#the permanent issue of not knowing what i want it to look like i just know i dont want it to look like this

[skunkes]

I mean this vent completely neutrally and as an observation rather than Woe is Me negativity but going ham in my sketchbook has been Fun but along with not really Learning anything (tho historically no art knowledge ever sticks to my brain) I'm no closer to understanding how I WANT to draw! if that makes sense.

I dont really identify with or want to continue any of the patterns I try (nor do they get any more muscle memory-y, in the fundamentals area).

Its fine as long as its Fun but I really feel the aimlessness. Like I'll keep going but I've also. Been doing that. All I do is Keep Going, when does it all tetris together!

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[angelicjas]

"WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME DADDY ? "

starring ꒱ gojo, s. geto, k. nanami.

sum ꒱ plethora of jjk men to fuel your daddy issues — which we all know you secretly have

wc: 2.3k

@warnings! ꒱ daddy!kink, age gaps, p in v, basic sex stuff, filthy smut, cumming inside, cunnilingus, degrading, praise, not rlly proof read, kind of buns but oh well. dumbification kinda, i think thats it lmk if not !!

SATORU GOJO; the sugar daddy.

that new bag you eyed for 2 seconds last week? you find it on the dining table with a note that simply writes, ‘enjoy baby!’. your amazon cart? shein cart? bought with fast shipping, no matter how expensive or full it is. those cute pants you keep seeing everyone on tiktok gloating about? bought and on your nightstand.

satoru, loved to spoil his baby in all sorts of shiny jewels and designer, he loved to see the big smile on your face no matter how many times he’s bought you things. when you go out for girls night? he’s sending you with a stack of money, the size and weight of atleast 1000 dollars cash, throwing it down as if it was a mere 20, his only request was to call him if you or your girls needed anything.

but what satoru loved most, was buying you pretty lingerie.

“mmh!- fuck. .” pap, pap, pap. was the only sound that could be heard in your shared bedroom, your body was wrapped in a light blue lace satoru had bought you, the light color matching his eyes beautifully, the panties were pulled to the side, since he claimed he just ‘had to fuck you with it on.’

“fuck baby, you look so gorgeous with this. .” he pants in your ear heavily, he had your legs on his shoulders, ankles to his ears,

“yeah, mmph- you’re taking me so well baby.”

you could barely register his words, the only thing on your mind was how fucking deep he was, you could feel him in your stomach as he hits that spongey spot deep inside over and over.

your jaw seemed to be stuck in a permanent ‘o’ shape, the only thing coming out of your mouth was the pornagraphic moans that you couldn’t seem to hide even if you wanted too.

your body was bouncing with every thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head on a particularly hard thrust.

“yeah, fuck- mhm, you look so fucking pretty, holy shit.” gojo never seemed to shut up during sex, even as he moans inbetween every word. he just felt like he had to let you know how good you look and feel.

the pleasure he was feeling made his body want to roll his head back so bad, but he refused to look away from the fucked out expression on your face.

gojo could also never keep his hands off you, caressing your hips, to your waist, down your arms.. groping and pawing at any skin he could get his greedy hands on.

his mouth was no better, when he wasn’t talking your ear off he’s kissing you sloppily, mostly containing of teeth clashing and tongues colliding more then actual lips touching, or kissing down your neck in a poor attempt to muffle his moans.

“t-toru!” you barely whimper out as more tiny ‘ah, ah, ah!’s leave your lips, he shushes you gently with a sinister grin plastered on his face. “I know baby, I know. you can take it thought right?” he whispers moving his head next to your ear, nipping at your skin lightly.

“hmm?” he hums in question, as if you were even able to answer.

“yes!, yes! holy fuck, yes!” you weren’t even quite sure what you were saying yes to at this point, the repeated jabs to your g-spot making you dizzy, you could feel the pleasure slowly become overwhelming.

“mmm,” he hums and speeds up his hips impossibly faster, causing more moans to usher past your lips unexpectedly. he tilts your chin to look at him, making you kiss him as your teeth bump together and your tongue’s tie. “good fucking girl.”

he breathes into your mouth as his eyebrows furrow, he knows you’re just as close as he is.

“g-g’nna cum!” you just barely find the words as you had been fucked utterly senseless. he hums in delight into your mouth before pulling away, kissing and sucking at your neck sloppily,

“cum baby, please.” he begs as he feels you clench around him and chant his name like a mantra.

hearing his name swarm out of your mouth mixed with the way your tightness squeezed around his cock, it sent him over the edge aswell, moaning even louder then you as he buries himself deep in your wetness, letting the ropes of his warm cum spill into you.

SUGURU GETO; the kids you babysits daddy.

It’s probably wrong, the way the same night you tucked his girls into bed after reading them a sweet story, you’re downstairs getting fucked over the kitchen counter.

it was a side gig, an attempt as a broke college student to get some money, eventually you grew to love the two girls you babysat as if they were your own. it also helped that their dad was a fucking smokeshow.

the way you’d run home and tell your girlfriends all about how hot the kids you babysit's dad is, “id call him daddy.” you speak into the phone as you all giggle, in that moment you can also feel your heart drop to your stomach as you hear someone clear their throat from behind you.

“call who daddy sweetheart?” you hear your friends exchange “ooo’s” and laughs through the telephone as you slowly turn around, much to your horror, and see the same man you were just erotically speaking about..

“such a whore baby, is this really the way my children's babysitter should be acting? hm?” he had you in a mean arch, pounding mercilessly into you, the only sound throughout the kitchen being your muffled moans and the squelching beneath you two. you were bent over the kitchen counter, the same one you’ve made the girls food countless time.

it was wrong, you’re sure of that, but its hard to think about that when the only thing on your mind is how fucking deep he was, you swore you could feel him rearranging your guts with each harsh thrust, he knows how to hit that spongey spot deep inside with perfect precision over and over, much better then all those stupid college hook-ups you had.

“s-sugu!, so deep! . . s-shit!” you hear a menacing laugh behind you, mocking you.

realistically, suguru always knew you found him attractive. he could tell by the way your eyes lingered a little to long when you thought he wasn't paying attention, but he always was. he kept a keen eye on you because, frankly, he was also head over fucking heels.

he thought you were the cutest little thing, always showing off in those cute dresses and skirts that hugged your body so tightly, even the days where you wore sweatpants and tracksuits he found himself drooling, still imagining what was underneath.

call him a pervert all you want, especially going for a girl so much younger, so naive. but you were just as much of a pervert. always bending over a little to far in front of him, showing off your cute dainty panties. hugging him a bit to tightly as you left, making sure your boobs pressed riiiight up against him.

which is why he wasted no time bending your little slutty ass over as soon as he could.

“cmon baby, do what you told your friends, yeah?” his head tilts lower, giving open mouth kisses over your neck and down your back, groaning against your skin everytime he feels you clench around his cock.

“mmm-!” you could barely form a coherent thought, hearing the ‘schlick, schlick, shlick’ noises of your messy cunt drooling around him.

“f-fuck! can’t- jesus-!” you stutter out, your eyes crossing as you throw your head back impossibly farther, making suguru reach for your hair and grab it into a sloppy ponytail.

he pulls you by the makeshift pony so your right up next to his own face, “not gonna ask again, little girl.” the husk in his tone, the vile words he’d say, all made you clench tighter and moan louder, biting your bottom lip until it was raw and swollen from trying to contain them.

“s-sorry!” you moan out, the sound of your skin clapping with the wet noises echoing louder throughout the kitchen.

“daddy! fuck fuck- daddy, daddy, daddy!” you can barely contain your screams as he hushes you gently, all with the same sly smirk on his lips that hasn’t left ever since he walked in on your little phone conversation.

“thatsss it,” he groans feeling his own orgasm creeping up. “atta girl, so fucking good.” you felt like you could cum from his words alone, tightening around his shaft once you feel that familiar pleasure consume you.

“c-c’mming!” is all you can manage to get out before it hits you like a fucking train. your legs are shaking, eyes rolled back, uncontainable moans spilling from your lips.

looking at your disheveled state, suguru moans against you burying himself deeeep inside your tummy, what really pushed him over that edge was one more small tight hug from your pussy, causing warm ropes to shoot into you as you squirm, still trying to recover.

“whoopsies, maybe you’ll just have to carry our own kids, hm?”

oh fuck.

KENTO NANAMI; daddy issues daddy.

your relationship with your father was…never great, to say the least, it caused a few problems in your life, sure, but the main one, was the attraction you had in much older men. your friends never understood, i mean, why don’t you want a young guy that can handle you? or a guy your age you can grow old with?

they didnt understand, of course they wouldnt. an older man can throw you around much better then any young guy you’ve been with ever could.

which is why nanami, who you happen to meet at a bar, is practically your dream man ever since the moment you laid eyes on him.

“come here often handsome?” you sit next to him with a seductive smile, leaning your elbow on the bar and resting your cheek on it. he simply turns to look at you, and with an amused huff shakes his head.

“very nice sweetheart,” you can feel your heart swoons at the name. “but im far to old for you.” tch, yeah right.

you aren’t exactly sure how you got where you are now, whether it was the booze, your head being clouded with lust, or maybe both, but your seated in the back of his fancy ass car, with him between your legs.

“you don’t have to do that y’know, if you don’t want too.” you pant looking down at him, I mean afterall no man you’ve ever known has ever really wanted to eat pussy. yet, he still shoots you a perplexed look, shaking his head aggressively.

“I want to,” the words catch you off guard yet make the ache between your thighs even louder. “need to teach you how a real man does it, hm?”

you moan simply at his words and nod your head, throwing your head back as he continues his work kissing along your thighs, humming here and there.

he eventually, comes face to face with your glistening cunt, blowing on it causing your legs to squirm shut, before he quickly grabs ahold of them, now putting your knees allll the way up to your chest, you whine at this before it quickly gets cut off with a real moan once he swipes his tongue through your folds, humming into your wetness.

his tongue swirls around, collecting and swallowing every ounce of your slick as if he was a dehydrated puppy. you’ve never been eaten out with so much . . pleasure? every guy that’s done it before was either terrible at it, completely missing and licking the lips, or just plain hated it anyway.

“mmh- shit. . . feels s’ good.” your head lolls back and more whimpers escape past your lips blissfilly, his lips curl to suckle your sensitive clit, causing you to grab at his hair and whine loudly.

“fuck- so needy baby.” he pants into your soaked hole, mixed with your arousal and his spit. “she’s never been treated right has she? poor thing.” he coos and speaks to it as if it was a real person,

the filthy wet noises emitting from between your thighs only turned you on more, between the constant torture to your clit mixed with his dirty talk? you knew you were a goner soon.

his tongue explored you as much as he could, thrusting the wet muscle into your opening as you needily moan from above him, the grip on his once put together hair, becoming tighter. he sped up, tongue lapping at your essence as he switches between suckling on your clit, to drinking up your dampness.

“s-shit! wait- . . nanami!” the sudden change in pace causes your legs to shake and much louder moans to escape your lips.

unfortunately, everyone that could see the car definitely knew what was going on inside. not only could they hear, but could probably see the car shaking.

your head flew back and your legs attempted to clam together again before a harsh smack! landed against your thigh, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

“keep ‘em open.” the man speaks between your thighs.

“’m close, so f’ckin close-!” the windows were fogged with heat already, nanami slurping at a quickened pace, never failing to reach the most sensitive parts inside of you.

you can feel your climax approaching, the warmth in your belly growing with lust,

“cum.”

was all it took for your legs to shake and your body to writhe and twist above him, he continues to gulp at your creaminess until you ride out your orgasm and have to practically push him off of you.

“wanna see how a real man fucks angel?”

hell yeah you do.

-

toji was supposed to b in this but i got lazy

[luveline]

i just saw someone on tiktok say “behind every girl that always wants to be around their partner is a little who’s dad didn’t choose her.” with aaron pls :(( and reader reveals her daddy issues? xxx

—hotch comforts you when you worry you depend on him for the wrong reasons. fem, 2k

You were aware of the irony. Girl who hates her father latches onto the first older man to give her any positive attention: the framing isn’t complimentary to either of you, and it’s not true, really. You love Aaron because he’s kind, and he’s handsome, and because he loves you first. You won’t pretend he’s perfect even if he might say that about you. He doesn’t have to be. 

Aaron is kind where all the other men in your life have been cruel. He is the person you go to when things go wrong, even if you don’t expect him to fix things for you. You know you have ‘daddy issues’, and you don’t want them to affect how you and Aaron are when you’re together, but it’s obvious to the both of you that you crave being looked after. The way Aaron takes care of you absolutely factors into why you love him. 

