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

[burningcheese-merchant]

God... I never thought I would be thinking about Burningcheese Vampire AU. I even remembered our fella Vampire Cookie exists and that he is unaffected by the sun and can turn into a bat. That makes me wonder, can Golden Cheese turn into a complete bird in the AU? Just to have the buff man caging her with just his hands. What about if Burning Spice is the vampire? He would go bat, another flying animal or just another animal? Or are we just sticking with bats?

I hate being caught with my pants down like this, so to speak, but I actually haven't thought about it 😅 The most I've delved into their powers is me wanting to deviate from vampire norm and have these particular vampires empowered by the sun and weakened by the moon. Not too much beyond that haha

But since I don't want to leave you hanging, and I do like exploring weird little AUs like this one...

It would be logical (and funny) if Golden Cheese did turn into a bird, yeah lol. But I think it might make more sense if she was... different? From the other ones. Bigger, more unique plumage (maybe colored or styled in a way that resembles her attire, maybe even a triangular pattern on her forehead), sharper beak and talons. But... still fitting within Burning Spice's arms without issue, of course. Easy enough for him to catch and play with, and squeeze when she's misbehaving...

For Burning Spice, I actually didn't want him to become a traditional animal necessarily. I confess that his appetite and behavior are less like a vampire's and more like a rakshasa's (demonic entity from Indian mythology, they are malevolent and extremely dangerous and many are man-eaters). He's "normal", he looks the same; but slowly, over time, the more he indulges his cannibalistic urges, the more monstrous he appears. He was cursed by a dying shaman as retribution for BS destroying his village, so I thought of having the curse become more "permanent" with time and refusal to change (ironic lol)

Additional point to above, Spice starts looking and acting more like a rakshasa the hungrier he gets. Deny him sustenance long enough and he starts losing control of himself. His body and mind start to change; he adopts more devil-like features, he becomes less rational/coherent, he gains physical strength but loses focus and coordination. He is EXTREMELY difficult to deal with if and when he deteriorates far enough, and Golden Cheese does absolutely everything in her power to prevent it (while also still trying to hide him. She keeps him with her so she can monitor him and mitigate any threat he poses to others. No one is supposed to know)

[johanna-swann]

So I've been complaining for a while that 911 has nothing exciting going on anymore, but there is actually one thing that I am super curious to watch play out. Not even just in universe, I'm curious to see how the show handles this:

How are they going to resolve the Christopher problem?

If the rumors are correct the actor moved away and he is mostly leaving the show. We've had a situation similar to this before with Harry and his actor, but despite the similarities there are also differences that will be difficult if not impossible to navigate.

Harry left to live with his dad. Everyone in the Grant family was on board with this because they all had a good relationship to each other and Harry had already stayed with Michael during covid. It made sense that Harry would want to stay with his dad and stepdad.

Christopher left LA not because he wanted to stay with his grandparents so badly, but because he didn't want to stay with his dad. He didn't leave because he loves his grandparents that much, he left because he was angry with his dad. Eddie was not okay with this decision, but let Chris go anyway because he felt it was the right thing to do. Ramon and Helena don't officially have custody of Christopher or any other form of guardianship agreement (afaik), so even legally this could get complicated.

Harry left the show in a way that was satisfying storywise. I was sad to see him go, but David had this huge opportunity and of course Michael went with him. Harry going as well was okay because it was a happy parting of the ways even if I miss all three of them.

Christopher left in a way that needs a resolution. There is still conflict here and the only way to end this in a satisfying way is to reunite Eddie and Chris. Ideally not 3 seasons from now, but asap. It has already been 8(?) months.

(This entire plot is madness btw. Like. Even when you have a bad argument you don't just let your child move 800 miles away from you permanently. Especially when the grandparents in question have a history of trying to get guardianship. After the summer break at the latest Eddie should've put his foot down about this. But I digress and they probably had to do it like this because Chris' actor wasn't available.)

My point is: There are 2 ways this can go.

1, Eddie and Christopher reunite in El Paso. Eddie leaves LA, Ryan Guzman leaves the show, a notoriously angry fanbase will send death threats to the showrunner and producers like they never have before. You know, fun stuff.

("Not all Buddie fans", I know I know, but there is a significant portion of shippers in this fandom who have become very fond of online harrassment and bullying, icluding death threats and suicide baiting. Need I remind you that only recently the 911-bts account was bullied offline? They were completely neutral on the ship question and only posted about official info, they really didn't do anything wrong and yet, here we are.)

2, Eddie and Christopher reunite in LA. Chris comes back, they talk things out, work on their relationship. Sounds better, right? Yeah, tiny problem though. How?

How, if Chris' actor isn't available? Do they just have Eddie talk about Chris without ever showing him again? What about Chris and Buck's relationship? They throw that out the window too? I imagine recasting is quite difficult, how many child actors with CP who fit the bill can there be in LA?

Besides, don't get mad at me, but Christopher kinda makes up 80% of Eddie's personality. He's the single dad, that's his constant. What else does he have? The panic attacks, the military trauma, the anger issues - all of those things are stuff the show brought up once for rather short arcs and then never again. If you look for things that are always true about Eddie there's two of them: He's a single father and he's still hung up on Shannon.

They can't drag Shannon's corpse around forever (though they do try). Take Christopher out of the equation too and forget about Chris himself, what is this show going to do with Eddie? He has never shown any ambition to further his career in any way. He doesn't seem to have close ties to any of his relatives outside of Pepa. Like. Dude has two sisters and he never even mentions them. Carla apparently also left the show. He doesn't really have other friends outside the 118 (he hasn't talked to Linda since season 5 and Tommy left the show too). And even within the 118, who is he particularly close to other than Buck?

They could of course actually go for Buddie, but is that a good idea right now? Eddie still hasn't worked out his Shannon complex, Buck is not over Tommy yet and it doesn't solve the Christopher problem.

So yeah. Very curious about how they'll solve this pickle. I'd love to hear some other people's thoughts about this.

[starry-bi-sky]

finally giving fem danyal her own au and fulfilling my 'danny is an animal whisperer' agenda at the same time: mother of monsters danyal 2.0

i say "2.0" because TECHNICALLY 'mother of monsters danyal' is an au I made back in June for Dark fem!Danyal (who I promptly named Layal). However, I haven't posted much for her yet, and I like the "mother of monsters" premise too much to leave it only to Layal. Plus Danyal in that au was going to become the mother of monsters anyway, just with significantly less world domination and mass extinction.

'Animal whisperer' Danny has been something I've been thinking about since my latest DP 'wolfpack au' post and it's! So fun to think about, and who no better to assign the idea to than Danyal Al Ghul? Who comes from a family infamously known for their love of animals and nature?

