#Balls and Boxes

[coffee-starlight-1111]

One Failed Performance!

Context:It's just a random fandmade poster art buuuut idk, in one episode, there was a circus performance going on while everything was normal, blah blah blah. Suddenly, Looey accidentally tripped on the tightrope & falls but Yatta saves him while grabbing his leg & Blot somehow noticed the situation & the whole crowd was shocked. Exept Shrimpo & Connie cause they looked like they do not care.

[for-those-who-wait]

He got his PS5 taken away, what a loser

[renwick-artz]

More Destroyer Cell and Angel Frieza

[stephreynaart]

what if. you drew some of stans alternate identities. (more preferably that andrew 8 ball alcatraz guy i think he looks completely derranged and hes perfect but you do what you want.)

I love this look so much, but something tells me 8-Ball’s a dick

[johnnyshrine]

★ 083 // “Pizza Box”

[katiekatdragon27]

Toodles is Glisten’s practice kid actually and I’m all here for it.

This is what delusion does to a person at obscene hours of the night.

Individual pictures below cut (and non-YouTube be version of the video):

I don't have much to say here today, but have a good one dudes :))

[balrogballs]

Following up with that other ask, thoughts on aragorn?

great question, my friend

[packs-pngs]

Pngs of actual things I own and are currently chilling in my room

Also I usually don't ask for credit and I don't care about everything else but the collage in the middle is actually something I made so I would like credit @mydigitalscrapbookxx if you use that thank you 👍

[addynosketchpad]

[argonmasters]

Boop.

[renwick-artz]

Do you think they would enjoy earth food?

[syoddeye]

an au of a boxing au i've barely started. price x reader. cw: noncon blowjob, injury, lots of blood and spit, a whiff of plot, abrupt ending a/n: reader can be interpreted as gender neutral.

Blood gushes from your broken nose in thick, hot streams you can’t stop—not until Price gives his permission. 

It floods your mouth, seeping around your mouthguard, slicking your throat with each strained swallow as more pours down from your sinuses. Pain radiates in waves from the fracture, reverberating through your cheeks and throbbing behind your eye sockets. Rogue tears slip free, salt sliding into the mess, but they don’t dilute the taste, just muddle it. Breathing through it is all you can do.

It spills from your chin to your knees, trickling over fresh scrapes and down to the floor. He’ll probably make you lick it up later.

Your gaze stays locked to his—two slivers beneath a lowered brow, cold as ice. It does not waver at the clink of his belt or the rustle of fabric. Nothing surprises you anymore.

Price steps forward. Fingers graze your cheek, smearing blood and tears with a touch that flirts with a gentleness he does not often practice.

“Spit it out,” he orders, using what he’s gathered on his fingers to wet his hardening cock.

Pain slows you down, but your tongue pushes behind the mouthguard, prying it loose. You tilt forward and, with a strained gurgle, let it fall. It hits his boot with an audible splat, leaving a streak across the leather. Another thing you’ll have to see to. Pink, tacky drool strings from your lips, sticking to your chin and throat.

“Filthy.” he mutters.

You know you screwed up. One job—throw the fight, make it look good, pocket the bonus. But your opponent ran his mouth, and all you saw was red. You took him apart. And now, punishment.

When he tilts forward, tapping the ruddy head of his cock to your lips for access, you hold your ground. Lower your brow. Meet him with a glare of your own.

You don’t deserve this—failure or not. You won. Maybe it didn’t pay as much, but it was a clean victory. A win for the gym. A step forward for the rookie.

Price watches a beat longer, expression first tightening, then smoothing into something worse. A chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he scrapes his nails through his beard.

“No?” he says, dropping the hand to drag a fingertip across your chin. “Dead set on bein’ difficult, hm?”

His hand shifts, and you realize too late what he’s aiming for. Thick knuckles bracket shattered bridge of your nose and squeeze.

You erupt. White-hot, blinding pain rips down your spine, searing through every limb. Your hands jolt, fingers flexing before scrambling for his wrist in a panic. You scream, mouth falling open—

—and he takes it, shoving his cock between your lips. Another muffled cry tears out of you.

The second your teeth twitch downward, instinct kicking in, he lets go of your nose and yanks your ear instead.