He wraps the tail end of your scarf into your coat and flattens the lump of it until it’s under your chin. “Alright?” he asks, not expecting an answer as he turns away to grab his own scarf. “Will that coat be warm enough? It might be a few hours.” 

“Fine. We’ll be inside most of the time.” 

“Mm,” he hums, reaching back to pinch your side. You laugh and he smiles but doesn’t say anything further, pulling open the front door, and holding it for you until you’re on the porch. 

“You know you don’t have to… spoil him, so much,” you say lightly. 

“It’s not spoiling, he only wants a few things.” 

You’d personally felt that Jack’s birthday wish list was a bit long, but you don’t care. You don’t have a vendetta against Jack's happiness. If Aaron wants to spend half a paycheck (alright, a quarter, if that) on some toys, he should do it. But he probably knows already that Jack won’t care if he doesn’t get all of that stuff. “I didn’t get half as much for my birthdays,” you say. 

“Believe me, honey, neither did I.” 

“One year someone’s mom got me a full box set of movies though. That was a good one.” 

“One year, I got two different pagers.” He snorts. “And now they’re useless.” 

“I never used a pager.” 

Aaron goes a bit red, self-shame or something silly like that. “Don’t tell me that.” 

“Cradle snatcher.” 

“Stop, that’s not funny.” 

It’s funny. You aren’t shockingly younger than Aaron but it’s definitely enough time to see the difference (not that you care, you quite like him with his permanent wrinkle between his brows and his big, big hands). “I really haven’t. I know what they are, of course, but I went straight to a cell phone.” 

He grumbles something unheard. Together, you get into his car and drive to the shopping centre nearest the house, a maze of storefronts with outdoor entrances, like a mall that’s been shaken and thrown out over two streets. It’s not entertaining but in a way, it’s good. Aaron holds your hand and you can walk around with your head held high, proud to be a well-dressed, in love-looking partnership. See, your face says to anyone who’ll look, I’m well-loved. 

After an hour or two he kisses your cheek and decides aloud that you need dinner. He doesn’t ask if you’re hungry, he just chooses, and you love it. 

“Thank you for letting me come today,” you say, sitting across from him behind a dinner plate and a towering glass of lemon water. 

“Did I let you?” he asks, distracted by his steak and fries, though he sounds as loving as usual. 

“You could’ve said no.” 

“I have no reason to. I like when you’re with me. Thank you for letting me bring you, then, and boring you half to death.” 

“Freezing me the other half.” 

“Ah, so smart, so clever,” he murmurs. 

“Witty.” 

“Always, aren’t you?” 

You wonder about the dessert menu, find your mouth working of its own accord. “It doesn’t feel believable, sometimes. That you want me around so much.” 

He pauses, resting his knife across his fork. With a free hand, he gestures to your hand. “Would you like more proof?” 

You aren’t sure what he means, the tennis bracelet he got you for your first anniversary, or the engagement ring that sits heavily on your marriage finger waiting to be traded for a golden band. Maybe he means the teeny silver bracelet that falls down your arm whenever you move, that one just for fun. 

“Not,” he says slowly, his eyes squinted to tell you that you’re caught, “that jewellery should be your sole proof.” 

“Would you like to prove it to me now?” 

He reaches over to squeeze your hand. “I want you around all of the time. If I could I’d have us sewn together at the hip.” He’s grinning, thumbing against your knuckles. “It might not be comfortable at night when you’re trying to climb all over me.” 

“You climb all over me, Hotchner, don’t lie.” 

Aaron nods appreciatively. “That’s right. You’re the second most important thing in my life, and that’s not your fault, only Jack is so endearing.” 

“He’s a lucky kid.” 

“No, he’s not,” Aaron says gently, “but I really do love him.” 

“Of course he’s lucky. He has a dad who loves him to pieces, his Aunt Jess is like, superwoman, and– you know, I know I’m not the same as that, but I love him.”

“You look after him,” Aaron says. 

“It’s honestly just nice that you seem to like him. You don’t act like he’s an annoyance for you, you aren’t angry to have to come out today to get him his presents.” 

“Well, no. It’s not something to be angry about. When you have kids, you’re signing up for every part of having them.” 

“I know.” 

He takes a sip of his drink and puts it down beside your own in what you know to be him buying a little time. “Honey, is there something… I don’t know, something you want to talk about? Is it Jack's birthday…?”

You feel your heart fall into your mouth, as though it began life somewhere else, heartbeat mortified on your tongue. He sees you fluster and immediately softens, turning your hand in his to stroke along the inside of your wrist. 

“Nevermind,” he says. 

“No.” You clear your throat. “It’s not about Jack’s birthday. It’s just… you know you weren’t always the best father you could’ve been.” 

He nods. “I do.” 

“But you are now. You’ve made sacrifices, you– you chose Jack.” 

“I couldn’t not.” You’re quiet. He understands. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to talk about it now. Would that be better? You can think about what you have to say, and I promise I’ll listen without judging you when you’re ready to tell me about it. Okay?” He gives your wrist a squeeze. “You aren’t upset, are you?” 

“I’m just thinking.” 

“Are you too distracted for dessert?” 

You let Aaron pick one for you. Let him pay the bill, he’d be insulted if you even asked about splitting it, and he might genuinely get annoyed if you offered yourself. You usually love it. Someone loves you enough that money is practically immaterial. Just last month he had to have the roof of the house redone, and you know his money isn’t infinite, as does he, and yet it didn’t stop you from being spoiled, because any money he has was money shared. You know if he suddenly turned pauper he’d still spoil you, same way you’re spoiled with soft touches and less chores than you should take. 

“You know I don’t think of you as my father, right?” you ask. 

Aaron chokes on a startled laugh. “Of course I do,” he says, coughing, clutching your elbow. 

“So if I tell you that sometimes the way you treat me reminds me of my father, you won’t take it the wrong way?” 

“No.” He smiles where he should frown, wraps an arm behind your back when he should be judging you. “Men are still men. And I am a father, so it makes sense that you’d have those connotations in mind sometimes.” 

“I don’t want you to be my dad, but I do wonder… I wonder if I want to be around you so much because my father didn’t want to be around me. Does that make sense?” 

“I think it makes sense to wonder about it,” he says diplomatically. 

You’re nearly back to the car and this is a strange place to bare your heart, but it’s not so dramatic, you suppose. “I just think that sometimes I cling to you so much, and it must be– I’m insecure about you.”

“Mm, but you have no reason to be,” he says, pulling you closer still, his fingers aligned against your ribs and warming through your layers. 

“My father didn’t like me, not like you like Jack. There were things that were far more important to him. But with you, I’m important, and– and I know it’s not the same relationship, but–” You groan, not sure what you’re trying to say to him, or what you want him to understand. 

“My father didn’t like me, either,” Aaron says, encouraging you to keep walking to the car. “He was not a nice person. And it absolutely affected how I feel now, even if I don’t always think about him. The way he treated me when I was young influenced the person I am now. And looking for the things I wish he was, looking for kindness, for a gentle partner, it doesn’t mean that I need a placeholder for him, does it? I know what you’re saying to me. Don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to be looked after.” 

You can’t help breathing out a sigh of relief. “Right.” 

“I’ve never been a young woman, and I don’t have a daughter, but it’s not hard to imagine how you felt. It’s okay to wish you’d been loved properly.” 

“I was never a daddy’s girl,” you confess. 

“It’s not fair. Everyone wants to be treasured when they're a kid. And it makes sense that you’re still looking for that feeling. We both know it’s not the same, but I really will look after you.” He smiles. “Okay?” 

“Okay. Sorry if it’s too weird.” 

“It’s not weird to want someone who takes care of you.” 

You bring your hands to his face. They’re smaller than his, you’ve shorter fingers with softer palms, but they fit perfectly on his cheeks. You tease the scratchy hill of his chin with your thumb before closing your eyes, reaching up for a kiss. The bags hanging from your elbows crack, crushed as Aaron gets his hands behind your back to hold you. 

“You’re too good to me,” you say softly, returning flat to your heels. 

Aaron pulls your face back to kiss your cheek. “You deserve everything you get, honey. I promise.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…

Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-

He’s insulted.

You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!

It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!

Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.

His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.

You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.

Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.

When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.

On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.

Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.

Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.

And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’

And you’re like: ‘well what?’

And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’

Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.

You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’

Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’

You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.

‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘

‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’

You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’

‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.

Damian acts indifferent about it.

He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!

He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)

So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.

Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.

Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’

Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.

‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;

‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’

[sunflowerwinds]

OKAY I really love your sevika fics and your pinned says requests open and I apologize if THIS IS WEIRD but I have an idea - thigh riding with sevika CAUSE LIKE SHE HAS 😭 REALLYNICE THIGHS LIKE REALLY NICE THEYRE SO MUSCLY oooooh

a little help | s.a

summary: you’ve been feeling a bit more self conscious about your body which seems noticed by sevika. you agree to help her workout but what you don’t expect is to get something out of it too.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: mature content (18+) MEN & MINORS DNI, talks of body image and weight insecurity, restricting food consumption (only happens once), smut including thigh riding (as requested 🫣), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), body worship, SO MUCH PRAISE!!!

word count: 3.7K

a/n: i sort self inserted due to the fact that i wrote this when i was extremely insecure. i hope everyone enjoys! thank you angels <3

When Sevika asked you to help her ‘workout’, you assumed that meant just being her spotter at her little makeshift gym in your home.

As you stepped into said gym in your basic loungewear, you glanced over at Sevika’s stretching figure. Your eyes linger down her revealed toned body, a cropped tank top covering half of her torso and a pair of running shorts hugging her bottom half.

You were shamelessly gawking at her toned figure but snapped back into reality when you heard her clear her throat. Your eyes shot to hers, your cheeks hot from the attention.

“You ready?” Sevika hums as she flexes her open-finger gloved hands.

You nod but your brows furrow before pointing at the different equipment setups.

“Where do you want to start?”

Sevika motioned to the flat weight bench, tilting her head at you.

“Hip thrusts, baby,” she leans down to peck your lips. “It’s leg day.”

You glance at her legs subconsciously, admiring her tight and toned quads. You swore leg day was every day with how perfect her legs looked but you wouldn’t argue. The day that happens, you’d hoped someone would shoot you.

You wait patiently for her to grab her barbell but when she doesn’t move, you frown.

“Do you want… me to grab it?” You point to the silver bar, on the verge of moving your feet.

Sevika shakes her head and holds her hand out to signal for you to stop. You were confused. Why did she want you here?

As Sevika situates herself in the hip thrust position on the flat bench, she grins at you as she pats one of her thighs: “You’re going to be my weight today.”

You stare at her, the heat in your cheeks heightens in temperature.

“What?” Your voice is soft, uncertain of what you heard.

Sevika, annoyingly cocky, glances down her lap, eyebrows raising at your taken-aback state.

“You heard me. Come on, baby.”

You hesitantly stride over to her, now up close and personal with your girlfriend. Your eyes carefully trailed up for her strip of stomach, the intention of her abs and v-line making your head spin.

“I-I don’t know. Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sevika couldn’t help but chuckle at your words. A frown settles on your lips at her soft laughter.

You have been having a lot of weight and body image issues lately. It came and left in waves; attacking you when you least expected it. You always tried to hide it from Sevika, knowing how she would react. You were aware of the strength that Sevika held. It was obvious in her figure how much muscle she carried.

That, on most days, was enough reassurance that you weren’t too big for her. But on uncomfortable days like today, it was harder to see how she could be okay with how you look; that she truly enjoyed seeing you in this body you were trapped in.

You should’ve seen this coming as your first mistake was eating a much smaller breakfast than you usually did. Sevika had a permanently confused expression during the duration of you two eating together domestically at the dinner table.

“Everything okay, baby?” A simple question but her eyes were locked on the small portions on your plate.

You panicked as you were the worst liar in the world. Sevika knew this. She’s testing you, your mind shouted.

“No, yeah. I’m okay. Just not super hungry this morning,” you tell her as you look down at the plate, avoiding her intense gray eyes.

Sevika, everything but convinced, eyed you simply pushing around the fruit and eggs on your plate. After breakfast, Sevika became more touchy with you. It wasn’t helping as much as she thought it was.

It made you aware of the skin you were in and you wanted to burst into tears. You were relieved when she said she was going to change into her athleisure for a quick workout session.

Now, here you were just as afraid and self-conscious as before.

Sevika’s mechanical hand reaches for your waist, careful to not tug you too harshly, a more worried expression on her face.

“Angel, you won’t hurt me. Trust me.”