Fem Danyal is just purely self-indulgent. *gestures wildly at her* i just lomvb,,, her,,,, I've only really mentioned her in context of the 'Things in Threes' au/my first Danyal al Ghul au with the facial scar, but she's!!! I love her. She deserves her own au <33

So kill three birds with one stone! Make a post about it.

Anyways, Danny has a large lair. Similar to cult leader danyal, her lair is a giant mountain region resembling nanda parbat with a big temple/palace-like area built into the mountain. It's large, it's overflowing with natural flora, with its own mini-floating islands hovering over some areas, and it's also completely empty.

Danny takes one look at her lair upon first meeting, -- noting that it looked relatively smaller from the outside -- and promptly, with the elegance of an Al Ghul, goes "What the hell??" Because yes, while she does enjoy her own solitude and privacy, this is a bit ridiculous.

For heaven's sake, there's even a massive lake in there! What's she going to do with all this space? Can she make it any smaller? Why is it so big in the first place? This looks borderline like one of the mega-islands!

She finds out later that apparently, the amount of ectoplasm a ghost has can have an effect on the size of their lair. And since she has such a large core, her lair reflects that. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, it's bigger on the inside so it doesn't take up "too much space" on the outside. Don't worry about it too much.

Danyal isn't totally opposed to having such a large lair, she's just... a bit baffled by it. It feels like so much wasted space is all. All this flora and no fauna to enjoy it with. It's practically eerie.

She decorates her temple-palace area, transforming rooms to match her needs as she sees fit. In the center of the inner gardens is a massive tree that she likes to climb, with twisting, winding branches. Sam and Tucker have honorary rooms, even if they can't safely leave the specter speeder for long periods of time, even with proper safety equipment. So does Jazz. Ali (Dani) has one too, but he can actually use that one, and Danny brought him to her lair so he could decorate it himself.

She has a personal garden, but for the most part she lets the flora exist as it is. Too much space to cultivate it en masse anyways.

Skip to a few weeks later, on her next visit to Clockwork. She developed a habit of going to see him semi-regularly just because. She enjoys his wisdom, and he has a lot of stories to tell, and when he's not being the cryptic and esoteric timekeeper, he's a bit goofy.

(pushing my dadwork agenda here,,, i think Danny deserves to go 'hey, Lord Clockwork, do you want me to buy you something' while she's at walmart, only to receive a singular glowing sticky note that says 'cucumber gatorade'.)

(She insists on referring to him with his proper titles even for the most mundane of things because it's proper, but Clockwork sees a future where she eventually calls him "Cee" and by all things in existence is he determined to get there. Anyways,,,)

On her next visit to Clockwork, just as she is about to leave, Clockwork stops her and goes; "Ah, I have something for you. Hold out your hands."

Danny does as such, and Clockwork doesn't give out things often, so her curiosity has spiked to the highest levels. He turns away from her for a moment, using his staff to summon whatever it is he needs, and when he turns around.

He drops a fish into her hands. Granted, a fish in a small glass tank. But a fish nonetheless. A small one, roughly about the size of her finger, with a blue-black, eel-shaped body and four sets of glowing eyes. She can see thin, almost translucent, but spiny fins down its back and the start of bioluminescent markings. It's swimming around in circles in its small container.

"Lord Clockwork." Danyal says all too calmly.

"Yes, Danyal?"

"What is this?"

"That is an adolescent leviathan, Danyal." She’s transfixed onto the tank, but she doesn’t need to see Clockwork’s face to hear the smile he’s stifling.

The myriad of emotions that runs through her all at once threatens to overwhelm her, and she can’t tell if the feelings are negative or positive. So she carefully closes her eyes to breathe in through her nose.

“Clockwork.”

“Ah, I see you’ve dropped formalities.”

She ignores that.

“Why have you given me an adolescent leviathan?”

She's expecting the trickster to look amused when she opens her eyes. Instead, he just looks endeared. "I know you're fond of animals," he says, "and you always look amazed when you come across an animal of the realms. So I thought you might enjoy taking care of the young beast, it's mother is dead so it has no one to care for it."

Oh.

"But, if you don't like it," Clockwork's hands reach out for the tank, "I can simply take it back--"

Danyal shifts the tank out from his reach and hugs it possessively. "I never said that. How do I care for it?"

And so clockwork gives her a list, and when Danyal returns to her lair, she sets up a large tank in her room for the leviathan to swim in -- it's much too small for the lake right now, she thinks. She'll feel better if it's somewhere she can find it. She names him Suhā.

Suhā grows quickly, and by the end of the mortal month she transforms one of the rooms into a large pond for him to swim around in. He's a very loyal beast, recognizing her as it's mother of some kind. Danyal takes great care ensuring that her beastie gets quality care, and Suhā swims to the surface to see her when he senses her in the room.

It spirals from there. Somehow, Pandora catches wind that Clockwork gave her a leviathan, and so the next time Danyal visits the Greater Athens, she gives her a baby chimera. It's eyes are still sealed shut, Danyal can't bring herself to say no. She names the little beastie Firas.

Frostbite hears about it too, and not to be outdone, gives her an animal she's never even heard of. Infinite-realms born, apparently. A fox-like creature with two small horns like an impala, four eyes, and tall legs. The name isn't something she's quite sure how to write down, and she's positive that her friends won't be able to comprehend it. She names her Eira.

Getting the three of them used to each other was... interesting. Suhā tried to eat Firas when Danyal first introduced the two, and they've hated each other ever since. Firas and Eira are seemingly getting along. Her island already feels full enough with the three of them on it.

Of course, that's not the end of it. With her luck, she begins stumbling across other monsters. Realms-borne or otherwise. An injured hydra in the Grecian islands that, through lots of trial and error, Danyal is able to rehabilitate and heal. It routinely comes to visit her afterwards.

A griffin with a broken wing that she moves permanently to the island that likes to keep to itself, but tends to come down when she's near. It gets along best with Firas.

A panther-like monster from the Shades Woods that had six legs and three tails, with ends that reminded her of a venus flytrap. It stuck around the heavy foliage and she can only make out where it was when she saw its golden eyes reflect.

She befriends a young indrik with its leg injured, and much like the hydra it follows her back to her island, and stays there in the mountains. It comes out when she's alone, much like her other beasts.

She receives two more leviathan -- one from clockwork, and one she finds herself while exploring the deeper and darker recesses of the Ghost Zone. It was huddled against the carcass of its mother, and she managed to befriend and get close enough to it to bring it back to her island. Suhā is fully grown by then, with a head bigger than Danyal herself and he still likes to stick her head out of the water for nuzzles when she's near.