“None of that. You bite me, I’ll give you somethin’ worse than a broken nose to cry about.”

Pain still screams through your system, but you know better than to push him. Price doesn’t bluff.

You whimper around his cock, sniffle, the taste and scent shifting—salt and iron, sweat and musk thick on your tongue. You nod, glass-eyed and blinking through the sting.

He tugs on the shell of your ear anyway. 

“So these do work. Good. Then get on with it. Got a lot to make up for.”

You take another long, agonizing breath and adjust your grip. One hand drops from his rolled sleeve to brace against his thigh, fingers bunching the fabric. The other slides down his arm, wrapping around the base of his cock—slick with the blood and spit he smeared from your cheek. It makes the movement easier, but it burns against your raw knuckles, skin rubbed raw from sweat trapped beneath the tape you peeled off.

You start slow. Tongue moving as best it can around the intrusion—pinned, awkward—until you manage to curl it, dragging careful licks along the length. Your free hand works in tandem, firm and steady where your mouth won’t go, matching the rhythm of each bob of your head. You keep the motion smooth, mindful not to jolt your tender nose, and maintain some airflow.

The discomfort is impossible to ignore, though. It flares sharply each time his cock brushes your palate, forcing your mouth wider and wider as he stokes his own fire. Hips moving more until you’re forced to hold onto his thighs with both hands. You blink up at him, watching as his head tilts back and eyes close, an almost meditative calm settling over his face.

You’re wondering if you’ll get a rest day after all this when his palm slams down on the back of your head and shoves.

With a harsh shove, your face is mashed down onto his cock, your nose painfully rubbed against the steel wool there. A sharp squeal rips from your throat, twisting into a wet gag. Tears spill as you sob around him, and he grinds in harder with a low groan.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

A thin ribbon of precum slips down your maw, and you suppose you should be grateful—you can’t really taste it. No bile rising, no gag reflex kicking in. Just the slow burn and suffocation of its weight sitting heavy in your gut.

“This,” he growls, pumping shallowly, savoring every drag and catch, “or worse—if you keep thinkin’ for yourself.”

You feel like you’ll be wrung dry before he’s through. Each thrust pulls more spit than you thought you could produce, strings of dusky pink drool trailing down your chin, soaking your lap.

He gives you a second—a few precious breaths—as he pulls out, only to follow with a few sharp slaps of his cock against your cheek. A mix of fluids splatter with each hit, stinging where they land. You suck in a ragged, wheezing breath just in time to see his cock as it pushes in again.

After that, Price ruts into your face with reckless abandon. The only mercy he shows is not forcing you all the way down again as he uses your throat as a sleeve. The bleeding slows; your nostrils burn no longer, reduced to a dull, muted sting. You shiver, clutching his slacks like a lifeline, eyes squeezed shut, silently begging him to come.

His breathing turns ragged, each grunt tapered with a faint wheeze as he works himself up, chasing his finish. Words are beyond him now, at least—too far gone for any cruel word. When you peel your eyelids open, searching for a sign of how close he is, you catch the flush climbing his face, the veins straining in his neck and arms.

He’s pouring his anger into you, using you as the outlet, and what’s worse is the guilt that sparks in your chest. Sick as it is, you wonder if you deserve it. Maybe you should’ve listened. Your choices don’t just affect you, after all. They affect him. The gym. The spectators and investors.

Now he has to answer to their tempers.

So maybe it’s only right that you answer to his.

Finally, his thrusts lose rhythm—rough, uneven glides over your bruised tongue and wrecked mouth. His hands shift, clutching the sides of your head as he pulls back just enough to rest the heft on the flat of the muscle.

The sound you make is pitiful, a broken bleat, nose wrinkling as the first spurts of cum hit your tongue. Your eyes well up again, fighting not to choke, your mouth far too full of his cock, cum, and the mess that had already filled it before.

When it threatens to escape the seal of your lips, his hand hovers near your nose again in a silent warning. You scramble to steady yourself, to swallow past the ache, flinching as fresh pain crests in a new wave. It goes down syrup-thick along with everything else.

Only then does he retract and release his grip.

What’s left behind tastes foul—sour, clinging. You swallow again, reflexive, useless, trying to clear it. Air rushes in as you gasp, the last threads of saliva dangling from your lip, trembling with each breath.