A lump settled in your throat. You didn’t mean to tense but you did the second she touched you. Sevika’s brows twitch at the sight but she’s patient with you. Carefully settling yourself on her lap, you place your hands on the exposed skin of her torso to steady yourself. You blush at the feeling of the muscles contracting at the touch.

Sevika assists you by holding your hips firmly. The cool metal sent shivers up your spine, staring down at her awaiting figure.

“I’m not too much, right?” You question insecurely.

“No,” she retorts, raising her brows as she begins to lower her hips so your body moves with her. “You are just right for me, baby.”

A heat trickles up your neck to your cheeks and the tip of your ears at the gentle praise Sevika is giving you. You weren’t really sure what to do in this position other than stare at your girlfriend underneath you. The sight of her abs contracting underneath your palms that were laid gently on the skin excited you in the most raunchiest way.

Was this view supposed to be so lewd? Or were you simply obsessed with her?

Both could be very true.

“See?” Sevika spoke up, snapping you out of your lust-driven stare. “This is easy. I could go all night with you on top of me. You should know this by now, my love.”

Gods, you swore your cheeks had a permanent blush burned into them from her alone. You knew she was referencing the many times you’ve blissfully rode her until you were shaking and begging for more, more, more. Sevika was more than cocky about that.

“Sev,” you shake your head, allowing yourself to take in the teasing that you knew was out of love.

The gray-eyed woman merely chuckles at your admirably shy state. No matter how many times she would praise you, kiss you, fuck you, you managed to be so timid around her. She knew the grasp she had on you but if you only could begin to understand the place in her heart she held for you.

She was more than elated to be able to constantly remind you of this. To be rid of those horrid thoughts that would make her perfect girl forget how much she means to her.

“If you could only see how beautiful you look. Not just right now, every single fucking day.”

Sevika’s hands, the cold contrasting with the warmth, lightly held you in your place as she continued to do her usual hip thrusts. There was not even a droplet of sweat on her body and you were in awe.

“You’re beautiful, too, Sev.” You try to discreetly shove the attention off of you.

It would never work in this situation.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” she shakes her head as she routinely does her hip thrusts, a soft grunt leaving her distracting lips.

“Doesn’t make it not true, though, baby,” you hum as a matter-of-factly.

The woman underneath you was an extremely expressive person. Her face said what her mouth didn’t so when you locked eyes with her after refusing the praise, you knew you were in for it.

Her gray eyes were dilated with what you could only assume was frustration. Guilt flooded your system as you opened your mouth, ready to say a thousand apologies.

“I’m so—”

Sevika cuts you off abruptly stopping her hip thrusts and a stern expression. “No. No sorries.”

“Sevika, I’m fine. You really didn’t have to do this.” You sigh and shake your head, feeling embarrassed once again that you were feeling so ridiculously insecure.

Sevika’s brows rise at your words, sniffling her nose as she shifts her hips so that you lean more on your weight on her lower abdomen. You let out a noise of surprise at the jolt and your hands now rest more on her ribcage.

She speaks gently, rubbing her both hands over your waist, and asks a simple one-word question: “Shower?”

The atmosphere in the bathroom was… eerily erotic. Sevika had detached her mechanic arm before the shower as she didn’t want it to rust so she was slowly removing her clothing with one hand now. You were reluctant to remove your own loungewear but you knew you couldn’t shower with your clothes on.

Sevika’s thick fingers hooked on the waistband of her shorts and leisurely tugged them down her meaty thighs. You blush as her underwear tugs down a bit to reveal her strip of hair above her pubic bone.

The shower head had already turned on, allowing the cool water to pass and the hot to follow. You took your time removing your pants, letting the fabric hit the ground along with Sevika’s. Your eyes catch her own as she tugs down her underwear now. She jerked her head towards her taller frame, hoping you’d come closer to her.

The two of you carefully removed each other’s clothing as you refrained from glancing at the slightly cracked mirror above the sink. Sevika, to no surprise, kept her gentle and loving composure as she traced her fingers over your skin after every removal of clothing.

Every stretch mark, bump, dots of cellulite, marks, and clumsy bruises was touched with worship. No one had spoken a single word through the entirety of it. You both hopped in the shower once the steam began to fog up the mirror, careful not to slip on the tub or curtain.

“What happened?” Sevika hums as she reaches for the soap.

You knew what she meant, pushing a few wet strands of hair out of your face. What triggered this rotten feeling?

“I don’t know. One of those days, I guess.” You respond with a sigh.

Sevika nods in understanding, squirting some of the soap on the loofah that was hanging on the small shower caddy.

“Do you think my scars are ugly?” Sevika questions, loofah in hand.

Your neck nearly breaks as you look up from the base of the tub to meet her mesmerizing gaze. You shook your head rapidly as your eyes followed the blue scars that began at the apple of her right cheek tracing down the side of her torso to her hip bone.

“No, of course not.” You frown.

“Why is it different for you then, baby? Hmm?” She questions as she begins to scrub at your neckline.

The question made you think for a moment. Sevika was patient with you as she continued to wash your upper body.

“It’s… easier to be mean to myself than nice,” you respond carefully looking up at her as you swallow the lump in your throat.

Sevika couldn’t believe her ears. Her eyes round with affliction at your words.

“Baby.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sevika shakes her head as she shushes you, scrubbing down your body with nothing but tenderness and consideration. You refrain from making eye contact with her, afraid you’ll burst into tears at the vulnerability.

“You always tell me that I don’t need to go through things alone. The same goes for you.”

You frown at her words, hit with the obvious hypocrisy. You couldn’t even conjure up an argument as she was right.

“It feels different,” you attempt as you watch her kneel down to scrub at your legs.

Sevika hummed a disapproving sound, glancing up at you as she stood back up on her feet. You avoid her eye line as you let the water rinse the suds of soap off of your body.

“Angel,” she sets the loofah aside, cupping your face with her hand. “You deserve to feel just as good about yourself and your body just as much as me. No matter what your mind is making you believe.”

You knew she was right. It is just so much easier to belittle yourself than to accept praise.

“I know. I’m… trying.”

Sevika leans down to kiss you gently, humming against your lips. You eagerly follow her lips reaching up to cup the sides of her neck.

“Baby, I love you,” she pulls away lightly to whisper against your lips breathily. “More than anything.”

“I love you more.” You whisper with a soft laugh, already feeling more joyful than just a few seconds ago.

Sevika beams at the clear sign of your mood changing, lifting you out of that evil lingering in your mind. You detach your lips with a soft smack to grab the loofah and start to scrub at her body just as she did yours. Sevika carefully watches you with attentive eyes.

As you scrub the thin layer of grime and sweat from her workout, trying your hardest to not get distracted by her sculpted figure. Sevika’s palm carefully moves down from your soft shoulders.

You shiver at the feeling of her thick fingers lingering down your body. You try not to make it obvious how much you wanted to shove her hand in between your legs but you inching forward into her body gave that away.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” she praises as her fingers trace to the soft of your stomach.

You suck in a deep breath as you mutter a ‘thank you’ in response to the sweet words. Sevika leans in closer to you, your hand nearly dropping the loofah when she just barely brushes her fingers right above your cunt. Your eyes flutter as you angle your hips, looking up at her with a dazed look.

“Can you touch me please?” You whisper.

Sevika attempts to hide her glee but she smiles as she cranes her neck down to place long, loving kisses on the length of your neck. “Of course, baby. Just relax. Let yourself feel good for me, okay?”

You nod rapidly at the words as she uses her middle finger to tease through your folds. You gasp softly as Sevika carefully slides her thick finger into your warm cunt, the water from the shower head dripping down her strong forearm. It was surprisingly beautiful sightseeing her inside of you.

Your hips grind down on her finger as she slowly pumps the finger in and out of you. Goosebumps rose to your skin at the stretch of her, whimpering as she slid another finger into you. Her pointer and middle thrusts in and out of you, her lips littering every patch of skin she could access in lingering kisses.

“There you go. Just needed a reminder about how fucking beautiful you are, hmm?” Sevika breathily questions against your cheek, another sloppy kiss to your skin.

You nod at her words, a hand tightly gripping Sevika’s bicep to keep yourself grounded.

“Yeah, I did. I love the way you make me feel, baby,” you use your other hand to pull her into a soft kiss.

Sevika inhales deeply as she moves her lips against your own, greedily fucking her fingers into you. She couldn’t get enough of the addicting feeling of your walls clenching around her. You ghost your lips over hers to softly moan into her hot mouth.

You couldn’t believe how much she was reaching with just her fingers.

“Sevi, can I—” You shiver at the feeling of her curling her fingers inside of you, your moaning cutting you off. “Can I ride your thigh, please? Been thinkin’ about it since watching you workout earlier.”

The muscular woman lets out a low chuckle at the question, kissing your temple.

“How could I say no to my perfect girl?”

“You can,” you quip, muttering a curse under your breath as she picks up her pace.

Sevika smiles softly at your words, tilting her head to force eye contact with you. You flush underneath her stunning gray gaze, overwhelmed with the amount of love radiating from her eyes.

“Fuck, I love you,” she kisses you softly, heavy breathing against your lips.

You follow her lips with a soft ‘hmph’. “I love you, Sev.”

Sevika slows her fingers that were inside of you to carefully remove them. As much as you knew she had to take them out, you loathed the empty feeling.

She held her fingers up to her lips to suck off the arousal before the shower got to them.

Sevika could consume you until her last breath.

She helped adjust you so that her leg was placed in between your legs. You sigh at the pressure against your clit, the tight skin that you had been craving against your skin.

You shiver as you rut your aching clit on Sevika’s muscular thigh, hands gripping onto her broad shoulders. A low moan leaves your mouth as you try not to become too greedy with your movements. Sevika’s head buries itself into the crook of your neck, placing ever-so-soft kisses on the damp skin. The hot water was pattering and trickling down the length of her back.

She was holding you up solely by her leg strength, an encouraging palm on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful.” One kiss to the length of your neck. “My beautiful girl.” Another behind your ear.

You preen with a soft gasp as her grip tightens on you, helping you grind down on her thigh. Your hands glide up to cup underneath her jaw, silently begging to see her face. Sevika detaches her lips from your skin to press her lips to yours, humming against your mouth.

The smacking of your messy kisses and Sevika’s tongue swiping over yours and into your mouth caused your cunt to clench around nothing. Your legs were burning at this point from how much you were feverishly grinding your hips down on her.

“Baby,” you whine against her lips as you grip her face to keep her close to you.

“Yeah?” She taunts, brushing her lips hungrily on yours.

“I wanna cum. Please,” you beg.

There was a familiar tightening feeling in your gut, tilting your head back to rest against the tile as you shakily kept your movements going. Sevika stares down at you with a mix of love and lust, watching you get yourself off on her thigh.

So beautifully obscene for her.

“You can cum for me. You’re doing so good, angel.” She taunts, muttering a curse at the sight of your ruts weakening.

“Sevi, please.” You whine, becoming more and more frustrated.

Your orgasm was teasing at your lower spine as you tried to pick up the speed. The inner part of your thighs were burning now, eyes prickling with tears. Sevika places loving and long kisses all over the soft of your face.

“Okay, baby. Keep moving those perfect hips for me, okay? I’ll help grind them down so you can cum for me.”

The subtle sneaks of praise weren’t helping with your need to cum. She made you feel like the best version of yourself while learning to feel it on your own.

You mutter a breathy ‘okay’ as you keep going, nearly losing balance as you feel Sevika’s strong palm gripping your right hip. She, too, lifted her knee slightly upwards to apply more pressure to your aching clit. You moan loudly at the feeling, nodding rapidly at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. My perfect girl.” Sevika lowly moans at the sight.

The water made your body glisten like a painting hung up in a museum. She shook her head in disbelief at how someone could be so many beautiful things all at once.

“So good to me, baby,” you whisper as you cup her neck.

“You deserve it. Every fucking good thing.” Sevika breathily pants as she listens for your moans pitch change.

Your hands loosen from her neck to completely wrap your arms around it, burying your face into the crook of her neck to silence your breathy and whiny moans. Sevika presses loving kisses on the side of your head as she continues to assist your hip movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” you pull away slightly to whimper in her ear.

Sevika felt a shiver run down the length of her broad back at the sound, eyes shutting to take it in. She continued to shower you with kisses along with the water that was lukewarm at this point.

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my thigh for me.”

You hold onto her tightly as you whine against her slightly scarred neck, sloppily kissing the skin. Sevika moans softly at the feeling, craning her neck upward. The water from the showerhead fell over her face, dribbling past her open mouth and over your head.

You nearly slip as your orgasm rips through your lower abdomen, lathering the toned quad with your cum. You pant hotly against her skin as your hips slow down to not overstimulate your throbbing cunt.