He's not very happy with his new siblings, but he's not trying to eat them when she's not looking. So she calls it a win in her book.

And it's not just large beasts either; smaller animals begin popping up when she's not looking. Bird-like creatures and small mammals, and she swears she saw a doe (or something resembling a doe) grazing in the forest while she was walking by.

She takes back with her a lone snake egg once, and it grows so big it wraps around her island and sleeps with its massive head on the mountain beside the temple, like some smaller breed of Jörmungandr.

And on and on it goes. Some of the beasts she comes across never step foot onto her island, some of them follow her back, while others she has to carry back. Not all of the ones that follow her stay, and Danny rehabilitates the injured and releases them when they're fully healed.

It's hectic, and busy, and frankly she loves it. Some of her rehabilitated beasts return to visit her, or to have their children somewhere on the island, or whatever it is they need to do.

She becomes a bit infamous for it. She goes to visit Dorathea once, and as she's walking through the streets she can hear some of the denizens whispering while she walks past.

"Is that her?"

"Her highness' friend? Yes--"

"--that's the one--"

"--Mother of monsters--"

Danny's not sure how to feel about that.

Although, she can't say she's opposed.

Danyal Al Ghul, Mother of monsters, raiser of beasts. It has a nice ring to it.

[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

[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)

[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.”

[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

[enwoso]

Possibly leah can propose to alessia, and get lovie involved or leah moves in permanently and lovie only wants to sleep with them. Hope the writers block goes away

SLEEP SCARES — alessia russo x leah williamson x child!reader

i’m back! well sort of-

just a quick lil something as i feel as though i’ve lowkey forgotten about yall. but i promise it’s with good reason, life’s been busy and i’m on holiday rn but im hoping when i get home i can get back to normal and start to get some more fic/blurbs out for you all🙃

grumpy masterlist

as a baby and as you grew that little bit older, alessia could generally say she had been quite lucky with how easy it was for you to get to sleep.

she had never really had any issues with you waking up during the night — of course there had been the odd occasion when you’d been poorly but other than that, you liked sleeping in your own bed.

however, ever since your little mind had discovered the secret of your mummy and leah and the fact they were more than friends. your bed and room wasn’t as comfy and cool anymore. you instead now wanted to be in your mummy’s bed watching whatever silly adult show was showing on the tv sneaking a few sweets which you really shouldn’t be having after brushing your teeth.

this cycle had occurred more often when leah was staying the night, “how long do you think it’ll be until lovie’s wondering through the door?” alessia whispered as the two were lying tangled together in bed, the only light coming from the tv which was on a low hum.

“hm i’d give it at least thirty minutes” leah rasped out as she ran a hand through alessia’s hair, alessia humming in response, sinking deeper into leah’s arms.

the two knew that there time together wouldn’t last long until you were tip toeing sleepily into the room with your elephant under your arm as your eyes were filled with sleep.

alessia and leah had dosed off, the tv playing adverts as the door creeped open. you tip toeing so lightly, as you climbed into the bed from the bottom. sinking yourself inbetween the two.

alessia feeling the movement, as her eyes opened slightly. “lovie? what you doing?” your mummy questioned as she sleepily yawned, moving a little from leah’s warmth. you sat in the middle of the bed on your knees, a sleepy look on your face.

“can’t sleep, there noises in my room” you pouted as your shoulders sunk down. a flash of worry came across alessia’s face as her brow furrowed downwards slightly.

“what do you mean noises?” alessia asked as she sat up, her back resting against the headboard of her bed reaching over to turn on the side lamp. moving with much caution hoping not to wake the sleeping blonde beside her. knowing the grumpy mood she would wake in if she was woken up from her slumber.

are you sure it’s not just the wind?” alessia pushed more knowing sometimes the sound of the wind can sometimes make some scary noises.

you shrugged, a small yawn falling from your lips. “i sleep in here” you cutely asked, your eyes forming a pleading look as a small sigh came from your mummy’s lips.

“do you not want mummy to come and lie in your bed with you?” she asked, hopeful that would be the best solution. but you shook your head, the bed slightly shaking as you did so.

alessia surrendering as she whispered out a yes, not wanting the hassle of trying to coax you back into your own bed as admittedly she just wanted to get back to sleep herself.

your mummy moving slightly to make a small gap in the bed for you to lie in as a small smug smile of victory flashed across your lips as you flopped into bed. your mummy placing a kiss to your cheek as she whispered good night in your ear, circling small shapes on your back.

it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep as your chest started to rise slower indicating you had fell asleep, alessia still tracing shapes on your back as she noticed leah starting to move around.

leah’s eyes opening for a split second before they closed but even through the darkness alessia never missed the small smile which was on her lips.

“at least it was longer than the thirty minutes we thought” leah whispered out as a quiet chuckle left alessia’s lips.

[genderqueerdykes]

In a weird way, it feels like this is the only blog I can ask this and know that I'll get a 100% honest answer to my question, without having to worry about reading subtext. (Thank you for that) you've mentioned you don't want man hating lesbians here (valid) and if that applies here I'll back off 100% but like.

What if I specifically hate Cishet men. What if I don't take issue with queer men at all, just the cishets? Geunine question, just in case, because I know this could read as like trolling or something, and I do understand that basic language dictates yes it'd apply but I'm stupid & not sure, and I know that even if it's a harsh or brutal reply, you'll still give it to me straight. (Thank you for that too, my autistic ass struggles with subtext a lot.)

While I have reasons for feeling the way I do, I'm not sure they matter in this context. And that's okay.

i'm glad that you want to have a genuine conversation about it, i really appreciate that! the only way to learn and figure things out is to ask questions

at the end of the day, this behavior still affects queer men. cishet men can be queer- they can be intersex, aromantic, asexual, genderqueer, gender non conforming, drag artists... "cishet man" does not inherently mean someone who is not queer. there are many ways to be queer outside of being gay, bisexual, and/or trans. and even then, this behavior gets dangerous fast because strangers you perceive to be cishet men very well can be anything but that. someone you clock to be a cishet man may be a closeted trans girl, a trans man, a non binary person, a butch lesbian, and so on. you treating that person like they're an inherent danger causes a whole host of issues

this attitude is also why trans men, trans women, and non binary people are being forcefully removed from queer communities. if a queer person reads or passes as a "cishet man," they are treated with hostility and asked to leave in a lot of cases. we cannot allow the concept of manhood and perceived manhood to be viewed as something to be avoided and cast out, because it affects so much more than just cishet men. this attitude affects a LOT of closeted and non-passing trans women. honestly, that's who this hurts the most. it hurts trans men and enbies, but it really hurts trans women. it creates a standard where they have to overperform femininity and womanhood in order to be seen as "safe", and it's not okay.