Price gives you ten seconds, maybe less, before gesturing to his boots and the floor around them. It looks like a crime scene—blood and spit and cum splattered everywhere.

He doesn’t need to speak. You predicted it.

Shoulders quaking, you lower your hands to the floor and begin. Crawling through it, licking up every drop, every dark, metallic puddle. At his boot, you pause—wincing at the bitter tang of leather polish—but you keep going. Tongue working over the eyelets, the laces, until they shine.

Then, quietly, you retrieve your mouthguard, wipe your face with shaking fingers, and sink back onto your knees.

You’re rewarded with a pat on your head.

“What do you think? Think you’re gonna listen from now on?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, gently feeling under your nose, checking what damage remains. The skin there is tender, swollen, your touch barely grazing it before a fresh throb pulses up. And that’s just your face.

Price watches you for a moment longer, then exhales through his nose—satisfied.

“Good,” he says at last, tucking himself away. “‘Cause I’m done cleanin’ up after you. Pull that kind of stunt again, and I’ll toss you straight to Gaz an’ Soap.” He re-tucks his shirt and fastens his belt. “Get yourself cleaned up. You’re a fucking mess.”

You bow your head and hold the position a beat longer, gathering what’s left of yourself. When you finally rise, it’s slow—joints stiff, muscles aching.

And as you limp toward the showers, cataloging the bruises and welts blooming across your body, fluids drying tacky on your skin, you already know—next time, you won’t make the same mistake.

You’ll throw the fight to avoid another.

[simdertalia]

☀️ ACNH Pool Stuff Set 🏖️

Sims 4, base game compatible. 37 items 💗

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Set contains: -Bag | 4 swatches | 570 poly -Bag Tote 1 | 3 swatches | 586 poly -Bag Tote 2 | 14 swatches | 594 poly -Beach Ball | 4 swatches | 434 poly -Beach Towel | 7 swatches | 1458 poly -Box: Diving Mask | 7 swatches | 2431 poly -Box: Float 1 | 6 swatches | 334 poly -Box: Float 2 | 11 swatches | 334 poly -Box: Ring Game | 1 swatch | 334 poly -Bucket | 6 swatches | 300 poly -Fan | 4 swatches | 1196 poly -Float: Bird (Requires Island Living, bobs in water) | 6 swatches | 1158 poly -Float: Bird (BGC) | 6 swatches | 1158 poly -Float: Ring (Requires Island Living, bobs in water) | 11 swatches | 576 poly -Float: Ring (BGC) | 11 swatches | 576 poly -Mask and Snorkel | 7 swatches | 1480 poly -Ring Game 1 | 4 swatches | 522 poly -Ring Game 2 | 4 swatches | 1042 poly -Rug: Doormat | 3 swatches | 698 poly -Sandbox | 2 swatches | 5058 poly -Shoe Clutter: Jellies (adult) | 8 swatches | 810 poly -Shoe Clutter: Jellies (child) | 8 swatches | 810 poly -Shoe Clutter: Water Shoes (adult) | 8 swatches | 820 poly -Shoe Clutter: Water Shoes (child) | 8 swatches | 820 poly -Shovel | 5 swatches | 252 poly -Star Ball (glows) Requires Island Living, bobs on water | 3 swatches | 2733 poly -Star Ball (BGC) | 3 swatches | 2733 poly -Surfboard | 6 swatches | 1199 poly -Surfboard in Sand | 6 swatches | 631 poly -Surfboard Stand | 1 swatch | 606 poly -Volleyball | 2 swatches | 186 poly -Volleyball Net | 5 swatches | 2502 poly -Walkie 1-3 (3 items) | 1 swatch | 1295 poly each -Wall Palm Decor | 1 swatch | 42 poly

Type “acnh pool" into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on May 18th, 2024 💗

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my sets are early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me:

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The rest of my CC

A million thank yous to all the Simlish font makers, the font(s) used here are by @franzillasims

[johnnyshrine]

★ 066 // “Kirby”

[moldieecheese]

🐧 uh hey guys its been a bit

[addynosketchpad]

tennis ball's bucket list: walk in on two boys making out

bi version

and of course the original doodle