“Sevi,” you shiver as you keep your grip around her neck.

Sevika hums as she mindfully removes her thigh from in between your quivering legs. She held you up by the waist with her arm as you both swayed underneath the borderline-cool water.

“Was that good?” She questions lovingly, waiting for you to pull away when you are ready.

You snort with a shake of your, muttering a ‘fuck you’ playfully against her skin. Sevika chuckles lowly as she feels your head tilt up to kiss her jaw.

“You know, technically, I made myself cum.” You tease, nosing underneath her jaw.

Sevika’s brows furrow at your words, looking down at you with an offended expression. You beam up at her, tilting your head to the side.

“Oh, so what was me fingering you then?” She remarks.

“Okay, you helped a little,” you continue.

Sevika, unsatisfied with your answer, leans down to bury her face into the crook of your neck to tickle at the skin with her nose. You laugh at the feeling of your girlfriend’s smile on your skin, gasping when the sudden ice-cold water runs over your bodies. Sevika curses as she releases your waist to reach for the knob to turn off the water that was prickling your skin.

The two of you hop out of the shower mere seconds after being hit with the freezing water, unable to detach yourselves from one other. After drying off and putting on some everyday clothes, Sevika and you settle into your shared bed. Your limbs tangle as you find comfort in each other’s warmth.

Every lingering thought of insecurity was suppressed for the time being. With each passing day spent with Sevika, you were bound to never have to feel that way again.

TAG-LIST: @eilishxo @ivyfalsegod @archangeldyke-all @auraclus @lavenderbabu @thewonderlandish @elliessgfsstuff @devilsangelxxx16 @hwasddeongbyeoli @saturnknows @scp116 @iwillpokeyouwithmyknife @cicato @angelcorner @doppelman @suui3 @vaneplvblog @naomqq @lovinglynny @gravegoer @sapphicarribean @yaeil @ladycupa0-0 @cherry-n-cheeks @k4tz4 @vqmpxre @lanaismotherrrrrrr @chaostudi @lazycat-things @satansfinest9 @soodle-noup @themostlesbianever @hafisjfjsit @cucumbernimbis @maaaaaaaaaaari @amoraeu @angelynn-nicole @mall-fountain-daydream @iamaboringrattat @slingshotsniperking @thesevi0lentdelights @bilsvlt @thalchmy @chatimfinnacrashout @luizadms @peanutbutterprincess @ivana1999999-blog @strawberrykidneystone @halle5s @foreingersgod @tyra-is-so-delulu @fuzzycucumber @biblicallyaccuratemusclemommy @xoxomymyy @hearts4joongie @srtctra @hellokittyfeenie @pookiewookiebazooka @debs171110 @lesbodietcoke @hearts4caitlin (TAGS CONT. IN THE COMMENTS)

[mxrcurysb1tch]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ 💌 Venus through the signs pt. 11 💌 ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

☽｡⋆ Thank you guys sm for the support on the first one, here is part 2! Also thank you guys sm for almost 600 followers?? That’s crazy! As always, take what resonates and leave the rest! xo

☽｡⋆ Libra Venus- Often thought of as superficial but this is nothing more than a generalisation. Charming and full of social graces, this venus knows how to make people feel loved. Detached enough to not feel the sting of unrequited love too deeply but also extremely committed and willing to completely merge lives, that is the somewhat dual nature of Libra. Just don’t ask them to plan the wedding because no decisions are getting made! They are happy to let you take the lead in love and if they trust you they are easygoing and see the good side of every one they meet. You can always count on a Libra Venus to make you feel special and cared about. They’re infinitely sweet and calming to be around.

☽｡⋆ Scorpio Venus- You belong to me. Passion is the game here. Scorpio Venus does not want partners who are only in it for a fling. They want to merge souls. I know it’s a cliche but they want depth and unwavering commitment. Sometimes it can border on control and jealousy if they aren’t careful. They are incredibly discrete lovers and will never cause a public scene or be one for PDA but they are extremely intense and passionate. If you are looking for somebody who can see into your soul and explore your inner depths with you, look no further. They’re super observant too, and will likely go above and beyond to please and win the affections of the one that has their heart because truly once you’ve captivated them, you’re not going to shrug them off all that easily.

☽｡⋆ Sagittarius Venus- A love that acts as a safe landing and allows them to explore is what they desire. This does not mean that they’re disloyal, simply that they are in love with all of the journeys and opportunities that life has to offer them. They won’t be comfortable with a partner who wants to clip their wings and offer them nothing except routine and practicality. The ideal partner for a sag Venus is someone who wants to grow with them and inspire them on their various life paths. They want to be with someone interesting, fun and idealistic like them. The issue here may be their reluctance to discuss anything tangible and permanent. They can be rather slippery and hard to pin down, and they will be the first to run away when things get too real! All in all though they’re incredibly upbeat and exciting lovers and they can seriously broaden your horizons.

☽｡⋆ Capricorn Venus- This Venus has a certain sweetness to it. Maybe they don’t get carried away with romantic fantasies or delusions (at least not outwardly) but they would do anything for their loved ones. They offer such a stable, practical love that is hard to not appreciate. They might know exactly what it is you need and get it for you without so much as a fuss. They also aren’t scared of playing the long game as they know what they want and know that good things take time. That is what makes Capricorn Venus so romantic, their dedication and their quiet love. Their thoughtful gestures will make you glow warm inside. Once this Venus has decided what they want there is no match to their loyalty and commitment.

☽｡⋆ Aquarius Venus- This venus is not a romantic in the traditional sense. Out of all the Venus signs this is the one that is most likely to be uninterested in monogamy. They may have many friends and are extremely kind and supportive towards the people in their life. However, their one true love is their restless pursuit of knowledge and change. This may just prevent them from wanting to be tied down by the shackles of a relationship. Should they decide they are interested in commitment though, it will be with someone who can respect their lofty goals and idealistic visions. Love won’t be at the forefront of their agenda and they will need somebody who can understand that. Love is something that is uplifting to them but not life changing, they know that love and romance won’t save them. They can be very inspiring and interesting partners.

☽｡⋆ Pisces Venus- oh sweet Pisces Venus. There’s a reason that this Venus is exalted. Extremely artistic and caring, they pour all of their emotions into love. There are no boundaries or restrictions here, they will give their all in relationships. Their ability to romanticise their partners might rival even cancer Venus. Unfortunately for them though they might get taken advantage of by those that want to corrupt their innocence and purity. They’re not all naive though, they just want to make the best out of what life has handed them and that is an admirable thing. They just have to be careful not to linger around too long when things are sour because they are chasing a dream. They are insanely sweet people though and this is shown through in all of their close relationships.

[salem-s]

11 ── PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN ── RAFE CAMERON

── SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. ── WARNINGS language, angst, fluff if you squint. 18+ mdni. ── WORD COUNT 4.4k. i think this is my shortest one yet? ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. one more chapter left after this one EEEEK!! ── SERIES MASTERLIST | LAST PART ── SONG OF THE CHAPTER japanese denim by daniel caesar

The long run doesn’t feel so nice. 

It’s finals week, and its implications do nothing to aide the dull ache that’s weighing in your gut. The grueling hours spent studying and hunched over desks only pile onto your list of problems, and that’s only the physicality of your issues. Besides the permanent kink in your shoulder from your poor posture, your body is depleting due to the emotional stress that strains your heart.

Even though he’s right next door, you don't see or hear Rafe since his cold departure.

You want to believe it’s a good thing, it’s what you wanted, it’s quite literally what you asked for. But you can’t help but long for him, knowing he’s just on the other side of the wall, wondering if he’s feeling just as awful as you.

But there’s nothing.

You only heard him once while you were studying, and the second you heard another girl’s voice with him, you bolted out of the dorm and beelined to the library. 

So you don't study in your room anymore. 

Not that it changes much, because you don’t even spot him on campus or lounging on the quad with friends. There are no late night texts, no loud music blasting through the thin walls, no presence at Elliot’s house. Nothing. For such a tall person, you’re shocked at his ability to lay low.

Because you’re certain that he purposefully avoids you.

You know he knows your schedule since he used to coincidentally be walking home from class at the same time, even though he never had classes in the same building as you. He used to just happen to open his door at the same time as you with a backpack slung over his shoulder, simply stating he’s going to the library but the company on his walk would be nice. Once he even loitered outside your academic building after you had had a tough exam, claiming the grassy patch adjacent to the building is the best place to lay.

Now Rafe does none of that. He’s a ghost. 

The only time you caught a glimpse of him was at a nearby coffee shop. Seeing him nearly kills you.

You'd been stopping in to refuel to cram study for a final later that day, nearly spilling your espresso infused drink on his nice white shirt on your way out. Bumping into him sent a shiver down your spine, the physical contact a pure shock to both of you as you stood motionless in the crowded cafe, eyes only trained on each other.

It was hard to even find words at the sight of his pretty eyes, ones that looked tired despite the surprise look on his face.

But the shock came and went as Rafe had been cordial, offering a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and side-stepping out of your way without his usual Rafe-like banter. He was walking away from you before you could really say anything to him, the only word in the entire exchange being a meek, “Sorry,” on your end that was said too late, as he was already out of earshot by the time you found the words.

You weren’t sure what you were sorry for this time.

Almost spilling your drink on him. Accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. Shutting him out. Putting him through an emotional wringer. Pushing him away at every opportunity you can.

Needless to say, you've been spiraling. 

Especially when Lorenza gives you a call a few hours before your coding exam, mainly to check in and make sure your cut is healing alright (it's practically gone, but the reminder still stays). You converse as normal, lamenting about all the projects and finals you have going on and that you're seeing your friends later.

Lorenza asks if that includes Rafe.

And hearing his name makes you go quiet. And she takes that as the hint to continue talking about him, asking if you've talked to him since the day you got back. When you tell her that, no, you haven't had time to talk to him about anything, she hums over the phone, almost scolding you wordlessly for letting it get this far.

"Probabilmente anche sta soffrendo," Lorenza tells you, stating it like a fact.

You respond that, no, he's not hurting. That he's probably fine, and that you're fine too. You're both just busy with schoolwork and personal lives and everything on top of that.

"Hai parlato con lui?"

No, you tell her, you haven't talked to him.

"Allora come lo sapresti?"

You offer no response. Because you don't know how he is. You wouldn't know if he's hurt or not because you haven't talk to him, nor can you find the gall to do so.

Her incessant pestering makes your face flush and your heart slump to your gut, settling some uneasy feeling there for the remainder of the day. Because she's right: you know you need to talk to him, even if it's just to check in and see how he is, because he deserves, at the least, an apology for how you've treated him.

It's all you can think about during your exam.

Yet finally, after day and night of burying your head in textbooks and nearly crawling through your computer screen to figure out your codes, it's your last final, and it comes and goes regardless of how much you think about Rafe during it.

It's the last Thursday before everyone’s forced to leave for winter break, one of the last few days you'll get to see your friends before the New Year, so despite your aching shoulders and pounding headache, you accept the invitation to drink and party at Elliot’s off campus house. 

Lorenza's words echo in your head all afternoon. He's probably hurting, too. You hope that isn't true, you hope he's just been burying himself in schoolwork and being distracted in a good way to keep himself busy. You hope he doesn't have any sleepless nights. You hope he's seeing other people to get back to a sense of normalcy.

You think about the possibility of seeing him at Elliot's, since they're best friends and all. You think about all the things you could say to him, how many I'm sorrys you can utter before he'll believe it. But you know yourself, and you'd probably never get the words out at the sight of him. Part of you really doesn't want to do it tonight.

But the other part of you also hopes Rafe's there. Maybe force him into a room so you can apologize to him (that is, if you can find the words).

When you arrive, your friends embrace you endearingly. First come the congratulations for finishing all of your finals, then the drinks are immediately second.

Marianne doesn’t waste time pushing a cocktail in your hand and throwing an arm over your shoulder, guiding you deeper into the party where your closest friends (amongst a lot of others you don't care for) mingle and laugh and sing. 

Although your mind drifts for the better part of it. You can’t help but continuously scan the crowd in search of him, feeling that stupid nagging pull in your chest the longer the party goes by without him. The nagging eventually morphs into guilt.

Did he know you were coming and that’s why he’s not here? Are you driving a wedge between your friend group because of your blatant insecurities?

"Hey," Marianne whispers to you after an hour. “You’re goat-staring.”

“Hm?” You snaps out of your trance, unaware you've been staring at that same speck on the wall for ages. “Oh.”

