#this is the new edited version

[magicicephoenix]

dca brainrot came back 👍

[userarmand]

Il ne nous faut pas d’autorisation. Elle est à nous, la propriété.

[attyrocious]

with love to spare 💕

(belated) happy birthday, corazon!

[l0nelywitchversion]

[taylornation]

We’re looking back on this year and feeling like we just lived 13 lives? 🤯

Thanks for making it best year yet! 🫶 Also, since today is 123123, we gotta say it… 1, 2, 3, let’s go (to 2024), bitch!

[ivytea]

goldfish orchid tea

[saturngalore]

afrofuturism🪐

☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆

mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3

this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.

to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.

blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).

in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).

last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333

[zeedist]

STUDY BUDDY .ᐟ — ALHAITHAM

helping hand﹕how your boyfriend rewards you for getting a good grade. nsfw﹐mdni !! fem!reader x alhaitham, academic setting, v. fingering, pet names [good girl, pretty], non-caught public sex, slight overstimulation [fem]. word count: 1.6k proofread: yup.

Your best study motivation is Alhaitham.

If him burying long slender fingers deep in your leaking heat and kneading your sweet spot until you’re a drooling mess in his strong arms could be called ‘study motivation’ in the first place. Not that you could care about the terminology when it was a damn good way to pour all your effort into grinding and memorizing for an upcoming exam in that one class you hated. Your sweet boyfriend promised you a not-so-little reward, words and lips brushing your ear as his hand squeezed a little higher up your skirt. With that hell of a study motivation, your grades had been higher than ever and you would be damned if you let them drop. 

Today is no different. 

Impatiently moving a limb, you watch the professor walk down the aisles giving out the exam papers. This might be another reason you dislike their class so much, not that you have too much time to dwell on that thought once they place a folded paper on your desk. The anxious air in your lungs finally found freedom as you unfold the paper, biting your tongue in anticipation.

An entire month of studying your heads off and an entire week waiting for the results yields you: 

A near-perfect score. 

A warmth nestles in your belly and not only because of the happiness. 

The out-of-tune bells ring, announcing lunchtime. The walk to the cafeteria happens faster than usual, your excitement carrying you faster. You find your boyfriend in your usual spot beside one of the windows, silently listening to your mutual friends. His light teal eyes light up when they catch you coming in, lips curling in a smile when you wave the paper to his face, slipping beside your sport on the lunch table. He’s so proud of you, grabbing the exam and pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head, fingers brushing back a loose strand of hair. 

“That’s my girl, so brilliant.” 

Your mutual friends congratulate you as well, all smiles and cheers —the professor and topic weren’t precisely easy, after all. The fox-hybrid even gives you a pat on the shoulder before he leaves along with Cyno, heading together to their next classes. You thank them, pulling off a smile that didn’t give away the way your boyfriend’s treacherous hands drag up and down your thighs, making your skin bloom with goosebumps and shiver. Eyeing him, you catch his eyes already on you, even when he vaguely hums to acknowledge some comment your blond friend made. 

You glare at him. He only squeezes your thigh and shoots you a little smirk. 

Before you can say anything, the bells ring again.  

Your reward arrives a little earlier than you expected. 

The next time you see each other is in those met-ups in between lessons, it’s supposed to be exactly that —a brief meeting in the little free time you both share before heading to the next class. Definitely not proper for the heated mess it evolves into the moment Alhaitham pats his lap, offering it as a seat for you when you arrive. 

Surely this was one of his little whims to tease you, right? 

Now you pray to every deity you know that no one will come to this isolated part of the library when his hand roams under your skirt, snaking his way to your panties to rub over the cloth, fingerpads giving your clit a little starting massage as his mouth catches yours in a kiss. 

The strong chest behind you heaves with his breath, his heart beating a pace faster and your hands reaching up to his broad shoulders for support. Your panties come off with a tug, hanging on your ankle as he easily holds the curve of your inner knees and—

A yelp falls from your lips as he pulls your legs apart, letting them fall over his thighs properly. The exposition is embarrassing, mortifying. If anyone happens to venture to this corner, semi-hidden by badly-arranged bookshelves and several turns, they would find you on Alhaitham’s lap, legs spread open for easy access because your boyfriend adores you in this position; so he can feel your body shivering from the pleasure he gave you and see what cute expression you made. 

Like the one right now as he bullies two fingers inside your clenching cunt, digging them slowly in and out in a twisting motion, letting you savor every unhurried drag. His breath brushes against your bare neck before he nibbles on it, nosing in your perfume. He feels the vibrations in your skin with every muffled moan of yours, it only makes him shift his pace faster so that you can’t help the little ‘ah’s and ‘um’s falling from your pretty lips. He catches them in another wet kiss. 