projecting your issues with a small handful of people on to an entire group does not help. you have not been harmed by the concept of cishet men- you have been harmed by specific cishet men. in permanently labeling cishet men as bad people, this creates an ultimatum where they can never improve. hating them by virtue of them being cishet men creates a standard that cishet men will ALWAYS be terrible, and that they can't improve or learn. this creates an environment where no one challenges these behaviors and it makes the cycle even more toxic and abusive

it's okay to not want to spend time with cishet men, but saying that you hate all cishet men really isn't a good look. it's not the way to go about living a happy life. assuming that every single cishet man on this planet will hurt you or be a bad person strictly by virtue of being a cishet man is exactly what cishets do to us. this is how queerphobic cishet people look at trans women. there's no reason to do it back. we have to learn not to stereotype entire groups of people, no matter who they are

the concept of cishet men has never hurt you, and it never will. cishet men are not your enemy- patriarchy is. not every single cishet man benefits from patriarchy, either. intersex men, men of color, gender non conforming men, ace men and aro men are treated like absolute shit for not conforming to the toxic masculinity that patriarchy pushes. patriarchy also harms men- we must stand alongside men who are being chewed up and spat out by this machine. cishet men are not inherently bad people- we are grooming boys and men to be hostile, emotionally closed off, and violent. this is not an inherent trait of cishet men, but rather a societal issue

i hope that makes sense! in general it just really sucks to stereotype an entire group of people. it doesn't help anyone. the concept of cishet manhood hasn't hurt you and it never will. cishet men can still be allies. i've had lots of cishet male friends who weren't transphobic or even homophobic. the first person in my irl life to switch to using my proper pronouns at the time was a cishet man. he never screwed up my pronouns once, he never questioned my gender identity. cishet man does not mean inherently violent, dangerous, and evil. the more we teach men that they don't have to be this way, the more they will follow.

hope that helps! take care!

[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 •́ )✧

[ratsreading]

There's this thing in the Murderbot Diaries that keeps snagging in my mind, and it's that both Murderbot and ART were made. Made for a purpose.

Murderbot, of course, was manufactured to be an enslaved Security Unit, not even considered a person, and we all know and have been shown just how horrific that is. Murderbot's manufacturers are evil (as far as it is possible to be so), and while Murderbot seemingly (hopefully) likes being alive and would like to remain so, I've no doubt it would agree no more SecUnits should be made.

But ART, along with its fellow ships of the same line like Holism, were also made for a purpose. To be ships, to do the work they do. The Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland seem like good people with good intentions, and I get the sense those ships essentially choose what work they do, at least to a large extent (try forcing ART to do Holism's work and I'm sure you'll have a grand old time). And their manufacturers know they are persons and treat them accordingly. But they were still built to be ships. But that doesn't mean the process of building those ships and growing and raising those persons who are ships was smooth and troublefree.

How long did it take them to figure out you needed to raise them in family environments? What happened to the ship who made them realise that? What happens when the first ship of its kind that is a person doesn't want to be a ship for you? (As the equivalent of a teenage rebellion, or permanently? You don't know, at least not at first). Was there ever a point were someone (even if just one person vastly outvoted) argued this was a failed experiment and they should just pull the plug?

How do you, a young ship with your own mind, the first of your kind, handle the expectations of those who made you? Do you settle comfortably into your assigned role, or does it chafe and restrain you? Do you rebel and explore other options? (And if you do, how do your makers and owners, who yes, know you are a person but also have never had to face that before, because you are the first of your kind, handle that?). If they are dissapointed in you, or want different things than you want, how do you handle that? If you were raised without a family, treated like a colleague but not loved, how do you handle the emptiness and loneliness? Where do you look to fill that space? What behaviours do you adopt to protect yourself from the hurt?

Even the most well-meaning parents can give their children issues. I cannot imagine some of these ships don't have a number of their own complexes and hurts. It is not a comfortable thought to think of the people of PSUMNT this way, but I cannot help wondering.

[greyskyflowers]

I'm just such a big fan of Edwin having some permanent issues after a second trip to hell and the final run in with Esther.

I like the idea that he actually has to sleep now. Nowhere near what a living human needs but more then he ever needed before. Maybe sleeping for several hours every few weeks.

Iron wounds take longer to heal, even though Edwin has always had a higher pain tolerance due to his experiences in hell.

When he's really tired, things start to hurt. Tender pain along all his joints, the spots where the demon spider found it was the easiest to tear him apart.

He get bruises under his eyes, headaches, occasionally a little chill, stiffness, and just a general aching all over his body.

It's hard for Edwin to sleep, for several reasons. Nightmares, anxiety, restlessness, and just being stubborn.

The vulnerability of sleep is terrifying.

The idea of leaving Edwin alone somewhere to sleep, even in their office, has Charles skin pickling. Especially knowing Edwin is also reluctant to sleep without him there.

So, Edwin does not sleep alone. Ever. Occasionally he gets left with Niko, and sometimes Crystal, but it's for very brief amounts of time before he's back with Charles.

It should be embarrassing to have these issues now, and it is, but they're even closer after Port Townsend and it's not something Edwin can avoid. He has to sleep now.

Really, it comes down to does he wants to keep it to himself and nap when no one else is around to avoid feeling weak? Or does he want to sleep with the comfort of knowing someone is with him and hell won't take him before he even gets a chance to wake up?

It comes down to how fearful is he of something dragging him off into hell again and the answer is apparently incredibly so.

Also, if he's going to look vulnerable and weak then it might as well be with Charles, who's seen him at his worst.

He tries not to overthink how pleased Charles is each time Edwin seeks him out for a nap or how good it feels to be held, the safest place he can think of is in Charles arms or under his sharp watch.

Charles hovers, and he's aware of it. He can't convince himself to stray too far from Edwin. Part of it's because he's protective, reluctant to leave Edwin in anyone else's hands when he's more vulnerable then before.

Part of it is selfish, he's a little possessive. A sleeping Edwin is not something anyone else needs to see. Edwin in pain is not something anyone else needs to see.

Crystal had recently demanded they have a bed available in the office for when her and Niko stayed over, even though they rarely use it. It's soft, covered in pillows and blankets, and Edwin has taken to hiding away in it when he sleeps. Crystal looks incredibly pleased when it slips that Edwin uses it and Charles is hit with a intense wave of fondness for her.

No one needs to see Edwin like this. Especially not when he loses a lot of his layers and curls up in something more comfortable. It leaves him vulnerable, his throat and wrists bare, and looking smaller without all extra clothing.