Your friend doesn’t let the act go unnoticed, darting her gaze around you cautiously before leaning in close. “Are you sure you’re alright? I mean you’ve barely spoken about the–”

“I’m fine,” you reassure, giving it your all to fake a smile. “Honest. I don’t want to think about it tonight.”

I can't not think about it, you want to say. Especially because he's not here.

Marianne simply raises her eyebrows, wordlessly prompting you for more. 

But you don't give into her instigation. “I’ll tell you about it soon, I promise. Just…not tonight.”

That’s all it takes for now. 

Because no shit the whole Rafe situation has been a damper to your conscience ever since your last morning together, no debates there, but the thought of rehashing it from the start makes your head spin. You try and blink away flashes of him: his pained expression on the dance floor, the image of him and Yara in the closet, his pretty face inches from yours coaxed in sunlight. He’s a plague in your mind, infesting your every waking thought. It’s draining. It’s emotionally exhausting. You forget how to not let your mind drift back to him, him, him.

To make your head spin further, you attempt to rise from your zombie-like state and join the party. You take a shot, open another drink, dance with Marianne and catch up with your friends.

For the most part, it serves as a nice distraction, even if you can't really get drunk.

But there’s a big gaping hole in your heart: the guilt that he, Rafe, is nowhere to be seen.

It’s odd without him, the room feeling incomplete without his presence, his laughter, his jabby one liners. It’s rare for him to miss a party, let alone one this big and festive, and there’s a harsh pull in your chest, because you feel responsible for his absence. Maybe you being here made him uncomfortable, so he opted to stay back. 

“Hey, Bear.”

Elliot is suddenly at your side, beaming and using your inside-joke nickname (you debate the semantics of why Paddington's marmalade sandwiches don't seem to mold once), after finding yourself staring at another indent on the wall. Your eyes glance at your watch, frowning at the time passed.

Have you really been sitting and sulking and thinking about Rafe for that long?

“How’d your coding sesh go?”

You shake the sulking demeanor away and take a large sip of your drink. “I’m just happy it’s over.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad?”

You wince. It could’ve, and it was. Throughout the entirety of it, your thoughts kept lingering back to a certain someone. 

“Ah,” Elliot says, waving it off nonchalantly after you don't respond. “T’s all bullshit, anyway. Besides, it couldn’t have been worse than my statistics final. I think I left three questions blank.”

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t you say it was open note?”

Elliot simply shrugs, and you laugh, rolling your eyes at your friend. 

“I stand corrected, then.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation, Elliot being the friend you clicked with the best out of all of Rafe’s friends. He’s like the mayor, knowing everyone and being friends with everyone, making sure to chat with every single person who comes to his house even if he doesn’t know them. He’s a great guy to have in your corner, because despite being beloved by everyone, he’s especially protective and appreciative of his favorites. 

He makes time for you and Marianne despite the line of people out the door waiting to say hello to him. Elliot has his priorities set. For now. 

“So, what gives?”

The two of you sit on the stairs twenty minutes later, tucked away from the crowds but still immersed in the pounding bass and echoed laughter. Your backs rest on opposite walls, you sitting one step above him.

Partially, you came here in the first place to stand guard so randoms don’t walk upstairs (as that has happened once, where a guy in a frat down the street mistook this for his house and slept in Elliot's bed without anyone noticing him walk in). But the estrangement from the chaos is nice, and you rarely get to be with Elliot one on one without someone needing him for something, so you stay. 

Yet your conversation was going so well, lighthearted about something your other friend Sydney said to him the other day. But not anymore, as now he's looking to you expectantly for answers, answers you're not ready to give.

You frown. “What?”

Elliot gives you a pointed look. “Bear,” he deadpans as if it’s obvious, scoffing at your deflection.

All you can do is shrug, prompting him to say more.

“You go to Italy with my best friend for a week and neither of you are saying anything about it?” He throws his hand up. “What the hell happened?”

How much time does he have? Because there is a lot of ground to cover on the simplicity of what happened. What happened was you underestimated his best friend to the point where your real feelings clashed with your fake feelings and the concept of instigating something more made you experience symptoms of a heart attack.

Right. As if it’s easy.

So you settle for the safe response.

“Nothing…happened.”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Try and convince me next time.”

You rolls your eyes and dismiss his comment by taking a sip of your drink. The tequila feels stronger than before, now that you have the partial liquid courage to spill the truth. 

To your knowledge, your friends don’t know about your arrangement, or at least you don't think they know. Sometimes you and Rafe wouldn’t be subtle with your lingering touches and glances at parties, sometimes disappearing together for about ten minutes and coming back as if nothing happened, sometimes your bickering banter would turn flirty with toothy grins and prolonged eye contact. 

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they figured it out. But it’s not like it’s happening anymore. 

“Clearly something happened,” he sing-songs, taking a sip of his drink, almost instigating you. "You're sulking."

You're not falling for it. "Well, it already seems like you know."

He narrows his eyes. "I may know...some things." Then he adds quickly, "Why? What do you know?"

"Elliot."

"Bear. We can play this game all night."

You let out a sigh so gutturally deep that it elongates the silence between you.

Based on the faux quizzical brow and the slightly knowing gleam in his eye, Rafe must've told Elliot the bare minimum of the story, probably eager to hear your side of the coin and play his favorite role: therapist. This wouldn't be the first time you've lamented to him about your problems, and vice versa.

But this is different. This is his best friend. Rafe and Elliot. Elliot and Rafe. Conjoined at the hip since freshmen year when they were randomly assigned roommates. Under any circumstance, it feels wrong to essentially shit-talk that person's best friend, regardless if you need to get it off your chest or not.

You can't. Not right now.

So instead, you opt for a simple shake of your head, wordlessly pleading for him to drop it.

For a moment, Elliot secedes begrudgingly, but also with understanding. The two of you sit in your manual silence, quietly sipping your drinks and letting the attempt to story-tell sit idly in the air. Frankly, you'd love to get his input, but you already know what he'll say to you, what he'll suggest you do.

And right now, you're not sure you can stomach the thought of running back into Rafe's arms, not when you're absolutely sure he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

After a moment of silence, he bites. “He told me about you two.”

Your heart skips.

Well, that confirms your earlier suspicions.

He continues quietly, more direct. “Before you went on the trip. How you’d see each other sometimes.”

Sometimes doesn’t even cut it. There’d be times you'd see each other everyday, other times you'd go a week or two with nothing. It felt like everything and nothing all at once. 

You look down at your friend, unable to find words. 

But Elliot’s always been chatty, always knows how to fill a silence. “I don’t want to know…everything,” he grimaces at the insinuation. “But I just want you two to be alright. You’re both stubborn as fuck and your miscommunication tendencies drive me insane, but you guys will figure it out. Whatever it is.”

Your mouth reacts before your mind. “Doesn’t matter what it was. I fucked it up.”

“I doubt that.”

“I do,” you say softly, dejected. “All I do is push people away.”

Elliot shrugs. “Well, that might be true. But some people need a shove.”

You snort unattractively. “What? Like you and Sydney?”

The blush that rises to his face makes him nudge you with his knee, turning away as a sheepish grin rises on his lips.

“Stop trying to change the subject. I’m charging by the hour, so get it all out now.”

You find it in yourself to chuckle, “Shut up.”

But it quickly simmers into silence, a raw ache settling in your throat at the verity of it all. There's nothing to fix, nothing to heal, minimal things to mend. Well, if anyone's good at a pep talk, it would be Elliot, and frankly the tequila feels hot in your chest, hot enough for you to talk about it only for a little bit.

Playing with the loose hem on your shirt, you avoid his awaiting eyes, heart heavy with the burden of the last few weeks. It feels like it hasn't been light in forever, hasn't been full or bright. Whenever it gets soft enough, flashes of events that happened under the Sicilian sun come to your mind at the simplest reminders: the color lilac, any mentions of red wine, whiffs of cologne that smell like his.

Sometimes when you see the same shade of blue as his eyes, it makes your heart skip.

You blink away the image of Rafe in your mind.

“It wouldn’t have worked between us anyway. He’s already seeing new people and I can’t–”

“Woah,” Elliot sits up and looks up at you in disbelief. “Where’d you hear that?”

You frown at his sudden seriousness. “Uh, I heard him Monday night with a girl in his room. Not to mention he was letting this girl at the wedding cop a feel–”

“You mean Yara?”

The name makes your heart sink. 

Last week’s mishap flashes in your mind, and the thought of Elliot knowing makes your skin crawl.

Rafe really told Elliot about her? About it all? The image of them together in the closet burns fresh in your memory, and you hate the way your skin feels like it's on fire at the reminder.

Not trusting your words, you nod, both confused and hurt. 

But instead of confirming your worst fears and indulging the horrors of your conscience, Elliot simply scoffs with a chuckle and slaps a hand to his forehead, almost in disbelief and frustration at the same time, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. 

“My god, Bear,” he all but laughs in your face. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Your face runs hot. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me."

Normally, you'd tell someone off if they blatantly called you an idiot, especially right to your face. But this is Elliot— who rarely ever bullshits anything and always speaks from the truth of his heart, no matter how brutal it may be. You know that he knows something you don't.

When you don't respond, he snorts again. "You’re an idiot. You really think he’s bumming around with other girls?”

The question makes your jaw slack. 

“Uh, yeah?”

Elliot’s mocking laugh only pisses you off further. 

You slap his leg. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”

It takes him a moment to come down, for his voice to return back to normal, and he even has the audacity to wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye, taking a long, calculated sip from his beer to prolong your impatience. 

A hand raises to slap him again and he quickly stops messing around. “Elliot.”

Elliot shakes his head again in disbelief and lets out a long breath. “Alright, alright, easy.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re awfully bossy for someone who was literally sulking two minutes ago.”

You raise a hand to slap his leg again, and Elliot wheezes a laugh.

“I yield,” he jests. “I can confirm the Monday girl was Adriana, she’s a good friend of mine. She’s in his photography class and was dropping off his prints he left in lecture by accident. I know because we talked about it literally yesterday. Apparently, she’s in the same dorm as you guys.”

You reel. Photography class? Prints? 

“A lesbian, by the way,” Elliot adds pointedly. 

You hate how considerably lighter your shoulders feel, but mask the relief with a scowl. “Whatever. He still was shacking up with Yara.”

Elliot rolls his eyes so hard you can see the whites of his eyes as his lashes flutter from the intensity of it. “He was looking for you.”

You freeze, but shake it off. 

Her hand on his tie, eyes peering up to him. His hand ghosting over her bicep as if about to touch her. The mere centimeters between their bodies.

Swallowing the image, you frown with a flicker of irritation. “They were in a closet together, so he wasn’t doing a very good job.”

“No, he wasn’t,” he admits gently. “But in his defense, she told him she knew where you were. Apparently he was desperate to follow.”

Your heart skips at the thought of Rafe running around trying to find you after rejecting his proposition. Perhaps if things went differently - as in, you didn't go into that bathroom and instead went somewhere where he could find you - you can't help but wonder what he would've said to you. If he would've apologized for alarming you, or telling you it was a prank, or whatever else he might've done.

But that's a fairytale. It isn't what happened.

"You didn't see them," you say quietly before you can take it back, hating how jealous it makes you seem. "They were-

“He pulled away the moment he could think straight. Said it felt wrong.”

That makes your chest pull. 

“What felt wrong?” You whisper brokenly. 

Elliot shrugs, as if he’s not saying the most heartwrenching antidote. “She wasn’t you.”

I want you.

The words echo in your head, the same words that have been playing on repeat on the back burner of your mind, words that have plagued you because you thought them to be deceitful. They only make your chest ache at the reminder of what happened right after, hearing the words while seeing the image of the two of them together in that closet. The two separate images contradicted each other so heavily, only made the sting of it all worse. 

Only you.

But now it’s different, hearing the side of his story from his closest friend makes all of the pain fade away.

Why would Rafe lie to his best friend?

“For Rafe, it’s different with you,” Elliot says, quieter but firm. “Before he told me you were fucking, he found ways to talk about you, like, all the time. Obviously it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together, but I figured I’d wait for him to tell me.” Then he grins up at you. “Believe me when I say all the time. It was actually infuriating. He even found a way to bring you up during Fortnite, once.”

You manage a ragged laugh. 

Because the anecdote nearly kills you.

You think back to all that time spent silently pining over him, waiting to express your blatant admiration for him until you were both under cotton sheets and able to indulge in vulnerability without any alarm bells ringing. You remember all of the parties you went to and spent a considerable amount of time stealing glances of him across the room, hoping your selfish looks weren’t too obvious. You think about all that time you spent thinking he’d never feel the same about you, about anyone, ever.

