#Textured shower base

[silbeni]

Had a veryyy strange dream

[pierisim]

Hello hello! 

Here is the last part of Stefan's apartment! You will have 28 new items to create the perfect bathroom. There is a lit of clutter and new tiles for the wall and the floor, that you will be able to mix and macth!

I wish you a very good week-end ! 💚

You can find the items by searching for STEFAN or Pierisim in game.

Some items share the same textures so make sure to have the packages finishing by "texture" in your mod folder :)

All base game compatible, except for the shower that requires Discover University.

unmerged and merged version available.

public release: 6th of June

DOWNLOAD

[guiltyasdave]

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot. 

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin. 

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men. 

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him. 

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now. 

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.” 

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows. 

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.” 

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less. 

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet. 

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t. 

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you. 

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss. 

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous. 

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed. 

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.” 

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to. 

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators. 

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.” 

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.” 

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now. 

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?” 

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight. 

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to. 

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger. 

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work. 

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again. 

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day. 

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available. 

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up. 

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong. 

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?” 

“Javier is fine.” 

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask. 

“Why do you not like me?” 

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know. 

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?” 

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–” 

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths. 

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.” 

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are. 

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to. 

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him. 

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply. 

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep. 

You’re the one taking it personal. 

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed. 

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for. 

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?” 

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this. 

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–” 

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you. 

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?” 

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead. 

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years. 

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him. 

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself. 

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá. 

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun. 

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.” 

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out. 

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” 

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car. 

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed. 

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know. 

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , SECRET SPOTS . . . 엔하이펜 18+

enhypen hyung line’s favourite places to fuck you

PAIRING. enhypen ! hyung line × afab ! reader. . GENRE. smut, scenarios/headcannons, established relationship. . WARNING(S). nsfw, mdni, smut, shower sex, bondage, sensual restriction, bending over (?), fingering, finger folding, mirror sex, +kinks, lmk if I missed something. . WORD COUNT. n/a

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

╰ his walk-in closet !

He loves the intimacy of the small space, the soft lighting from the overhead fixture, and the gentle sway of clothes on hangers as they get entangled.

Sensory Play: Heeseung loves to tease you using various textures – like running a feather duster along your skin, or rubbing a plush sweater against your pussy as he enters you from behind.

Mirror Play: The closet's full-length mirror is Heeseung's favorite prop. He'll position you in front of it, entering you from behind as you watch your faces contort with pleasure, or have you lean on it, hands-spread, as he takes you hard against the cool glass.

Clothing Incorporation: Heeseung often incorporates his clothes into your play, using a tie as a makeshift leash, or fucking you through the legs of his pants hung on a rack. The rustle of fabric and scent of his clothing add to the closet's already intimate atmosphere.

. , P.JS / JAY ☁︎ 박종성 !

╰ his office !

Jay's favorite place to fuck you is the office. He has a private space in a corner with large windows overlooking the city lights, perfect for his secret late-night rendezvous.

Chair Folding: Jay enjoys bending you over the plush office chair, its leather arms digging into your skin as he grips them tightly and pounds into you from behind.

Window Voyeurism: Jay loves the thrill of having you pressed against the cold glass, the city lights illuminating your bare skin as he takes you from behind. He knows the danger of being seen by someone far below, but that only adds to his excitement.

Roleplay Scenarios: Jay often suggests power dynamics-based roleplays, such as 'boss and secretary', or 'teacher and student', where he guides you through various 'lessons' on his desk or against the whiteboard.

Fingering while on Phone: Jay gets a kick out of multitasking – during important calls, he'll sit you on his lap, hike up your skirt, and finger you leisurely under the desk, his voice calm and collected on the phone while you bite your lip to stay quiet.

. , S.JY / JAKE ☁︎ 심재윤 !

╰ backseat of his car !

Jake has a thing for car sex, fueled by the thrill of public intimacy and the confined space making each encounter feel more intense. He enjoys taking you on spontaneous drives, pulling over at secluded spots and parking lots where he can have his way with you in the backseat.

Backseat Contortionism: Jake loves the challenge of navigating your bodies in the cramped backseat, lifting your hips to enter you, or bending you over the front seats. The confined space forces creative positions, intensifying the sensation for both of you.

Quickies and Roadhead: Jake appreciates the quick, urgent nature of car encounters. He'll pull over suddenly, unbuckle his pants, and guide your head down for a roadhead, or bend you over the seat for a quick, hard pound.