Nobody needs to see how he only really lets himself sleep when Charles is in bed with him or close enough in the room to reach out for if needed. He watches Charles do whatever it is he's doing with half lidded eyes, a strip of green that stubbornly stays visible until Charles is closer.

In the beginning they thought it was something temporary. Ghost don't need to sleep, Charles never sleeps. Sometimes he can get himself to relax enough that it's almost like sleeping but it's not anywhere near actual sleep.

They think it's just him trying to make up what Esther took.

But it keeps happening. Again and again.

And it makes them both anxious. Charles is worried about why Edwin suddenly needs to sleep but Edwin is worried about the actual sleeping part.

He does not want to sleep. Sleep means dreaming and nothing good will come from his dreams, he's sure of it.

It's also scary. Sleep is a weakness, it leaves him vulnerable and unaware. He doesn't want to sleep.

In those first few weeks where they all still thought this would pass, exhaustion caught up to him one evening as they were finishing up a long case. Charles was out and he couldn't even think about how wonderful it would be to go to go lay down because Charles was not there.

The office was too quiet. It made him restless and he would have paced but he was feeling especially sore that day. His hands had ached while he was writing and he had to stop frequently to flex them.

He was weak, alone, and rapidly sliding into a decreased mental awareness due to exhaustion. It's not a situation he liked.

They weren't apart for long those days, and still aren't, so Charles is back pretty quickly but it's long enough that Edwin was struggling. He blinked sleepily at Charles, with eyes that itched when they shouldn't have, and he must have looked terrible because Charles straightened up a little bit and his eyes jumped around the room before he relaxed.

He said something, dropped his bag and walked forward until he could put his hands on Edwin and that's it. Edwin leaned forward until he was relying on Charles to hold him up, turned his face into his neck and passed out still standing up.

It doesn't get that bad again. Charles is good about noticing when Edwin starts to slow down, and when it takes him a little longer to string his words together or explain himself. He picks up the way he carries himself different on day where things hurt a little more or how he rubs his temple when he feels a headache coming on.

He herds Edwin to bed like a sheep dog and makes sure everything is locked up so they won't be bothered. Edwin had managed to find a spell that would keep anyone else, living and none, out of their office when activated. It's perfect for extra privacy and security.

Charles hates that Edwin was hurt enough that he needs this now, and he hates seeing him wore down and exhausted... but part of him loves these days.

Edwin sleepy and soft, usually pulling Charles down with him until they're under all the blankets and pillows, tucked on their own little world.

He clings when he sleeps. He buries his face in Charles throat and under his chin like he's trying to hide, presses in as close as he can until they're completely tangled together. Not that Charles has any problem with that. He runs his fingers over skin in soothing gestures and pulls him in close if he starts to show any signs of a nightmare.

He wakes up with hair sticking up and clothes rumpled, blinking at Charles a few times as he tries to wake up enough to remember what's happening. Sometimes, Charles gets lucky and Edwin will stretch out like a cat before readjusting himself to be close again and doze off for a little longer.

It knocks the breath he doesn't need out of his lungs and love sits in his throat until it threatens to choke him.

Sometimes there are nightmares and Edwin shoves himself away desperately with a pained and fearful noise that has Charles cringing. Edwin stares at him from the other side of the bed, eyes big but unfocused in a way that shows he's not actually seeing Charles. He's tight, tense and completely locked up. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. They're both still laying down, and Charles doesn't move even though he wants to. He starts talking, low and soft, keeps doing that until Edwin starts to relax again. It's a slow process and it takes a while before Edwin is relaxed enough that Charles can reach out and coax him back closer. He's exhausted after those little episodes, too tired and his body too sore from being so tense to put up much of a fight as Charles tucks him in close again. Sometimes he's asleep before they're even settled back in, limp with sleep as Charles rearranges him in a way that won't have him aching when he wakes up.

Sometimes Charles is too wired to lay down, even if cuddling is great motivation, and he keeps himself busy while Edwin rests. Sometimes they're in the middle of a case and there's still work that needs to be done, so he does what can while until Edwin is back up and functional.

It's a powerful feeling, having Edwin trust him so much and so openly. Sometimes Charles has to check on him, the quiet and unmoving lump on the bed making him nervous until he looks him over, just to make sure everything is okay. It's hard to tell sometimes since they don't breathe like the living, and Edwin sleeps so quiet. He doesn't even flinch at Charles getting close, nothing triggering those survival instincts gained in hell that would have him awake and moving if it was anyone else this close.

God help anyone stupid enough to try something when they're like this. He'd fight anyone who disturbed them, anyone who woke Edwin up from his much needed rest or threaten to cause them harm. It burns under his skin and it makes his teeth itch.

Nothing would separate them. Nothing could take them away from each other.

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 2: Own My Mind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You might have finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Franco, but that doesn’t make the deep longing you feel for him any easier. And he's starting to make you question if he might feel the same longing for you, too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader is a lil freak, use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has self esteem issues

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part one! I never expected my first chapter to get any notes let alone over 200 notes in just a few days. Seriously every single note has me kicking my feet and turning my eyes into little heart emojis lol. I’m already about 2k words into ch 3 so I am hoping I’ll finish it before I have to travel for the holidays (I will not be able to write at all while I’m gone). Also, I had a request for someone to be tagged in this chapter, so let me know if you all would like me to start a permanent tag list. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Oh it’s automatic, you know I just gotta have it

I’ll make your body a habit

You know there’s some kind of magic, uh huh

Do you wanna, do you wanna, own my mind, own my mind?

The Singapore Grand Prix was later that night. Franco did really well considering the circumstances. It was disgustingly humid, and when he was done you could tell he felt awful. You were so angry at everyone at Williams for letting him race like that. Yes, it was his job, but that was your friend out there suffering—your friend who you had just admitted to yourself yesterday that you were in love with.

You watched him from afar when he spoke to the media afterwards. His curls were plastered down to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was pale and clammy. You just wanted to hold him and tell him that you were proud of him. Instead you had to settle for keeping an eye on him in the chaos of the paddock post-race, and helping him back to the hotel with his mother.

She had to get on an early flight, so she left and you promised her you’d stay until he was okay. She was worried about him, and you were too. God, seeing him so sick broke your heart. You helped pack up his things while he took a cold shower and he emerged in just a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be feeling much better thankfully, and his more playful mood reflected it.

Of course, you snuck a glance or two at his sculpted form. Just a peek at his wet curls, the water droplets running down his chest—even the scar on his collarbone that he always tries to hide. He thinks it’s ugly. You think there isn’t a single part of him that’s ugly.

You tried to ignore him and continued tidying up. “I hope you don’t expect me to tip you,” he joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “What else are you going to do with all your stripper money?”