“But,” Elliot adds cautiously, more seriously, “we both know how he feels about you. So all that’s left is how you feel.”

Oh, how you want to punch him.

Leave it to Elliot to worm his way into the conversation to gradually get to the real juicy details. He does this: loosens you up, gets you laughing, then hits the million dollar question that, really, is unavoidable. He’s good. 

“I can’t,” is all you say. 

Obviously, Elliot doesn’t allow that. “You can’t what?”

There’s a million answers to that question. “I can’t be who he wants.”

“And what does he want?”

I want you.

You groan. 

Only you. 

There’s no way you can put that into words. “I’m not the kind of person people date, Elliot. I don’t turn heads or make jaws drop. I’m the person you fuck when you’re a little drunk and bored, that’s all. I can’t do more than that. That's all I know.”

“Well, I would argue not,” Elliot responds. “Dating doesn’t exist on this cookie-cutter template, which is what you’re making it out to seem like. Sure, chemistry in bed obviously helps, which you have, yuck–”

You roll your eyes.

“—but it coexists in everything else.” He takes a sip of his drink, calculating his next words. “Rafe told me you guys went on a date.”

Your cheeks flush at the memory, how nice it was, how easy the conversation felt despite dipping into personal territory, how handsome he looked in the moon and candle light, how perfect he was later in bed. It makes you flush.

You cover it with a cough.

“It was for show. It was my birthday and he wanted to impress my nonna.”

“Was your nonna there too?”

Words die in your throat. 

“Well, no–”

“So?” Elliot looks like he’s seconds away from crashing out. “What gives? You’ve been on dates, you hang out all the time–”

“—With other people—”

“Sure, but you’re still in the same room. You bicker like an old married couple and always have to play together in pong. You guys are friends... who like to fuck. Dating is all of that.” Elliot then smacks his lips. “Well, plus the exclusiveness. But everyone basically knows, anyway.”

You hate how easy he makes it sound, as if the days and weeks of doubt meant nothing.

Although as much as you want to keep arguing, keep defending your case, you're getting tired. Your heart fucking aches.

All you can think about when you go to bed nowadays is how much you miss being in his arms, miss his sweet praises and how his hands roam all over your body, practically owning it at this point. The singularity, the possessiveness, it makes you both ache and quiver, the feelings pushing and pulling like a phantom ache in your heart. 

“No one has ever wanted me like this.” Your voice wavers. “It scares the shit out of me.”

Elliot frowns. “If you felt nothing for him, it wouldn’t scare you.”

You straighten your posture. 

The urge to detach yourself from the situation is strong, but the compulsion to run to him is stronger now that you know the truth, the real truth, and can only hope that his offer still stands, can only hope that a meek apology will be enough for him to come out of his radio silent hole. 

Elliot senses your brain clicking its gears into place, a suppressed smile failing to be subtle. "You getting it now?"

You look to him, brows furrowed and eyes glossed with worry. "How can he even forgive me? I-I- He was nothing but nice to me and I..."

Trailing off, your heart pounds as your mind races. The whole trip, Rafe was more than accommodating to fit the role you needed him to fill, even going above and beyond to make sure you had what you needed in times where you were rendered speechless. He bought you a plethora of beautiful things that he absolutely didn't need to do. He checked in on you when you shut down and tried to shield you from the horror that is your family.

I want you.

And you pushed him away. You told him that you didn't feel the same, that you could never feel the same, hoping that would be enough to deter him. But, no, he came back time and time again, and helped you when you needed it the most. He didn't need to. He didn't have to. But he did.

Only you.

"I'm sure if you just talk to him," he says slowly, as if he's on the verge of crashing out, "everything will make sense."

“Is he coming tonight?” You try really hard not to sound desperate, heart pounding.

But Elliot sees right through you, grinning and shaking his head. “He’s in his room. I think he’s the only one on campus with an exam tomorrow morning.”

It doesn’t matter. He could be in another state and frankly you think you'd still find a way to see him. 

“Go.” 

Panic rises like bile in your throat. “But what if he doesn’t–”

“He does,” Elliot reassures gently. Then, he nods towards the door. “Go.”

That green light is more than convincing, rising to your feet on wobbly legs as you clumsily step over his body, barely hearing Elliot’s whoops behind you over the sound of your bass-thumping heart beat.

You have no plan. No onset motion of what you’re going to say to him besides an apology. No guarantee that he still feels the same way or would even want you anymore. No idea how the interaction will go.

But, for once, the excitement outweighs the fear. And for you, that’s more than enough reason to listen to your gut, to go get him.

Without hesitation, a glance to your friends, or your jacket, you race out of his house and into the cold.

Ready to make it right.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work without permission. mdni.

notes next chapter is the last one LMFAO sorry for the blue balls.

[mywritersmind]

TOUCH ME - LN4

summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.

listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!

word count : 747

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.

Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.

She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.

Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.

“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.

“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.

“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.

He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.

“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.

He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”

This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”

“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”

Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”

Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,

1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.

2. Lie.

Two seems safer.

“Of course not.” she shakes her head.

Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.

Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.

“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.

After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.

She jumped up and hugged him.

“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.

“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.

“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”

“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.

She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”

“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.

She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.

She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.

“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”

He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”

She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”

[cas-couture]

cas couture.

cas couture is an upcoming community-based sim magazine focused on fashion. what sets cas couture apart is that we will not allow permanently paywalled cc to be featured in the magazine and aim to highlight the numerous, talented cc creators in the community :)

we are looking for simblrs who would like their stories/cc/creations/sims/pretty-much-anything ADVERTISED (for free, this is not a cash grab) in the APRIL 2025 ISSUE!

as cas couture is community driven, we need YOUR participation!

( more info under the cut !!! )

we want to put the spotlight back on this community and appreciate active simblrs. we want to encourage blog interaction and actually make the community ~feel like a community!

what will advertising look like?

sponsoring might look different across different spreads, it might be an ad for a movie/ tv series (i.e., this would advertise a sim story), an ad for a product/ designer (i.e., this would advertise a CC creator) and so on.

we're pretty much open to advertising anything! :) if you have any ideas for how you would like your creation advertised, let us know!

what are the requirements to sponsor?

you must be 18+ to apply

this is for fun!!!! pls remember that :) and also pls don’t be zionists or trumpies or homophobes or racist or anything else awful because :( and that’ll be another reason why we can’t have nice things :(

submit this sponsorship form (set aside 10 mins to fill this out, if your sponsorship is accepted, have some pictures/content ready that you would like us to use!)

reblog this post so i know ur for real about wanting to advertise!!

you would reblog and boost and interact with the April issue when it releases on April 11 :) (this would run on an honor system because I'm not a weirdo, but........ like if not enough people do it, it probably won't be worth the effort of making all the ads if no one's going to read the first issue/ interact with it? the point of cas couture IS blog interaction!!!!)

deadline to submit a sponsorship form is April 1. if you are making your own advertisement, it is April 10.

faq

i'm an editor for the magazine already, can I apply to sponsor?

yes, you totally can! we would just request you still fill out the form and once we confirm your sponsorship, we would just ask you to make your own advertisement, as it would probably be the quickest method :)

can I make my own advertisement as a sponsor?

yes, you totally can! once you're accepted as a sponsor, we will send you more information on the canvas size and other regulations <3

how many advertisements are you accepting?

there is no set number, it's more like... how many advertisements we can crank out in time for April 11 :) if you are willing to create your own advertisement and submit it by April 10th, the chances are 99.999% that we would accept :)

why is reblogging this post a requirement in order to apply for sponsorship?

because it'll show that you're truly willing to ruin your impeccable feed with simblr community content! if you're not willing to do it now, you probably won't want to later :( cas couture can only fuel itself on my hopes and dreams for so long until it burns out :( the aim is for blog interaction, making (age-appropriate) friends and having a good time!!!!

thank you for supporting cas couture! you're helping fund the nepo babies'-- i mean, interns'-- matcha addictions-- i mean, education!

asking da community for some support <3

as this is totally a community project, i'm going to tag some community members who really helped the last post reach the masses (I'm sorry, I'm annoying for tagging!!!) and current editors (I'm going off the top of my head, I'm sorry if I miss anyone!!!) on the team for the April issue!!!! if you don't like to be tagged, I'm sorry!!!!! <3333

@householdbinary @jokiyo @simafrassx @olivetelfie @my-kwy @southernfriedsims-blog @ratwoman161 @harvestsims @mmonetsims @kdplayssss @liyahssims @fairytailtow @crazy-hazy-sims @aliengirl @strangegrapefruit @thebramblewood @thefoxburyinstitute @missatan

psst, we're still accepting editors for the April issue!!! learn more about the roles available here!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Speaking of how the heroes are chosen, the temp system might be one of the worst writing choices the writers ever made. I mean I get it, permanent heroes would require the show to have continuity and it makes for yet another parallel with Gabriel, but it just ends up being another one of those instances of the show trying to have its cake and eat it too, like. The new heroes eat up screen time that could've gone to the OG duo, but they also don't get to be heroes in their own right and are essentially Ladybug's Pokemon. It makes both people who liked the duo and people who like team-based shows unhappy for no real benefit.

It's also just a massive security risk. Fu says that it's dangerous for the Miraculous to be out in the open, but it's actually way less risky to put the Miraculous in circulation, because then Hawk Moth has to retrieve them by defeating every hero individually, which is a lot more effort. Keeping them all in one place and distributing them one at a time like this means Hawk Moth only has to figure out who's in charge of the distributing and follow that person right to the Miracle Box. Ferrying the Miraculous for every battle also creates more opportunities to lose them, which is how Queen Bee ended up happening.

Looking back, the problems of just about every season finale past S1 can be traced back to this system. It's almost like the writers are trying to set Marinette up to fail.

Ladybug's Pokemon

I love that phrasing! I've just called them her powerups, but this paints a much clearer picture of what I mean. They're not her autonomous teammates who feel vital to the story. They're her cute little friends who do whatever she says. All she has to do is pick which ones she wants for today's battle.

Fu says that it's dangerous for the Miraculous to be out in the open, but it's actually way less risky to put the Miraculous in circulation, because then Hawk Moth has to retrieve them by defeating every hero individually, which is a lot more effort.

Ferrying the Miraculous for every battle... creates more opportunities to lose them, which is how Queen Bee ended up happening.

These are two of my biggest issue with the temp heroes as a general concept. Fetching them every battle gives Gabriel endless chances to find out the temp heroes identities and/or where the guardian is hiding. I don't know why the show acts like the problem was Ladybug forgetting to detransform in Heart Hunter:

Ladybug: Master Fu, I need your help! Master Fu: (sees Ladybug, gasps) This costume is very cute, miss, but is it really fitting in this place? Ladybug: (gasps) I forgot to transform back. (Looks arounds enters the center of the merry-go-round trying to remain unseen) I haven't been followed Master, I'm sure of it.

Nathalie would have been able to track Ladybug either way. At least this way Marinette's identity stayed a secret!

It would make infinitely more sense for Fu to be the one to hand out the miraculous to the temp heroes for two reasons. The first one was laid out above. Having him or some other support character do it is the best way to keep his identity a secret. You should not have Ladybug leaving battles to do it. That's too easy to track because the villains know where she's going to be when she goes running off for help.

The other reason is because it's asinine to have Ladybug run off every time they face a major threat. Think about that logic for a second.

Ladybug: This akuma is too hard for us to fight as a duo! Chat Noir, you stay here and fight this super hard akuma alone while I go get reinforcements. I'll be back in half an hour or so. Chat Noir: Wait, what? How am I supposed to- Ladybug: Have fun! Don't die! Bye!

How did that never backfire on them? I get temp heroes being temp for a few fights, but they should have all been given their miraculous full time ages ago.

[mariasont]

Murphy's Law - A.H

summary: you have spent your whole life thinking love was something that could be lost. Aaron has spent his whole life proving that the things worth fighting for don't go anywhere.

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: some angsty angst, self sabatoge, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, self worth issues, hotch knows you better than you know yourself, hurt/comfort, happy ending ish

wc: 1.7k

You were staring at the liquid swirl in your glass, watching the way the light bent through it, like if you stared long enough, you could disappear into it, dissolve into it completely. It was sweating against your palm, ice melting, thinning, becoming something less than it was before. 

You were exhausted, an exhaustion that clung your very bones and soul and flesh, moving into places you were certain sleep couldn't reach nor fix.

The case had been brutal and unfortunately for everyone involved, it was the type of case that didn't end just because the paperwork was filed. And you'd done what you always did when it got to be too much, you'd picked a fight with the only person who never fought back.