Power dynamics shift: In the car, Jake likes to assert his dominance, telling you to get on your knees, or demanding that you hike up your skirt and touch yourself while he drives.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

╰ the bathroom !

Sunghoon's favorite spot is your shared bathroom – the warm, steamy environment, the mirrors reflecting your entwined forms, and the convenience of shower attachments and vanity counters for support make it an ideal playground for him.

Mirror play: Sunghoon delights in positioning you so that you're both visible in the large vanity mirror. He'll hold your hips and thrust into you from behind, or sit on the counter with you straddling him, so you can watch each other's facial expressions.

Shower Fun: The shower is another favorite – Sunghoon will brace you against the tiles, the warm water cascading down your bodies as he enters you. He loves the slickness and the ease of movement that the water provides.

Bath-time Bondage: Sunghoon also enjoys bathing you, slowly cleansing your body with a soft washcloth, then binding your wrists with a nearby towel, and gently exploring your helpless form.

© senascoop | tumblr

[harrie-cc]

Baysic Bathroom

You asked for it & now we delivered! Baysic Bathroom is an add-on set for the Baysic set by Felixandre & Harrie. This set of 28 items for the bathroom is the perfect addition to the original Baysic set and now takes the total of Baysic to a massive 119 items. If you haven't done already you can get the first addition of the Baysic set HERE 

Highlights of the set include: The new matching tile walls & floor, one of the most frequently requested items; a new bathtub/shower combo, plus stacking toilet roll! Oh and a toilet, because not even EA could add in too many toilets right?!

Of course all the same matching wood tones & colour palette from previous sets, plus all brand new and original textures and meshes were created for this set, so no EA items were harmed in the making of this set 😋

99.9% of the items are Base Game compatible, however the freestanding shower requires the Discover University EP to be fully functional. If you don’t own that pack the item will still place in game, but be purely decorative.

You can find the majority of the items in the build/buy catalogue by searching BAYSIC, but as the set includes a wallpaper & floor you'll need to hunt for those in the traditional way.

Early Access Now Available On Patreon

Public Release: 3rd February

[diejager]

begging for more monster 141🙏🙏🙏

hear me out- reader is a host to venom but has it hidden and they find out maybe…?

(i got hyper fixated on blue’s au and SCOURING the internet💀)

What if… Hunter was Venom?

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x venom reader

Cw: blood and gore, canon typical violence, head eating, gaslighting by Hunter, injury, fighting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Only Human masterlist

Sometimes, they’d find you mumbling to yourself, voice so low that, unless they were a hybrid or had impeccable hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was a ne’er silent whisper of harsh words or soft coos towards a being they couldn’t see. Were you talking to someone on your headset? Were you wearing EarPods to talk to someone? Or had you lost some screws in your mind after working with them for so long? None of them truly knew, but they wouldn’t bother you with it when you never bothered them with pesky questions that sounded insulting to them. After all, why would they bother their adorably useful and resourceful medic? You were the beating heart of the Task Force, you made it whole and functioning. Yet, they couldn’t stop the curiosity that festered in their mind, the need to know what made you talk to yourself, mumbling and cursing when you were alone. 

Nothing seemed out of order, you were still strong-headed and scolding them like you did the day before, mumbling about Soap’s recklessness and Gaz’s impending fate of falling out of airborne vehicles. About Price’s habit of working too hard, pushing his already pained body to work. Pulling Ghost by the - bloody and soiled - sleeve to your infirmary with a deep frown and eyes glinting with the promise of retribution for the hybrid that hid whatever ailed him from you; you were the medic for Pete’s sake! It was your duty to watch over them. Hounding Alejandro for his medical check after a deployment because, as handsome and dependable as he was, he liked hiding his wounds. Running after Rudy for his checkups while he was limping or trying to avoid you. Calling after Horanji for his share of the affection, needle, scalpel, bandage and all, he needed and deserved all the others received. Or sitting beside König, reminiscing about your early days, where taking care of your patients was as easy as taking care of König was, grateful and pliant, showering you with love and adoration before, during and after the procedures. 

You had your plate full with them, so it’d be unheard of if you had time to care for others. You might’ve been a medic on base, but your priorities and loyalties lay with them, with Task Force 141 and its allies. However being a - their - medic, didn’t mean you were free from any pain, fear or quirkiness as they were. You were as weird and as awful as every single one of them was, wearing it pridefully on your chest when you stood with them; even if you were wholly human - or you were supposed to.