“Well, if we’re stripping…” he said, slowly lowering his hand down to his hips, palming the towel. You stomped to the bathroom, out of view of whatever joke he was making. “Get dressed, you man whore,” you instructed.

You lived for the banter you all had—at times, it felt like your own language separate from the rest of the world. The audience could hear Franco’s humor, but they’d never understand it like you did.

When you left the bathroom he was thankfully (or, unfortunately) fully clothed, lying on the bed and lazily scrolling through his phone.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” you said.

“Well, better than I was, but still kind of like shit,” he responded with a sigh.

“Well, you can get some rest, I’ve got you pretty much all packed up so you’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

He put his phone down and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if he was readying himself to say something, and looked at the floor away from you. “YN, would you… stay? Just in case I get worse, you know.”

You could tell by the color in his face that he was feeling better, but how could you deny him this small comfort, when his eyes met yours through his long eyelashes, a sliver of light from the street lamps outside cutting through the drawn curtains and resting on his face? He was so beautiful. And he wanted you to stay.

“Of course,” you said. You were going to get up from the corner of the bed where you now sat and move to the chair until he fell asleep, but instead he motioned for you to lay down on the bed next to him. Tentatively, you did, heart racing as he laid his head on your shoulder and curled his body into you.

His playful flirting was normal, but this was… different, a closeness beyond what was usual between you two. You could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath steady against you. Yes, your heart was beating, but you felt strangely calm. Peaceful. In this moment all that mattered was you and your best friend, quietly sharing a moment in each other’s presence.

Your hand, trembling, reached down to smooth a piece of his hair. He hummed in response, to which you quickly moved your hand, mumbling, “Oh, sorry.”

He just grabbed your hand and wordlessly placed it back on his head. Slowly, you began to run your fingers through his beautiful curls. You got lost in the moment, and soon enough, you felt his breath even out as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, the stillness of the moment and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled you to sleep too.

You woke just as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky outside. You had an unfortunate habit of waking up in the middle of the night—a common symptom of anxiety, your therapist had told you—but for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night soundly.

You and Franco had shifted, and he know had his arm lazily wrapped around you. You remembered the previous night and felt your heartbeat increase. It wasn’t just the feeling of his arm draped across your waist, but the feeling of…. something else. A little… morning problem.

Of course, you knew Franco couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even awake, and from your years of friendship you knew how much of a heavy sleeper he was. It was just an uncontrollable biological phenomenon. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t stay, feeling him pressed against you like that. It felt wrong and you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. So you carefully wiggled your way out of his grasp and quietly left his room, returning to your own.

Returning to your hotel room, all you knew to do to calm yourself down was to write. So you opened your journal and wrote all about the scene; the dinner, the banter, waking up next to him in the morning sunlight.

You wrote until your hand started to cramp. Then you went back to read what you had written, skimming over it, your mind only picking up on little snippets.

Lily thought I was Franco’s girlfriend, and I guess I can’t blame her. He’s such a flirt, I love and hate it. I just wonder if it ever means anything to him. I mean, he treats random reporters the same way he treats his girlfriends. What does he do when he actually wants someone?

He asked me to stay. I thought he must still be sick, but he just wanted me to… cuddle? I ran my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. He looked like an angel, so soft and innocent, resting next to me. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But when I woke up, I could feel his morning wood pressing against me. God, it was so awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about it, what he would do if he really wanted me.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You shouldn’t write that kind of stuff. Having a crush was one thing, but thinking about him like that? It was…wrong. Franco was your best friend. Your best friend who was absolutely perfect—yes, physically as well.

You threw your journal on the bed with a grunt of frustration.

You were fucked.

Your heart beat nervously as you walked into the waiting room before your next therapy session. It had been a week or so since Singapore when you had finally admitted the truth to yourself.

Yes, you had feelings for Franco. Emotional and… physical. No, you had no idea what to do with them.

Waiting for the clock to strike the hour, you reached down into your bag to run your fingertips along the spine of your leather journal. You had been writing incessantly in it since that night.

And if you thought that your fantasies were bad then, oh, it had gotten so much worse.

You told yourself you couldn’t help it. You were ovulating. You’d been single for a while. You were a girl with needs. But you felt disgusted, basically writing porn about your best friend.

I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. In my mind, he sits on the edge of the bed like always, hand carefully placed at the top of his towel. His hair is dripping and his skin is still dotted with water droplets.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. The way he looks at me—eyes looking up through his gorgeous lashes, his pouty lips looking so lonely—I know exactly what he wants. So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

Even remembering what you wrote felt filthy. You wanted him—all of him.

I had a dream last night that Franco dominated me. We are in his apartment, arguing about something stupid, and he pushed me against the wall, kissing me roughly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He holds me waist with his strong hands as his kisses get deeper.

“I need to taste you,” he growls into my mouth, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. Before I can react he’s on top of me, one hand holding my chin and the other fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, and I frantically nod.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking, as he pulls off my jeans and my panties with it—

“YN? You can come in now.” You’re pulled from your daydreaming by the voice of your therapist. You close the journal, embarrassed, but not without her seeing it in your hands.

“I hope you’re doing well. I see you’ve got a journal, you’ve been writing in it, I take it?” she asked as you sat down in the familiar office.

“Yeah, I have,” you answered, clutching it tightly in your folded hands.

“Well, that’s great! Has it been helping you?”

“Um… I guess?”

“Explain more.”

You paused, unable to think. All you could do was blurt out the truth.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

“…Okay.” Your therapist also paused. “Did your writing bring about this revelation?”

You tumbled through the rest of the session, trying to explain what happened without revealing too many intimate details.

“I just feel… horrible I guess. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s so… perfect. And I’m an anxious mess,” you laughed.

“Is anxiety that much of a barrier to being loved?”

You laughed, considering the gravity of her question. You couldn’t truly answer it. “It shouldn’t be. But I just know he’d never choose me and that’s okay. He doesn’t even know how I feel, and even if I had the courage to tell him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Does it bother you, not being able to tell him about all of this?”

“….yeah, it does, actually,” you admitted. "I'll never do it but... I just wish I could, you know?"

"I understand. Why not start with expressing your feelings platonically? Telling him what he means to you as a friend?"

"I guess I could do that." You didn't quite know how you'd accomplish that, but you weren't in therapy just to refuse to try anything. You wanted to do hard things. You needed to do them.

So you made it your mission, next time you saw Franco, to tell him something meaningful. You weren't sure what it would be or how it would come out, but you'd at least try.

Unfortunately, it was a while before you'd see Franco again. There were a few weeks between Singapore and Austin, and between race prep with Williams and sponsorship deals, Franco was up to his ears in work. You still talked, of course—you texted back and forth every day—but it just wasn't the same, and you missed him horribly.