It was practically muscle memory by now, the way you pushed, the way you tested him, the way you all but begged for him to get tired of you. You took a sip and let yourself wonder if this was the time he finally did.

The whiskey tasted awful. You scrunched your nose at the aftertaste, the way it coated your tongue with something sharp and unforgiving. But you swallowed it anyway. It was his drink, and maybe you deserved the bitterness. Maybe you deserved the way it burned on the way down, the way it sunk heavy in your stomach.

If he was tired of you, if this was the night you finally ruined it, then at least you could feel what he felt, at least you could know what it was like to choke down something that wasn't meant for you.

You could never figure out why he was with you, could never make sense of it, could never understand what he saw when he looked at you. Because all you could see were the cracks, the flaws, the thousands of ways you weren't enough. And Aaron, well, he was steady. He was level-headed, patient, impossibly good, and you were a mess of emotions. You were impulse and self-destruction, always bracing for impact.

You were temporary. And Aaron was the kind of man who deserved something permanent.

You felt him before you saw him. Of course he was here. Of course he came looking for you. You swallowed another sip of the whiskey and let the burn dissipate through your chest before he even had the chance to speak.

"You didn't want to go home."

It wasn't angry or accusatory. That made it worse. You didn't turn to face him, instead you rolled the glass between shaky fingers and let out a bitter laugh.

"What, am I in trouble?"

The second the words left your mouth, you hated them. Hated yourself. You weren't trying to pick another fight, weren't trying to make things worse. But it was like your body was moving before you mind could stop it, like some sick part of yourself wanted to see how much more you could destroy before the night was over.

Hotch sighed, pulled out the stool beside you and sat without a word. He didn't push, didn't ask, didn't even look at you right away. Instead, he reached across the bar, tapping his fingers twice against the counter.

"Water."

The bartender nodded, setting down a glass in front of him. He slid it toward you without a second thought, like this was something they'd done a thousand times before.

Which you had.

But before, you had been soft for each other. Before, the drinks had been sweet, your laughter even sweeter, your hands weaving in his tie as you pulled him down for a slow, unhurried kiss. Before, he'd touched your waist, guiding you toward him before giving you a water and whispering something against your temple like, you're trouble. And you'd grin, because you knew he didn't mean it, not really, not when he was the one who always indulged you, who always let you be trouble, who always looked at you like you were something precious.

Now, the gesture was the same, but everything around it had changed. Now, it wasn't about taking care of you at the end of a good night. It was the same notion, stripped of everything that used to make it feel like love.

"Thanks," you murmured.

You took the glass, but you didn't lift it, didn't take a sip, just dragged a fingertip through the moisture, watching as it smeared beneath your touch.

And then you made the mistake of looking at him.

He looked wrecked. And not just tired, but more than that. Worn down in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with you. You were the same in that way. His jaw was tight, and his eyes lingered on you like he was searching for something, something he wasn't sure he'd find. He looked worried, and worse, so much worse, he looked hurt.

And that made everything burn. It made your vision blur at the edges.

You looked back down at your drink before you could embarrass yourself further, before the sting behind your eyes could turn into something real.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "You look like you're waiting for me to give up."

"Do I?"

It was weak and too quick. Flimsy and transparent. A question with a question. A classic misdirection, the kind of thing you had both watched suspects do a thousand times when they were caught, when the truth was too ugly to face head-on.

"When people are afraid of loss, they do one of two things," Aaron said and you could feel his eyes on you. "They cling to what they have, or they push it away before it can leave on its own." You looked at him. "You've already decided this won't last, so you're doing everything in your power to make that true. But the problem is—," he leaned in slightly and you could see the freckle under his eye clearly now, "you're treating your fear like a fact."

Your gaze flickered over his face, mapping out every detail like a blueprint. The tiny scar on his chin that you'd never asked him about, the exact shade of his eyes, the way his nose tilted just slightly at the bridge.

You wanted to memorize it all, because someday, this would be all you have left.

When he was gone, because he would leave, it was only a matter of when, you didn't want to rely on pictures. You wanted to close your eyes and see him, clear as he was now. Every part of him. Even the parts he didn't realize you noticed.

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Stop being so nice to me!"

The words came out choked, tears stinging at your eyes before you could blink them away. You dug your nails into your palm, trying to get something under your control, but it was slipping through your fingers like everything else.

"You're going to get tired of me. You're going to wake up one day and realize I'm not worth it and — and you should. You should yell at me, you should tell me I'm too much, you should —," The tears spilled over now and you hated how blurry he looked. "Fight back, Aaron. Please just — just stop pretending like I deserve this, like I deserve you."

Hotch inhaled sharply, then stood, reaching for his wallet. He placed the bill on the counter — too much, but he wasn't about to wait for change — before finally turning back to you.

"Let's get some air."

You hiccupped, the sound breaking awkwardly in your throat, and you blinked hard. Everything felt like too much, your muscles too tight, your face too hot, the tears still falling despite your best efforts. You rubbed at your face with back of your hand, nodding, because you didn't trust yourself to speak.

You stood and glanced around for your coat and before you could even realize you didn't bring one, Aaron was already moving.

"Arms in," he said, slipping his jacket around you, his fingers barely skimming your shoulders.

He didn't give you a moment to process it. He just started guiding you to the door, like he already knew you wouldn't stop him.

The night air didn't bite the way you expected. It should have shocked you awake, made you shiver, but it didn't. You barely felt it.

Your body felt off, warmth thrummed through your limbs in way that you feel unsteady. You swayed slightly, and Aaron's hand came to hover near your waist, not quite touching, but waiting. Just in case.

He was frowning at you.

So, instinctively, you frowned back.

"You're acting like I don't know what I signed up for." You opened your mouth to argue but Aaron stepped closer before you could even form the words. "I know what I signed up for because I know you."

His eyes didn't leave yours.

"I know you overthink every single text before you send it. I know that when you're anxious you chew on the inside of your cheek until it's raw. I know you order the same three things at a restaurant because too many choices stress you out, and I know you hate when the cabinets in the kitchen are left open, even by an inch."

He took another step.

"I know you cry at commercials but try to hide it. I know that when you're upset, you don't want comfort, but you need it. I know that you think needing people makes you weak. But I also know you are smart and kind and stubborn as hell. I know that I love you in a way that is reckless and absolute. And I know—," he exhaled, standing so close his breath was mingling with yours. "that you are worth every single argument it's going to take to convince you of that."

It was too much. The way he knew you. The way he saw you. The way he spoke like loving you was a fact, an inevitability, something that could not be argued or undone.

A sharp breath shuttered from your lips, your whole body tightening like you could hold it all in.

But you couldn't. Because your chest ached. Your hands ached. Your heart ached. Your whole body felt like it belonged to him in a way you didn't know how to put into words.

So you did the only thing you could do. You closed the miniscule distance between you, your fingers grasping onto the front of his coat, pulling, holding, needing.

Because you didn't know how to say I love you so much it physically hurts me.

But maybe, if you pressed close enough, he would feel it.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 10

A few hours later.

Overall the mission was successful. They put a stop to Luthor's plot. Green Lantern had collected the radioactive materials and flew them over to the nearest black hole for safe disposal. And the JL handed Luthor to FBI custody. There was one hiccup however, Luthor had found another piece of Kryptonite which he has used against Superman and captured him. When the rest of the league reached Clark he was hanging over a pit of nuclear waste.

The JL move didn't move knowing that with the affects of the Kryptonite Superman could easily die. But Danny quickly pounced on Luthor, stole the Kryptonite from his hands, proceeded to unhinge his jaw, revealing an unhuman number of green-tinted razer-sharp teeth and proceeded to eat the Kryptonite. As Luthor looked on in pure horror he was punched unconscious by a now repowered Clark.

Danny: Aww, I wanted to ask him if he had more crystalized ectoplasm.

Clark (shocked at what just happened): Crystalized ectoplasm? Is that what you call Kryptonite?

Danny: I guess? It's so rare but so delicious. Danny looked around the rest of the JL who looked at him like he was crazy, except Batman who just looked tired, and Constantine who was hiding behind Diana. What?

Bruce: Kid, Kryptonite or as you call it crystalized ectoplasm is highly toxic to Kryptonians like Superman. It's been an issue for years, the only way we knew to permanently destroy Kryptonite was by throwing it into a black hole, so seeing you just eat a piece of it is a little shocking.

Danny: Oh. Danny looked at Clark. I see the issue. Danny reached towards Clark and phased his hand into his chest and snapped his fingers. Clark shivered and backed away. There you go!

Clark: What did you do?

Danny: I removed your weakness to Kryptonite!

The JL stared blankly at Danny.

Clark: Thank you... I have other relatives that also share that weakness, can you remove it from them as well?

Danny: Sure thing, just tell me where and when.

Clark: I will.

Bruce (internally): Well... there goes my contingency plan for Clark... and the whole Kent family.

(Master Post)

Thank you to @confused-they for giving me the idea of Kryptonite being ghost candy in the comments of part 9

[theminecraftbee]

Pearl stops and stares once she gets to the front of the line at the Hermitopia Permit Office. She’s here to renew her ID, since she’s required to have a valid driver’s license for her mail carrier job she’s only recently moved here. Normal stuff, really. If it weren’t for the secret of why she’d actually moved to town, she’d have probably taken the license photo, filled out the paperwork, and left.

She is not here for a mail carrier job, and she can see things no one else in line can.

“I know, I know, I have a very beautiful face,” says the demon at the counter in the flattest affect Pearl has heard in her life. “Look, lady, there’s a line and I want to be on break, so if you’re going to sexually harass me or something can you hurry up and speedrun through doing it?“

She also doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“What?” she says.

“I mean, you’re staring at me awfully closely,” the demon says. “What am I supposed to assume? Surely you know that’s rude.”

“I’m not into men,��� Pearl instantly lies for absolutely no reason.

“Okay? I don’t need to know that for your driver’s license?” the demon says.

“Right. Um,” Pearl says. She’s a little reluctant to hand the plastic sandwich bag she’d put her proof of address in over to a demon. If she’d just been a mail carrier and couldn’t See, it would be one thing, but she simply hadn’t been expected to come across the consequences of Hermitopia’s rumored hellmouth so immediately.

Or so…

The demon sighs again with an impressive amount of passive-aggression.

Pearl slides the documents to him. She watches as the demon gives everything several once-overs. He’s neither seemed to have noticed that she’s a psychic or that she’s a hunter. If anything, he seems to be trying his level best to avoid doing anything other than playing with several small desk nicknacks he has. One appears to be a magic eight ball shaped like a robot. Another appears to be a miniature game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Yet another appears to be some kind of controller for the painfully inoffensive music the permit office plays.

Frankly, they’re all almost as distracting as the eyes that cover every inch of the demon’s body that isn’t wearing the permit office uniform. The eyes glow, faint and unsettling. They move as though on a higher framerate than the universe, giving a strange, out-of-sync effect with the way the demon otherwise moves. They make Pearl’s heart pound.

Hermitopia Hellmouth. It’s real. It’s real.

The demon gives her paperwork back. “You’ll be mailed a new license at some point. Here’s the temp. Have a day or whatever.”

“Thanks, er…” She squints at his name tag. It’s in deliberately small font. “Grian?”

Grian waves her off. “If my boss gets mad I’ll tell him it’s your fault I’m not meeting KPIs. Go away.”

“Your boss must be tough,” Pearl says.

There is a long, eerie silence.

“Cub would have Stared back. I’m not paid to bother. Learn to shield better. Next.”

Pearl stands still for a beat too long before stepping out of line, clutching her temporary license in hand. The worst part is that she has to wait for the permanent one, and they’ll only mail it to the physical address she gave them. That’s the thing about government-issued IDs; they care where you physically are.

She breathes. The world’s been overwhelming since she’s learned to See, but her new organization has helped a lot. Now, she has an opportunity to help back, here in Hermitopia.

Pearl owes nothing less than her best, presuming the demons don’t come to the address they apparently have in the night, now that they know she’s here, and she knows they are. She shudders, deeply unsettled. She knows she will not sleep tonight.

(After all, for a moment—a single, horrifying, terrible moment—those hundreds of demonic eyes had seemed kind.)

[hamsterbellbelle]

Simple Columbarium Niche

DOWNLOAD - end of post

⬇️multi-pics below⚠️⬇️

⬆️2 types of niches: No portrait - Base Game || With portrait - Life & Death pack needed. Each type comes with two style: stone and marble. The marble ones have a more reflective texture.

