods merging them will 100% be a must do if you want to maintain any sanity. You can use CCMagic to do so. I linked that handy lil video above!

Keep in mind script mods, overrides, patterns, and CC counters should NEVER be merged. Always check the creator's notes, yada yada. And always clean up your cache on a regular basis. Have fun y'all!

[nymphomatique]

i’m up giggling and twirling my hair on this fine evening thinking about sleazy mechanic miguel o’hara and being completely normal about it ❤️

just imagine, ur bent over the hood of your car, nearly drooling all over it’s chipped paint miguel said he’d fix because he’s just fucking you so good and so deep, your mind is going numb.

a half hour before this you walked into his auto shop in the skimpiest outfit and the strappiest little heels he’s ever seen and he just knew you were going to be a handful.

“you haven’t changed the oil in two years?” he asks, he laughs at your meek nod because you know it’s bad based on how wide his eyes got as you told him allll the little details about your car.

“well darling, this just won’t do. i can’t let you ride around in this car until it’s all fixed and proper,” he tells you as you go over the long and expensive bill full of parts and things you don’t recognize nor understand.

“i can’t pay all this at once.. can we do instalments? or-or maybe we can do one thing off the list a month? because i can’t afford to-” he cuts you off right then and there because he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

do you really need all the things on that list fixed? no. at most you need your oil and tires changed and your brake fluid checked. but miguel deserves a little fun, doesn’t he?

“im sure we can figure out something that works for the both of us, sweet thing,” he says, giving you the once over. it’s only now that his rippling muscle and massive height make you feel somewhat intimidated as you feel as if you’re understanding the innuendo that slips past his oh so kissable lips.

and kiss those lips, you do. your eyes roll behind your skull and you let out a muffled groan into miguel’s thick and muscular grease-stained bicep, his other hand wrapped in your hair and tugging your head up to face him, initiating a heated and intense kiss. you can’t help but moan and tighten around him because oh my god it just feels so fucking good.

“m-miguel, ‘m gonna- oh my god, please make me cum, please please please please please,” you’re rambling after that intoxicating kiss.

“that’s it, cum for me sweetheart. gonna make that sweet fuckin’ pussy cum,” he spits at you with a new found vigour in his thrusts.

if it means having you like this forever, that car of yours is gonna need a lot more servicing from him down the road.

—

this is my first ever published work on here pls give me feedback 🥲 asks are also welcome if u want me to write about anything on miguel!!

thanx for reading 💋

[kalims]

[ 10:50 ] — leona kingscholar needs to stop using his authority for you

"what the hell is this,"

you can't help but blank out at the several savanaclaw residents all individually holding fans that vary in size and color. they're all lined up in a surprisingly coordinated line and are currently heaving their items upwards to downwards repeatedly.

basically they're fanning you?

despite your clear equally confused and horrified reaction leona lays down in a long, comfortable chair a few distances away from you. it might be a good point to add that he's also receiving the end of cold air the students are generating so you can't help but think that he's obviously the person behind this.

apart from the backround characters who are sacrificing sore arms at his expense. leona had taken it upon himself to get comfortable, his hands are behind his bed. he peeks them open to cast you a glance. "what?"

your movements stutter from pointing at the students behind him and then at leona, holding a lost face. "uh—you can't just force your residents into labor," you wince and emphasize with the pained grimace one of them displays.

heck, they're getting red in the face.

leona, who raises a brow at you like he didn't do just that pauses at you before scowling. "weren't you the one complaining all about the heat yesterday? I'm doing you a favor that's all," he explains and your jaw drops.

but that was normal! who would even assemble some type of.. club dedicated to fanning people? you just said it in the moment as an expression!

plus it really was hot. at this point if you told leona it was too cold he'd probably get about a hundred heaters installed in the dorm.

"but that was literally a joke, If I knew you'd do this to these poor students I wouldn't have said it at all," even if you're technically siding with them they still manage to side eye you a look that tells you they're offended.

and from your experience they probably think that you saw them as people who can't handle the heat.

figuratively and literally.

leona and his acts of service can get a little out of hand after all. you promised you'd be careful with whatever you'd say but it's hard now when you honestly just wanna joke around.

last time you jested about a room in savanaclaw that isn't leona's he actually made it work and boom, there's now a vacant one beside his own. though leona said that there's no need because you inhabit his own room so much that you can practically call it your own.

which isn't exactly wrong..

"you guys can go, if you want," you gesture at the group who falters for a second.

then leona looks at them over his shoulder.

"anyone?"

they all stiffen up and yell. "no dorm leader!" and another exclaims something about being glad to even work for leona while the others quickly fall into sounds of agreement.

you huff at leona who's thoroughly enjoying the artificial breeze created by human labor. his hair is flowing with the direction of it which gives you all the more reassurance that he's enjoying this much more than he bargained for.

"you're scaring them," you deadpan, and he shrugs. "fear demands respect, they respect me that's all,"

"aren't you gonna join me?" he tilts a head to an open space next to him and you're surprised he hasn't taken up the space all on his own and actually reserved a spot for you.

you clear your throat and cross your arms. gee, whatever this was is oddly enticing. you can feel how much heat your body lost from being hit by the side of the wind. you're no longer sweating profusely at the attacks of summer and can only daydream at how heavenly it would be if you were in the middle.

... you're starting to see why leona looks like he's enjoying himself.

"why should I?"

"it's my gift to you, isn't it rude to disregard it just like that?"

oh wow so this whole thing was a gift?

"is this a trap? I know, those fans are poisonous aren't they?"

he deadpans at you. "if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it another way, plus,,, it's not everyday I'm in a good mood enough to spoil you,"

"you call this spoiling?!" in your idea it's quite far from it but whatever he says..

you'd call it forced labor.

note. this is basically leona taking everything mc says too seriously. he's such a simp fr