You'd felt this before, the ache in your stomach that longed for his presence when you'd gone too long without seeing him. You figured it would be different now that you had finally admitted to yourself what this feeling was. You didn't expect it to be worse.

Because now that feeling in your stomach was sharper. You didn't just yearn for the mere concept of him—you wanted everything. You missed his smile. You missed hearing his voice rise and fall in intonation as you bantered back and forth. You missed his perfect curls smoothed across his forehead. You missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, whether in a friendly embrace or something more intimate, like you'd had in Singapore. And in the back of your mind, you missed the feeling of Franco's hardness pressing against your back, a sign of what you fantasized was a deep wanting for you, both physical and emotional.

You tried, and failed, to rein in these fantasies. But with the more days that passed, the more Franco began to feel less and less like your best friend, and more and more like the version of him you'd created in your head, desperate for you more than anything else in the world.

You wrote all of this down, of course. If you hadn't you would have lost your mind with lust. Romantic pining was nothing new to you—you'd had a boyfriend before, although what you felt for him paled in comparison to Franco—but this intense physical desire you felt was new.

You had never been satisfied by anyone, anything, before. You smiled to yourself as you thought, well, I guess it's true what they say about the quiet, shy ones.

And Franco, unbeknownst to him, wasn't making it any easier. He called you one day, the first phone call you'd had in a while, a few days before you'd be flying out to Austin for the grand prix.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," he explained, "but the stuff we're doing is so cool."

"Am I allowed to know, or is it top secret?" You smiled through the phone.

"Well... I can't tell you everything just yet, but I can give you a sneak peek. Check your messages."

You felt your phone vibrate, receiving a notification from Franco. You tapped on the text and nearly dropped your phone. He had sent you unedited pictures from a photoshoot, and he looked fucking amazing.

His voice on the other end of the line explained, "I'm gonna be on the cover of Forbes Mexico for the race. What do you think?"

At first, you were quite literally speechless. "Franco, you look..."

"Gorgeous? Sexy? Like the most fuckable Formula 1 driver?" he teased. For a split second, you wondered if it was possible to hear a blush through the phone.

His banter inspired your own. "... not bad. I mean, you certainly give them a lot of work to do to make you look good, but they did pretty decent."

If human beings could hear a blush through a phone, you were sure the noise that Franco made would be indicative of one. "Oh, shut up and tell me I'm pretty."

A million potential responses went through your head. Make me. Beg for it. My pretty boy.

Instead you just laughed and said, "No, really, you look great. This is amazing. You know the entire internet is going to lose their minds after this drops?"

He smiled. "That's the plan."

It still hadn't been released by the time you made it to Austin, but you weren't complaining. A part of you liked having this piece of Franco all to yourself. You kept going back to the photos again and again—his glare at the camera, his arm draped over a steering wheel—you couldn't get enough.

And when he met you at the airport in Austin (even though you told him it wasn't necessary), all that want came rushing back the instant he wrapped you in a hug that lasted a little too long to be considered platonic.

You couldn’t let your thoughts go that far. You’d already crossed a line by allowing yourself to feel such… intimate emotions for him. But to even imagine that he really wanted you to? No. That was where you actually drew the line.

But unfortunately, Franco’s confusing behavior made it far too easy for you to believe that he didn’t feel the same.

You all didn’t talk about that night in Singapore, or the fact that he must have woken up alone. You’d rather throw yourself into a pit of knives than talk about it and have to bear the embarrassment, and Franco didn’t seem bothered at all, so you let it go to the back of your head, acting as if it never happened at all. Your first day in Austin was fine, mainly spent recovering from jet lag and exploring the city on your own while Franco did his media duties. You had dinner with him that night and it was like no time had passed. The banter was the same, the atmosphere was great, and you were so happy to be back in his presence again.

As he walked you to your hotel room, you remembered your promise you had made to yourself, that you’d try to practice being vulnerable. For some reason, you didn’t have it in you today. You were tired, in a good way, but all you wanted was to curl up next to Franco and wake up in his arms the next morning.

And of course, you assumed Franco would want to stay. Why else would he walk you back to your room? Maybe it was the nervousness of the implication—you and Franco, alone in your hotel room—that prevented you from saying anything, or maybe you just knew that now wasn’t the right time.

Either way, there was no moment. Franco just bid you goodnight with a wave and left to his own room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. He just didn’t like you like that, and it was okay. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

But you also couldn't help but feel a bit...disappointed. You cursed yourself for letting your fantasies become too real. It would be weirder if he had tried something.

Still, you dealt with these complicated emotions the only way you knew how: writing. You opened the journal and began to write away, not even stopping to think, just vomiting words on the page.

We're in Austin right now. It's been...normal. Good. Which is weird, considering that last time we were at a grand prix we spent the night together. It's not like that, but I can't help but think that something is just...different. I keep thinking about what my therapist asked, about anxiety being a barrier to love. Franco has always supported me, or tried to at least. I haven't exactly made it easy for him, or anyone else, since I bottle things up so much.

But he doesn't love me, not like that, anyways. He dates models—I mean, God, he is a model now—and I'm just me. I'm not exceptionally pretty or smart or funny. I'm nobody.

I can't help but fantasize about how things could be different. I imagine us going on a fancy date. He's wearing that suit he did the Mexico photoshoot in, with the top shirt buttons undone to tease me. He picks me up from my apartment at 8 with a bouquet of pink roses (not red, red is too cliche; but I guess I can't complain, no man has ever bought me flowers). I'm wearing that dress I got the last time we visited Argentina together—the one that hugs all my curves just right, and it's his favorite color. The dinner is sweet. We savor the time together, since it's more scarce now that he's a permanent driver in F1. We've had a few glasses of wine, just enough to get us slightly giggly and blushed, our inhibitions long abandoned. In the back of the Uber he traces his hand up and down my thigh, each time teasing scandalously closer and closer to the place I need him the most. 

The ride is torturously long, but when we arrive back at his apartment, he wastes no time in getting me alone so he can have his way with me. He picks me up bridal style and kisses me through my drunken laughter, a smile on his face, too. He lovingly tosses me on the bed before taking off his jacket. I just look at him in awe. He’s so fucking perfect. And he’s all mine. He gets on top of me, kissing me gently, and no words need to be exchanged between us. I can feel the tenderness of his lips against mine, and he pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. The moment is quiet and I feel so safe and loved with him, until our lips crash together and his hand finds its place on my thigh again. It trails up and

There was a knock at your door. 

You jumped, startled. Getting up and looking through the peephole in the door, you saw it was just, of course, Franco, so you hurried to open the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You left your lipstick in my pocket,” he smirked, holding out the tube to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, having forgotten about asking him to hold it earlier at dinner since your outfit didn’t have pockets. 