Ghost caught fleeting moments where a dark mass would move around you, a glistening blob of marble-like texture with silver rivers running across it. It was near impossible to see it when it would disappear once it felt - even the slightest indication - the presence of another living being, like an illusion of trick of the light. That’s what you told them, it was simply a trick of the light or something because you didn’t know anything about an ugly blob. It was told slowly and persuasively with a wince once the words “ugly blob” left your mouth, a pained grimace as if something was grating your ears or claws were digging into your mind. When he brought it up with Gaz - who had impeccable eye-sight, the harpy would agree, spewing words about it having a menacing face with wide, pointed eyes and a mouth full of teeth. Big and sharp teeth that seemed alien-like. It couldn’t have been the trick of the light, especially since both of them saw the same thing. They asked you once more, together this time, but you’d reassured them that they were both tired when they’d seen this blob. You were tired and sometimes saw moving forms from the corner of your eyes too, so it might’ve been hysteria - collective hysteria.

Soap, if he tried hard enough, would sometimes hear a deep voice echo around you. It wasn’t something disturbingly deep, or annoyingly alien, it was pleasingly deep with a smooth undertone to its growls. It would send chills up his spine when he heard it, but he would always catch your voice talking back to it. He’d hear hisses and curses, some more unusual and others more normal: “I can’t eat my teammates!”, “I told you no!”, “Stop eating heads! People will catch on!” or “Can you shut up?” and “I can’t concentrate with you screaming my head off!” Soap, knowing how good Alejandro’s hearing was, asked if the Mexican had heard you speak with an unknown voice, specifically a male voice. A few muffled conversations between you and an unknown man and sometimes one-sided, but, simply put, Alejandro had witnessed the same occasions as the Scot had. It wasn’t unusual to talk to yourself, would it? Soap liked to boost his own morale with confident words and flattering compliments to himself. Alejandro wasn’t a stranger to mumbling to himself either, cursing his choice in life and how he ended up with his - lovable - problem-causing band of vagabonds.

If you weren’t careful or unintentionally careless, there would be a distinct odour clinging to your skin. It would be strong and pungent, the smell fresh and metallic-like. König knew it well, he craved as much as he wanted to bathe in it, the sweet smell of blood. How could he not recognize the faintest whiff of blood when it often drove him mad with bloodlust and the uncontrollable need to fall into a daze of primal hunger? It stuck to you like a second layer of skin, thin and always present. It sewed into the fundamentals of your scent, the tinge of iron mixed into the sweet, syrupy musk. It drove him mad with need, thirsting for the thing that made you smell so delicious. It clung to you as if you bathed in blood, drinking and devouring it, yet your skin was clean, with no speck of red under your nails, on your skin or between your teeth. In a worry, he went to Price, The Captain had the most knowledge about you and König could trust him to take good care of him, being a dragon. He expected the Brit to know something, even the slightest change, but Price hadn’t caught anything odd about you. Perhaps it clung to you because of your closeness to him, Percht hybrids - although rare - were ferociously unpredictable and ravenously bloodthirsty.

Rudy was the more human of them, so he caught on to the changes in behaviours and habits of others easily. You’d act odd at times, shoulders slightly tense and back slumped inward, body tired but unable to relax. He wanted to help, he proposed, but you’d turned him down, telling him you were fine, that you were just restless from being off duty for so long or for being worked to the bone. He would also catch you subtly avoiding them without ringing any bells, seeming occupied with other things while whispering under your breath; your slower reactions to their banter and the darker bags under your eyes, wearing that dazed and blank look in them while you sat with them; or the strong growl of your stomach and the slight rubbing of your stomach, soothing an ache that rooted so deeply in your abdomen. He worried, often, if he was honest. Even Horangi, a man oblivious to most cues and behaviours in humans, saw the subtle change in your behaviour when you acted odd. He pointed out the rings under your eyes, your fatigued and distracted mind, and your lip-gnawing hunger. For a hybrid that had so much difficulty grasping and understanding humans, he caught on to your change abnormally quickly, even with the excessive chocolate consumption.

They were all suspicious and you, their sweet and convincing medic, had them doubting what they saw, your gaslighting working on them as easily as a child bribed with candy. It didn’t make you feel less guilty or disappointed in yourself, but you weren’t sure how they’d react to him, not being human or a monster. He was a creature out of the pages of a sci-fi novel, a creation of the human mind and imagination. Venom was an alien, something from outer space. You were convincing until you couldn’t anymore.