⬆️This is how the portrait will look like for the Life & Death ones

🐹the niches are all in simlish because (a) I don't know what names to put, (b) I don't want to accidentally naming anyone... 🐹The names are mostly (a) variations of the word "Hamster", (b) Hajsdhjsaiwhd << random typos, (c) variations of the names of the characters from Game of Thrones... 🐹The Epitaph (longer texts) on the niches are phrases from the song "Oh Danny Boy" and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone", or copies of the generated Epitaph from the game

⬆️you can have your sims take their own photo to be the portrait

⬆️there are blank ones available, also PSD files will be provided for inputting your own texts. Instruction and details further down this post.

HOW THIS WORKS:

⬆️both Base Game and L&D niches will start like this when clicked on. The "Assigned to" option will only appear if (1) someone a sim knows has passed away AND (2) a ghost sim cannot assign themselves

⬆️if a sim or ghost sim doesn't know anyone who has passed, only this option will appear

⬆️the "Assigned To" option will lead to this window where you may assign the niche to anyone that your sims has met and is deceased. The deceased sim could be a playable or non-playable ghost.

⬆️the default epitaph is "R.I.P" for both Base Game and L&D niches.

⬆️before assigning any epitaph, these are the available options for both Base Game and L&D niches.

⬆️Engrave epitaph ⚠️any sim can manually engrave epitaph to any assigned niche.

⬆️new epitaph will be shown.

⬆️new options will also appear. NOTE: for the base game - no portrait niches: the red interactions will not appear. But if you have the Life & Death pack and downloaded the base game niches, the red interactions will appear.

⬆️if you leave the epitaph blank then select "Read Epitaph", the epitaph will automatically becomes the object's description

⚠️A FEW IMPORTANT NOTES:

once a niche is assigned to a sim, it cannot be un-assign. It can only be reassigned to another sim.

if a sim is deleted permanently through cheat, AND the niche that was originally assigned to them has no epitaph, then the default "R.I.P." epitaph will disappear . i.e. You cannot "Engrave Epitaph" to a deleted sim's niche, but you may reassign the niche to someone else.

on a Cemetery community lot, sims will autonomously do any of the funeral interactions with the niches and light candles. (I didn't add "light candles" to the interaction because I don't want candles to be lying around...)

⚠️OTHER KNOWN ISSUES

for the base game - no portrait ones, sometimes a deceased sim cannot be assigned to the niche due to (a) they are currently in a situational event (b) has crossed over (c) reborn

on one occasion during early stage, a niche just gradually fade out and disappeared...I cannot recreate the situation nor did it ever happened again...

⬇️DOWNLOAD⬇️:

- polycount: basegame - 16 || Life & Death - 24~36 - Base Game - No Portrait || Life and Death packed needed - With Portrait - 20 swatches

⚠️Each file have two versions: v.(1) Niches will show when wall are down i.e. hovering midair v.(2) Niches will not show when walls are down i.e. you will have to toggle walls up to access niches interaction

⚠️IMPORTANT: ONLY DOWNLOAD ONE VERSION EACH⚠️

i.e. you can have both no_portrait and with_portrait, but can only have either "show" or "not_show" each

Base Game = No Portrait [Ver.(1) - will show ] || [Ver.(2) - not show] Life & Death = With Portrait [Ver.(1) - will show ] || [Ver.(2) - not show]

[PSD files for custom niche text] ||

alt. DOWNLOAD 2

PSD FILE INSTRUCTION

🐹You will need:

any app that can edit PSD files >> recommended app: GIMP or photopea.com

Sims 4 Studio ("Star" for Windows", "Aurora" for Macs)

⬆️input your text, and save images as PNG files, size 1024x1024px or 512x512px

⬆️in Sims 4 Studio, go to the "Studio" tab and select "Add Swatch"

⬆️after selecting the newly added swatch, still under "Studio" tab, on the right select Texture > Diffuse and then import the new texture with your own text

🐹Done ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your FS' Secret Kinks

❦ “She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air." - Raymon Chandler, The Big Sleep

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✦ Pile One ✦

Poor lil pooh pooh. This person struggles to “fill their cups up” so they get off on denying themselves pleasure. They secretly like the feeling of hitting whatever rock bottom looks like to them. Honestly, they want to be saved. They are wallowing at the bottom of a well, waiting for their savior to swoop in and throw them a rope. 

In a more literal sense, they want a person to be their reason to live. Their reason to feel daylight on their skin again. Everyone and everything around them is unsatisfying and “fake”. They want something real to coax them out of their hell and entice them with all the thrilling things life has to offer. 

However, they also like this dark and brooding side of themselves. They have a bit of a corruption kink.

They fantasize about a virginal angel coming down to save them, but they end up convincing the angel to sink down to their level. 

They like exciting, spontaneous people who are willing to jump up and run out the door to do something fun at any moment, but think innocent fun. Like going to the movies to theater hop, and getting away without paying. Or, running around the Target parking lot in shopping carts and trying not to bang into cars. Maybe even steal a few street signs. 

Innocent childhood fun that you’d see in early 90s movies. But add a sadistic twist to it that only they are aware of. 

You would be the innocent virgin (doesn’t have to be true, it's their fantasy) who is unknowingly leading this beast (also not true, they are just extremely self-deprecating) to your pretty little happy places which they plan to desecrate.

They want to fuck you in your family home and make a mess of your childhood bed, making you scream so loud that you’re family starts to look at you differently. They want to take you to your favorite movie spots where you usually chill and hangout with your friends and turn it into a place where all you can think about is them covering your mouth in the back of the theater while you’re squirming in their lap, trying to escape out of their grip as they edge you to the new Marvel release. 

They have a kink for turning all of your innocent, fun moments into their very own filthy fantasies.

Ps. Fisting came out of the blue so lube up!

Come To Me, My Senseless Angel

✦ Pile Two ✦

I don’t believe this is a future spouse, to be honest. This might be a situationship you need to move past. They seem emotionally immature, or at least this is a side of them that exclusively comes out when they’re aroused. 

They can be quite abrasive and feel like they are constantly under attack so they’re incredibly defensive. They have a history of lashing out at their loved ones when they feel overwhelmed and get so blinded by their emotions that they disregard their affection for their partners and say really unforgettable, harmful words which permanently alters the connection for the worse. 

They carry guilt from these actions and are in a constant state of regret. In this state, their sense of pleasure is a little twisted. They get turned on by causing a genuine issue in the relationship. They like the idea of pushing you to your limit where you’re this 🤏  close to your breaking point and at your absolute lowest. It’s when you reach your rock bottom and realize the need to move away from this person and you scream out, “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.”

They like to grovel. You know that cycle where somebody fucks up and then they’re in the dog house buying flowers and being extra fluffy just to get in the victim’s good graces so they can do the same thing over again. So far, pile one and two’s respective partners like to feel like shit. They secretly like the moment where they completely fuck up a relationship and have to beg on their hands and knees to get their person back orrrrrr they get off on emotionally tearing someone down to the point where they get on their knees to bed for this person’s attention. 

Either way, there's a lot of fucked psychological issues underneath this fantasy that I’m not unpacking here because it differs from person to person. 

In its best light, this person glorifies struggle love. At its worst, this person is purposefully emotionally abusive with the intent to tear their partner down for their own sexual gratification. 

They’re conscious enough to know their actions are toxic but don’t have the emotional maturity to work past their actions. They’re at the phase where they’re just aware and are like “I know I’m shitty but that’s just who I am. If they stick with me and the sex is good, it’s meant to be.”

I’m honestly getting twitter relationship hypotheticals with this one. Iykyk.

They’re also an edgelord. Less in an internet cockroach way and more in a witty- can be funny if done well- way, but they get pleasure from shocking people nonetheless. This energy can be directed toward you to piss you off and annoy you with the intent of getting in your pants later. 

I’ve been guided to switch the conversation briefly: If this resonates and is someone you are dealing with. It is time to move on. This person gets gratification from hurting you and will not get past that high of tearing down a relationship and then having a messy recovery. They have their own issues to work through and cannot see how they are hurting you. There is no future with this person, they came into your life to teach you a lesson about your self-value. That cycle has run its course and it's time to move on.  

To be honest, I’m not a fan of this person and don’t even want to list the explicit kinks that came out but I will just in case this message is for you but you’re not sure.

Random messages: Hot tub/pool sex, hair pulling, break down crying, interracial, milk, broken condom, “i fucking hate you”, “whore”, mirror, drunk sex, complaining, smack a bitch, twitter

P.S. You’re too sexy for the bullshit! There is bigger and greater out there, you just need to believe that for yourself!

This person will not get a mood board out of me.

✦ Pile Three ✦

Okay, so this person has some deep religious guilt. This is a male presenting person. I am being clear with their sex because it plays a role in this reading. They have some majorly repressed feminine energy. They may even be attracted to the same sex. 

This is a fs reading, so they are likely bi, pansexual, or trans. Either way, their family is close-minded and is not supportive of them. They were forced to leave home so they could finally live their truth. They have lived their entire life fitting somebody else’s narrative. They were the hypermasculine bro type to “cover up” their femininity. 

So, they have a kink for hyperfeminity. It’s almost to the point where they obsess over the caricature of girlhood. I see lots of pink, high heels, full-glam, all-day mall shopping, pinup curls, flashy jewelry, sleepovers, day spas, that scene in Scott Pilgrim where that girl is like “SHE’S PROBABLY LIKE 25!”, and everything else that gets associated with “girlhood” nowadays. 

They fantasize about you in your receptive energy, being waited on and cared for hand and foot. They like to observe the way you move. Everything about you and your feminine aura is incredibly alluring to them. The way with each breath your breasts fall, your hips swaying with each step, the cute way you match your accessories with your outfits. They notice everything about you. 

You know those paintings of wealthy women lying on their sides and being fed grapes? That. They’re not in the serving role, they're the painter. Their kink is capturing you in those everyday moments where the world seems to be waiting on you like you’re the collective’s queen.

They see femininity in a higher light than the general population. They see women as automatically deserving of this type of care, they also want this care. 

They have a secret hard-on for pregnant women and women with swollen breasts. They have a lactation kink. They fantasize about cumming in you over and over again. They see you as a Goddess, so they want to see you masturbate at church on an altar, like you're waiting to be worshipped. 

A lot of their fantasies, they’re not even included in. It’s just you looking God-like and being worshipped by the world around you. This person may hate when you wear clothes. They act like the fabric is committing a sin by covering your body. They just want to capture your essence. Like an admirer and a student.

P.S. Dick game goes CRAZY. They watch a lot of women-focused porn to study what gets a woman off. Like Maddie in Euphoria, he is there to study.

Pretty In Pink

✦ Pile Four ✦

WE GOT A PLEASURE DOM IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL STAY CALM. As my mama would say, they love your dirty drawls!

You could do no wrong in this person’s eyes. They’re the golden retriever type. Head empty, leading with heart and IN LOVE>>>>>

You are the pot of gold and the end of the rainbow they’re chasing. They appreciate a good fling but they’ve never felt this before. The emotions you stir in them are unprecedented, this is puppy, sandbox love that most people lose touch with after life jades them.

This is raw love at its most unprocessed. I taste honey. 

They have a kink for the power you have over them. It’s like you have a carrot on a stick and they’re the pig being led to a love den they can’t escape. And they’ll happily be the squealing pig in every lifetime they get with you. This is a soul yearning. 

You will know this person because they will proactively pursue you and they will have no doubts in their mind about it. They are really attracted to your physical form, your curves. Even if you’re on the slimmer side, they like your structure and the dips in your spine. They’ll stare at you when you’re talking and zone out, thinking about how attractive they find you. 

They’re not used to having to try to get someone to sleep with them. They have to put effort towards you and they like that. This person is downright thirsty and craves intimacy with you.

Their fantasies aren’t even dirty, they’re passionate. They want to put you in a mating press, with your knees pressed all the way up beside your ears. They want to penetrate (could be with a toy) deeply and touch that gooey part of you that makes you see stars. 

They want to see an imprint of them in your lower belly. Any position where you’re in their arms is a go for them because they like having you. They want every moment to be just you and them away from the world. So very sweet and intimate. They also love marking you, expect lots of hickeys.

Ignore them from time to time too (healthily, these conditions should be discussed beforehand)! They see you as the ultimate prize, so if you delay their satisfaction, they’ll feel like they’re chasing again, which gets them off. They like to feel like they’re convincing you to sleep with them. You both are consenting, but they like the idea of you having better things to do and they’re trying to convince you to stay and party with them. 

They are very action-oriented and love movement. Anything that involves an adventure together, they are down for. 

PS. Surprise them with a bubble bath together, they’ll love that. And tease them while pulling their hair a bit!

Ode To My Darling Sun