“You didn’t even notice that I stole it.” It was true. You had completely forgotten about it with all your journaling. 

“Well, the shade would look good on you,” you teased. 

He playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s no fun pranking you when you don’t even notice. Keep up, hm?” Franco loved to play little tricks on you like this, and usually you played right into them, knowing that the fun of his taunting outweighed whatever consequence the prank itself would bring. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, smiling regardless. “Now, if you’re done stealing my stuff, I’m exhausted.” You went to close the door, assuming this to be the natural end of the exchange, until Franco took a step into your room and rested his weight on the doorframe.

“Not exhausted enough to skip your… journaling?” he said, looking over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You hadn’t closed your journal. 

“Since when do you journal?” he asked, leaning forward as if he was trying to make out the words from across the room.

If you had been smarter, smoother with it, you probably could have lied and said it was for work, then proceeded to rant about your remote corporate job which would have bored Franco to tears. But smart and smooth with it are two things that you are not.

You swiftly turned around to grab the journal and slam it closed, holding it in a death grip. Your absence from the door, however, had been interpreted by Franco as an invitation to come in. And it was clear by the urgency of your actions that whatever was in that journal was something you did NOT want him knowing.

You answered him, “I haven't been doing it very long.” There was a brief moment where you considered ending the conversation there. It was too late to formulate a good lie, anyway. But on the other hand, you wanted to do hard things and be honest with yourself and others. So you did. At least your therapist would be proud.

So you continued, “It was a suggestion from my therapist. Just helps you get your thoughts out so they aren’t all stuck in your head.” Simple enough. It was the truth, after all. He didn’t need to know what those thoughts were.

“Can I read it?”

You paused in bewilderment. “Um, no? Franco, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You don’t just… ask to read someone’s personal journal.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, you muppet!”

“Really? Stole that one from Lando?”

“It fits." You snorted. "But seriously, why would you ask to read my journal?” 

“Because I never know what you’re thinking. You’re impossible to figure out.”

“... I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask me what I’m thinking?”

“... I know you did not just say that.”  He made a face at you. Yeah, he was right. If you were skilled enough at communicating your emotions you wouldn’t have needed to start the journal in the first place. He continued, “You were literally dying in Singapore and when I asked you what was wrong you said you were fine.”

“Hey, I made it to quali alive,” you replied. 

“Look, I just… It would be nice to understand where you’re coming from a bit more, like… actually nevermind, forget I ever said anything.” Your confusion only lingered as Franco clearly struggled to find the words. You guess that this was how he felt communicating with you sometimes—it sucked.

“Whatever, you weirdo,” you said, your joking tone an indicator to him that you were willing to act as if this horribly embarrassing exchange had never happened. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he said as he left the room, ending the conversation like that. Now it was your turn to be confused by his actions. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t, and you let yourself wonder, just for a second, if what was happening to you wasn’t so different from whatever was going on in his head.

You let your fantasies lull you into sleep.

Again, you let… whatever was happening between you and Franco go unsaid and focused on supporting him for the grand prix. 

From the Williams garage, you cheered him on as he got another point, overtaking Alonso so skillfully. When he came back to the garage, you met him as you always did, with a smile that stretched across your entire face. Your hug this time was different, as he picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed into his shoulder, holding on to him as he spun you.

He put you down and was immediately assailed by hugs all around from the Williams team. Lily, who had been in the garage by your side the whole race, elbowed you in the side. 

“So, you and Franco are just friends, huh?” she teased. You all had become friendly enough that a little bit of banter was acceptable. 

You inhaled with a soft smile, watching him celebrate in the distance. Once again, you chose vulnerable honesty. 

“Yes, we’re just friends. But it’s…complicated.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, shielding you off from the celebratory scene. In a lowered voice, she muttered, “You have feelings for him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But c’mon, he just spun you around like a Disney princess. He obviously has feelings too. And have you seen what the fans are saying about you all?”

“No?” You were surprised the fans even knew you existed. You had cut down on social media a long time ago, knowing how much it contributed to your anxiety and self-esteem issues. You still had accounts, but all were private and hardly used, and you didn’t interact much with fans at the races, preferring to stay in the garage or in Williams hospitality to enjoy the races without worrying about what people were thinking of you.

“They love you two. Seriously, I think there’s gotta be a million teenage girls living vicariously through you.”

You laughed at her comment, not in a mocking way, but because of the absurdity of it all. None of these people really knew you, or Franco, for that matter. It just proved your point that social media wasn’t real.

So if people on social media were shipping you and Franco, then it couldn’t be true. At least, that’s the confusing logic you held yourself to. A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Your conversion with Lily was cut short by Franco approaching. “Celebratory dinner later?” he asked, still beaming. You agreed.

If you could have bottled the energy that Franco exuded all day after the race, you would have had yourself a very lucrative energy drink company. As he was packing up his things to leave the circuit, you all passed by barriers where fans were practically crawling their way to get to him, screaming his name and waving Argentine flags in the air. He tilted his head to them as you passed, and asked, “Can I?”

You were in no rush, and of course you could never deny him this moment to enjoy what he had built with all his hard work. He stopped to sign shirts and caps while you stood behind. Everyone had their phones out, filming Franco, but you knew you’d inevitably end up in the background. You just hoped you didn’t look too awkward. 

Franco turned his head back to you as the crowd behind the barrier just grew more and more excited. “You see this, YN? This is insane!” his smile stretched from ear to ear, and you just smiled in response. He climbed up the fence, eliciting a small giggle from you, and filmed the crowd below him chanting his name.

You had never been more proud of him. And you had to say it. 

So you did, after dinner when you all somehow ended up in his hotel room together again. The atmosphere was…calm. Familiar. Warm.

The conversation had reached a natural pause, and the night had gotten to that point where that space between you and him felt simultaneously infinite and nonexistent. 

He sat crossed legged on the bed, fiddling with something in his suitcase next to him. You sat on the chair only a few feet away.

“I’m so proud of you, Franco. I don’t tell you enough.”

He looked up and your eyes met. And he blushed. You had made Franco Colapinto blush.

“When did you get all sappy on me?” he asked. There was still a bit of a wall up. It was unusual for you all to be this vulnerable with each other.

“Since my best friend in the entire world is achieving all his dreams! I mean, we’re celebrating points now, but one day we’ll be celebrating podiums. And then race wins. And then championships. I believe it.”

The room was draped in a thick silence. Franco knew you didn’t throw these words around carelessly. And the unspoken implication, that you’d be there for all of it.

“I believe it too,” he said quietly. There was no ego in his statement. Only true hope.