Let me take over, the soothing voice uttered to you, calling out your name in a concerned tone. Let me protect you.

You were compromised, the enemy had tapped into your line, listening in on your conversations and movements. That’s how they were able to separate most of you, to turn the squad of nine operators down to four smaller teams, all on the run and trying to stick to the shadows without calling to the others through the comms. You were crouched over Gaz, whispering sweet nothings to the hissing man. You soothed his ache, hand and mind strained on the bleeding wound on his forearm, his beautiful, bronze skin stained with crimson in the hot and humid air of Columbia. 

Blood rolled down his tense arm, over his round muscle and sweaty skin, it was a clean graze, the blunt head of the bullet grazing his arm deep enough for it to bleed but shallow enough for it not to leave him incapacitated with blood loss. It was a ray of light in your dreadful situation. You had his wound cleaned and wrapped up, congratulating him for pushing through and helping him up. You cursed the enemy, wondering how the low-stake in-and-out ops suddenly turned out to be an extremely high-stake one with minimal possibility of reaching the evacuation point. 

“C’mon Gaz, we need to move,” you whispered to him, holding your rifle closely to your chest while you walked around the shadows of Guaitarilla’s back alley and dark corners. “We need to regroup at the evacuation point.”

“Yeah, good plan,” he nodded, following your lead even though he was higher-ranked than you, but in such situations, survival was the priority. 

You stuck to alleys, using the shadows to hide from the patrolling cartel that had the town surrounded, it nearly baffled you with the speed of their defences and counter-attack if you hadn’t heard of Las Almas’ attack from El Sin Nombre and The Shadows from you teammates. Although you couldn’t admire them, you could respect their skills and ability, you only wished it was for you rather than against you. 

While you watched ahead, Gaz had your back, peering around the corner before giving him the green to move. It was a rotation between who went first and who looked back, but you made it work with only you both. You were so careful, yet it somehow wasn’t enough, someone had noticed you and it sent you and Gaz rushing for cover, to escape the group of dispatched cartel members. It was stupid, running without looking where you were heading towards. It was stupid to let the enemy tap into your comms. It was stupid, the situation you got yourself into. 

You were backed into a corner, Gaz standing before you like a protective shield between you and the enemy, his rifle pointed toward the quickly advancing group. You wanted to protest about him using his wings to cover you, his wide, brown feathers expanded to hide you from those men. He was already hurt from pulling you away from harm, but he was now standing protectively before you. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you, not anymore. 

Little One, his voice rang once more in your head, the reassuring pressure of his presence in your body calming you down by an inch. Let me take over.

If you let him take control of your body, it would ensure your and Gaz’s safety, then you could reach the others that you’d lost in the chaos of the battle. While you wore the combat medic’s patch proudly, your prior training before taking up your 16 weeks of medical training wasn't lost to you. You remembered how to aim and shoot, how to snipe an enemy from afar and protect your teammates from whatever danger you faced. None were lost to you, and you’d use every bit of training you had to protect them, whether it was as yourself or with Venom’s help. Venom’s help was undoubtedly useful, and right now, you needed him.

“Please, Venom,” you spoke aloud, your soft voice carrying through the blocked alley. 

“Who-” Gaz asked, confusion laced his tone, the question left unspoken as Venom’s deep, rattling voice boomed across the tight space.

“We are Venom, flesh bag,” he growled, body crouching down, not dissimilar to a feline laying prone while it waited for the right moment to attack, and pounced at the men.

Don’t call Gaz flesh bag, Venom, you whined, your voice echoing in your shared subspace of your mind.

“If that is what you wish.”

His heavy mass landed on a man, pushing him to the ground with a loud crack. You imagined that Venom either broke his back or a few of the Colombian’s ribs, it was sickeningly delightful, the sadistic pleasure from Venom sent you reading with mirth. His hands stretched to abnormal lengths to swing at the enemies with practised ease and familiarity. Whether they’d die from blunt force trauma from Venom’s strength or live with a concussion, none mattered to him, hunger raked his being, the throb aching in the back of his mind. It was a moment where he was let loose, where you wouldn’t need to gorge on an extreme amount of chocolate to keep him fed. This would keep him satisfied for a few weeks. 