Alhaitham knows you too well, knows on which spot to grind and how rough to do so to make your thighs shake. Except this time he goes faster than usual, slicked digits pumping in and out of you mercilessly. Heat coils in your stomach, his teeth nibbling on your lower lips before letting go of it in favor to look at your cute fucked-up face. How your head fell back to his chest, jaw hanging low with drool on the corner of your mouth. You’re so adorable, he can’t help but roughen up his pace until every cell in your body tingles, until your hands desperately grasp into his arms, digging crescent marks. Your core muscles tighten and when your eyes roll back, he pushes you to your limits and past them, until you’re gushing in his lap. 

A strong arm wraps under your breasts, keeping you in place as his fingers bully you through your orgasm and beyond it, spiraling you into a slobbering mess. 

“A-Ah,” your voice comes out broken, “too much, Haitham—”

“Shush my dear,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek, letting go of the strong hold to help brush back some sweaty strands of hair sticking to your forehead as his fingers slowly slide out.

“You’re taking my reward so well, pretty,” he presses another kiss, in the corner of your lips. Coming down of your high slowly, you suspect something when his fingers don’t fully wriggle out. You feel his breath behind your ear, not able to notice how his eyes wander down to the slicked mess between your legs but almost hearing the smirk on his face as he comments, “Let me show you just how proud I am.” 

He pushes his rough fingers back in, shoving straight to your g-spot. Sensitive pleasure crashes on you like lightning, spreading through your body like feverish heat. You throw your head back to his chest, hands grasping desperately on any solid muscle in a lame attempt to hold yourself together even though you just moaned so hard anyone close by would have heard it. 

“Such a good girl, look at you.” He praises you while bullying your sweet spot, a stinging ecstasy cursing through your veins. You can feel his breath, erratic almost, on your neck —hot and thick, exactly how his fingers feel as he drags them almost out of you.

“Look at you, receiving my reward so so good.” He breathes shoving them right back home, drinking in how your full body shivered in his arms. 

It’s too fucking much. Stars dance in the corner of your eyes as you grit your teeth and just take it. Goosebumps bloom all over your body with heat building up impossibly warm too fast, so painfully good, making you gasp for air and shake. It makes you feel like dying from the overstimulation. And your loving boyfriend kills you when his other hand reaches to give your cute swollen clit some attention. You’re so close to the edge that it doesn’t take too much rubbing. A second orgasm burns through your body, toes curling and legs shaking as he forces you through it, relentlessly bullying your weeping pussy until your gummy walls squeeze him so tightly he can’t move anymore. 

When Alhaitham can, he slowly pulls his slicked fingers out to not overstimulate you more. You miss how his lips curl in a satisfied smile when he sees your spent figure. 

All you feel is him pressing a kiss in your temple, then in your cheek and in your lips. He rubs gentle circles on your warm tingling thigh, letting you breathe and relax for now. He’s smiling against your skin, giving you little soft kisses and murmured praises. 

Maybe you offer to help him with the raging boner straining against his pants and your asscheek when you finally notice it after calming down, but he will turn it down, helping you sit correctly. Then pulling your panties back up as you shakingly stood up, he makes a sly proud smile at this. The bells ring, cutting through the silence of your little secret love corner. Your worried expression only makes his heart melt, especially with how your lips still shine with drool. 

“Don’t worry about it now, my dear. Let’s get you some water before class, yeah?” 

Before you can protest at the unfairness of him going the rest of the day with a hard-on, he cuts off the distance of your body and gives your ass a soft squeeze. Another kiss on your forehead with a drawled, “I have another little reward for you after class. Be a good girl, and be patient.” 

After all, you have a pretty mouth too. He ought to reward it as well. 

[raiiny-bay]

Love, Dhes

Parker,

It's unfair how time with you feels so short. How the last 10 years have felt like no time at all. I like to think there are other versions of us out there, somewhere. Maybe in another timeline, another universe. I like to think we find each other no matter where we are or what we're doing. That we're together and happy and I get to love you in a dozen different lifetimes. That's what I hope, anyway. And I hope when this lifetime ends, we get to start over and do it all again. Because once just isn't enough. Not for me. Not with you.

I hope the next 10 years pass slower.

Love, Dhes

[saltpepperbeard]

You'll never know which way to turn, which way to look, you'll never see us

[natashaaromanova]

I'm New York City, I still do it for you, babe

[lonely-fried-art]

just binged the first half of a new wish that is OUT ON NETFLIX !! pleaseee go watch it

[cottoncandywhispers]

This Love is Good, This Love is Bad... / 1989 Taylor's Version

[heshemejoshi]

going west

[airoarts]

Leader and deputy

[Image description: a digital painting of Squirrelstar and Ivypool from Warriors. Squirrelstar is a small dark red cat with green eyes, standing in front of the much taller Ivypool, a gray tabby-and-white cat with blue eyes and many battle scars. The background is dark blue. end ID]

[deadpoets]

- Nathaniel Handal, from “Love Letter,” Poetry (March 2021) [x, old version]