Venom pulled the first two in, his jaw widening to clamp down on their neck. Gaz saw the dangerous gleam of Venom’s teeth, rows of pristine and immaculate teeth the size of a finger bled the man’s head red in a single bite. He shivered at the decapitated body that fell from your monster’s hand as he went for the second and third Colombian. He made a show of viciousness and raw, unadulterated bloodthirst with his eating. Fortunately, apart from the bloody mess and dead bodies, Venom was a relatively neat eater, licking his teeth clean from the red stains with a long, slimy tongue. Gaz couldn’t shake how your monster made him apprehensive, his body flinching and trembling at the greater being.

“Let’s go, The Little One wants to rescue the others,” Venom’s grating voice shook Gaz out of his stupor.

“Hu-Hunter’s there?”

Venom nodded, his mass retreating into your body, the mass melting into you like a second skin. It was as if Venom was never there, as if it was all his delusional imagination. Gaz rushed to you, his hands grabbing hold of you as he shook you in his grasp, he cursed in worry, concern lacing every word he spewed in a tornado of fear, curiosity and confusion. His soft feathered wings cradled you, casting a protective shadow over you as you hid in the darkness of the alley. 

“Gaz, we have to go,” you murmured to him, your voice soft and reassuring, trying to help him walk off the edge you were pushed to. You both were safe for now, the cartel that had followed you all laid dead without their heads in a thick puddle of their viscera. “We have to find the others.”

He let out a shaky sign, his head nodding in affirmation at your comforting words. He loved that about you, that ability to heal and mend their ache and anguish with a smile and sweet words. Then, pairing your softness with your stubborn viciousness made you a gem within the military, a one-in-a-million for them. Yet, all that clouded his mind were questions, about your safety, about that monster that melted into you, about what kind or what it was. Gaz had so many questions that he’d push back for the greater good of rescuing the rest of the Task Force, he’d hound you for answers later when everyone was back together. 

When Venom resurfaced, retaking control of your shared body, he’d reassured you that he knew where they were, his body being hyper-aware of the things that made you smile and laugh. You were his host and his joy. It was an easier job than the two of you - you and Gaz - had expected, Venom’s claws digging into the buildings as he scaled the walls to reach the roof. From then, he pulled nothing back, rushing forward with the same enthusiasm as König had when he led first, and leaped, the muscles of his legs pushing him high across the buildings with Gaz flying beside him. 

Venom had made quick work of the situation, his body invulnerable to anything but loud sounds and fire, which none had since it was a rainy night. You found Horangi and Alejandro first, Venom doing what he knew best: protecting you, in relation, what you loved too, and feeding on human heads, the chemicals in the human brains nurturing him. Alejandro and Horangi were naturally confused and distrustful of Venom, but you had Gaz to smooth things over, and knowing that Venom’s way of speaking was curt and up-to-point - annoyingly blunt - it made your body soar with relief. They, albeit confused and curious, followed you from the ground as Venom cleared a path to the next ones.

Price, Rudy and Soap were the biggest team from your unexpected separation. They jumped at Venom’s appearance, Soap throwing threats at him when he took a step towards them. That was expected, Venom - even being the symbiote you were hosting - was a stranger to them and Soap reacted according to his instincts. That blaring, red light that signalled his brain to send his body on complete guard about the danger, Venom couldn’t escape a werewolf’s keen situational awareness. You’d taken the initiative to calm them down, seeing as everyone was already down,  the enemy loaded with bullets and dying in a pool of their blood. You kept the explanation short and simple, giving them the important points before promising to tell Price everything he wanted to know after you found Ghost and König.

Those two were harder to find, forcing Venom to extend himself to sense the slightest presence of either man. It couldn't be easier that Ghost was a wraith, being able to disappear and appear at will and that König knew very well how to hide, perhaps as well as Ghost could. When Venom found them, Ghost shot first, “shoot first, questions later” seemed to lead his decisions with König not far behind him. He brought his arms forward to protect himself and you, hidden within his mass. Venom growled but didn’t attack them, hissing the words you spoke to him to them. It was a simple quote that you’d shared with them in situations where they needed to find you between the hostages or under disguise. 

Like calls to like.

It was simple, but telling. They stopped the moment Venom uttered them, knowing well you were inside Venom, Gaz landing before him and the others steadily arriving behind the two. Task Force 141 was finally complete, from the most humane to the most chaotic hybrid, some were hurt, grazed, protrusions, and stabbed, but all were alive. You were glad, you were really, really happy that everyone was safe and alive.

Seated in the Razor, the silence and tension were thick within the cargo hold, Horangi and Gaz framing your sides with Price taking the seat across from you. You could see the stress and tension rolling off his shoulder after treating everyone, his brows furrowed and a frown curled his lips under his beard. Beside him was Alejandro and Ghost, both - like everyone else - wearing a confused and disgruntled expression on their face, their eyes gleaming with questions left unsaid. You’d left them wondering if their minds were playing tricks on them, if they were seeing things, if they were imagining things and if they were losing their minds. You understood the anger, but you had your reasons to hide Venom’s existence.  

Price crossed his arms, legs spread wide as he leaned back, his head tipped back with an inquisitively serious look. He raised a brow at you, waiting to see if you could prove your case or if you had anything to add before he started. With nothing to say, you bit your bottom lip, your shoulders screwed with anxiety and fear. You didn’t know what to expect now that your well-kept secret was out. 

“We have a lot to talk about, Hunter.”

“I know, Captain.”

Better sooner than later, leaving it to fester and grow would be bad for the TF’s morale and relations. 

Taglist:  @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness

[valiasims]

Arty Bathroom Collection

Hello everyone!

For my first cc collection I wanted to do something simple to get used to the proccess of creating items. I saw an ad for this beatiful and playful terrazzo sink and I wanted that in my game so I themed this collection around it. I included these decorative arch pieces which you can use different ways as you can see them on the pictures. They snap to the wall so you can put them on windows or simply use them for an accent on your walls. I hope you like the items!

The Set Includes

Decorative Arch (3 widths and 3 heights)

Ladder Shelf

Mirror (2 sizes)

Shallow Shelf (left and right variation, 3 heights)

Wall Shower

Vanity (2 sizes)

Sink

Stool

Decorative Wall (2 variations, 3 heights)

Wall Tiles

Limeswash and Tiles

🔹 Compatibility All items are Base Game compatible except the Wall Shower which requires Discover University. 🔹 TIP You can find the items easily in your Build Catalog if you type in "Arty" or "VALIA". 🔹 Info - Low poly, new, maxis match meshes- Since some items share the same texture you need to have them in your mods folder to properly work.

FREE DOWNLOAD ON PATREON

[cordeliawhohung]

simon riley x reader | drabble | fluff | artists

written as a non-canon addition to in limbo but can be read by itself

If it wasn’t for the porch light, the thick umbra of the new moon would have swallowed you whole. 

The crisp night air bites at the back of your neck with icy teeth. It was a welcomed feeling when you had first exited the sweltering oven that Sapori grew into during service. Something that licked away the thin beads of sweat that clings at the base of your skull. Now, it’s incessant. Its jaw clenches until it digs its canines deep enough to break skin, and your fingers tremble too much for you to properly sort through the keys on your chain to escape it. 

Snowy fur brushes against your knuckles as your arctic fox keychain dances with your stiff movements. The sensation coaxes a smile to your lips as glittery blue eyes catch the soft illumination of the bulb above you. Soft like a kiss. Gentle like a lover. 

Eventually, you find the correct key. It flashes beneath the light as you gently slide it into the lock. Freshly oiled, the door hardly makes a sound as you swing it open and embrace the warmth swirling around you to welcome you home. Well, almost home. Your name isn’t on the mortgage, but your clothes linger on the floor, and you know just how far to turn the knobs in the shower to get the water temperature just how you like it. 

You shut and lock the door behind you as your shoes slip off your feet with an unceremonious thud. Amber light seeps into the entryway, and the quiet murmur of the late time news beckons you closer. You follow its call with a heavy body. Every tendon is tightly wound within your body. Shrinking until you curl inward on yourself like a decaying leaf wasting away in the bored sunlight. 

Simon is sleeping on the couch. Swathed in warm light, his hair illuminates as if it’s captured the essence of the sun. He’s faced away from you, head propped up on the arm rest closest while his feet rest on the other. You tread lightly on the pads of your toes, curiosity piqued as you close in on him like a skittish cat sniffing out a good meal. A scavenger ready to feast on just the faintest scent of carrion. 

His arms are crossed over his chest, flattening and widening his biceps to fill out the width of his sleeves. You gawk, eyes glued to the ink that paints his skin as his chest quietly rises and falls with his breaths. Dreams — or perhaps it’s your presence? — forces his eyelids to flutter, and you’re drawn to his face. Thick scars. Some thin. Silvery and light, or rough and red. You’ve never seen his face like this; upside down. You soak in the view. The texture of his skin. The bump of his nose and the… 

… curve? 

You’ve never noticed it before, but there’s a slight sway to his nose where the tip isn’t exactly in line with the bridge. It deviates from its intended path, going right instead of straight (or… technically it’s his left). Curious fingers extend, tips gently grazing against his forehead before traveling along his nose. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you paint him with your touch. You feel and savor every bump; every angle. 

“You were supposed to call.” 

His lips part and dance without warning, and it has your hand retracting from him as if he tried to nip at you. Squeaking, your fingers lock over your mouth as if you can keep the temporary fear bottled up inside of you, but it still rips through your throat. Smirking, his eyes flutter open to soak in your surprise for himself. His lashes are thick enough that they nearly obscure his irises, but you’d recognize the color of home anywhere. The butterflies that were swirling in your stomach a moment before now lay in the unforgiving acid with shredded wings. 

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” you divert. 

“Am now,” he hums. 

Grunting, Simon sits up properly. Thick fingers dig into the back of his neck as he reaches for his phone. The screen flickers to life, proudly displaying 2:03 AM and a lack of messages from you. He turns to you, shaking his phone like he’s shaming a cat for scratching furniture. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. “Better not’ve walked ‘ere. Don’t want you doin’ that this late.” 

“You know I’m too chicken for that,” you giggle. “Bee gave me a ride. 

Once again he hums. The grasp of sleep still clings to him in the form of heavy eyes and lethargic movements, but his limbs act as if they’re full of helium. Airy and floating, he places his phone on the coffee table before pushing himself to his feet. For a man half awake, he moves fast. Arms snaking around your head, he pulls you close, nearly smothering you in his embrace. He’s warm enough to melt the frost still clinging to your clothes; you can feel the way it thaws and drips on the floor at your feet. 

“Still shoulda called me,” he reiterates. His words rattle your skull as his lips press against your forehead. Whatever ice still left on your body sublimates within a second. 

“Worried about me?” you tease. 

“Always.” 

Arms still wrapped around you, he begins to walk. Your legs stumble backwards as you giggle and chastise him, demanding he unhand you so you can walk properly. He refuses to relent. Just pushes you along with him like he’s herding you; corralling you in until you’re right where he wants you. 

Right where you belong. 

Simon falls back asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Greedy man, you think to yourself. Sapping all your drowsiness and using it for himself. He’s snoring. Light and quiet enough that it wouldn’t keep you awake if you were tired. Something that fills the air with white noise. Mellow shadows softly veil over his body, but you can still make out the features that adorn his face. 

Wandering fingers eventually make their way back home, and you are once again tracing his nose. Every bump, curve, angle; it’s all memorized. Ingrained in your being just like the road back home. You anticipate the change. The turns. Simon is your childhood house. You know every crack in the ceiling and the coziest spots to perch. His snoring stops abruptly with a snort. Each inhale and exhale is nothing but a gentle wind against the palm of your hand. 

He nuzzles into your touch like a dog begging for more and it isn’t long before he’s cradling your head into the side of his chest. You’ve been tracing his features — painting him until every inch of him is loved — and now he returns the favor with music. It’s all thick drum and bass against the shell of your ear while the quiet melody of his lungs weaves between the beats. The ringing in your ears cease — drowned out by devotion and life — and your achy mind quells. 

In the morning it is not the warmth of the sun that wakes you. It is the placid caress of weathered fingertips against your knuckles. Roused from your sleep, you do not stir. Instead, you stay still; the perfect canvas to be adorned with art. Each other’s muses, each other’s masterpieces, you’ll wear his love until the paint he brushes you with dries and cracks.

[felixandresims]

Baysic Bathroom :)

You asked for it & now we delivered! Baysic Bathroom is an add-on set for the Baysic set by Felixandre & Harrie. This set of 28 items for the bathroom is the perfect addition to the original Baysic set and now takes the total of Baysic to a massive 119 items. If you haven't done already you can get the first addition of the Baysic set HERE  Highlights of the set include: The new matching tile walls & floor, one of the most frequently requested items; a new bathtub/shower combo, plus stacking toilet roll! Oh and a toilet, because not even EA could add in too many toilets right?! Of course all the same matching wood tones & colour palette from previous sets, plus all brand new and original textures and meshes were created for this set, so no EA items were harmed in the making of this set

99.9% of the items are Base Game compatible, however the freestanding shower requires the Discover University EP to be fully functional. If you don’t own that pack the item will still place in game, but be purely decorative. You can find the majority of the items in the build/buy catalogue by searching BAYSIC, but as the set includes a wallpaper & floor you'll need to hunt for those in the traditional way.

Get Early Access here

This will be available for everyone on the 3th of February :)

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut - fingering, p in v, f!Reader, unprotected

Synopsis: you made the choice to present yourself as a birthday gift to the Duke

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

It's Wriothesley’s birthday, and after a long day of work, he wearily makes his way back to his private room, ready for a refreshing shower and so much-needed sleep. As he flicks on the lights, a hint of exhaustion tinging his movements, he's met with an unexpected sight. There, on his bed, lies a bra and a tantalizing lace thong, accompanied by a note that provocatively states, "I'm waiting for you, your grace."

Intrigued, he follows the sound of a running shower emanating from the bathroom. Along the way, he spots scattered clothing on the floor — a short skirt, a white shirt, and heels. Wriothesley can't help but picture how your curvaceous figure would look in that alluring outfit; Wriothesley starts to feel his dick pressing against his zipper with excitement.

He swings open the bathroom door, the unmistakable sound of the shower reaching him clearly now. Finally, the moment he had been anticipating unfolds before him: through the textured glass, he catches sight of you, entirely bare, water cascading down as you rinse off your body. Oblivious to Wriothesley's presence due to the roaring water and the subdued ambiance of the shower light, you continue your cleansing routine. 

Seizing the opportunity, he discreetly undresses, slipping noiselessly toward the shower door. Swiftly, he slides open the glass door, seamlessly entering and catching you off guard. His eager hands promptly seize your damp form, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. Turning you around, Wriothesley silences your astonishment with a passionate kiss. You surrender to his embrace, melting as his hands explore your body, from your wet hair to your back and then down to the curves of your ass.

“Wriothesley,” you whisper when the kiss is broken for a second, curling your arms around his neck.Soon, you arch your back, your hands exploring his robust shoulders and muscular back, each touch escalating the intensity of the kiss. His hands grip and play with the fat of your ass before transitioning to the front, where he begins to tease and pull at your nipples. 

Wriothesley breaks the kiss, maintaining his hold on your nipples, guiding you toward the wall. You instinctively back up, responding to his firm grip. “Hi, Y/N, I missed you so fucking much,” the duke whispers against your lips.

As your back meets the wall, he swiftly spins you around, catching you off guard, and firmly presses you against it, your back now facing his muscular chest. With one hand securing you against the wall, his free hand skillfully draws your buttocks towards him, placing it in a position of utmost submission and vulnerability.

Wriothesley leisurely positions his substantial, rigid cock against your pussy, allowing you to sense his impressive size without fully committing. Urging your hips back into the tempting proximity of him, he contemplates the desire to enter you but resists. Instead, you feel his gradual lean over you, using his free hand to explore your body from the base of your spine to your neck. He caresses your breasts, then continues upward until his hand rests lightly on your throat. As he leans entirely over you, his chin hovers at your shoulder.

Suddenly, in a swift motion, his hand descends to your clit, and simultaneously, he begins to suck fervently on your neck. Your moans fill the air as he skillfully stimulates your dripping pussy.

As your moans intensify, Wriothesley leaves a trail of hickeys on your neck. Teasingly caressing your clit for a moment, Wriothesley smoothly guides you further against the wall. With one hand, he skillfully pulls at your hips, encouraging you to arch your back, presenting yourself more fully to him. Positioned behind you, he slips two of his calloused fingers into your wetness in a doggy style, skillfully exploring your drenched pussy. 

"Oh, goodness," you gasp with a loud sigh, biting your lower lip firmly enough to taste a hint of metallic sweetness of your own blood as you attempt to grind against his digits.

A chuckle escapes him. "Well, well, did you miss me that much? How sweet," Wriothesley muses, withdrawing his fingers from you and slipping them into his mouth. Slowly, he sucks on them, creating a symphony of filthy sounds.

Blushing, you glance back at him over your shoulder.

After coaxing his fingers in his saliva, Wriothesley plunges them back into your drenched cunny, moving swiftly, occasionally pausing to apply pressure on that sweet, spongy spot that elicits yelps from you every time.

"Yes, yes, oh, yes!" you cry out, undulating your hips, yearning for more friction.

After the fingering, he withdraws his fingers, maintaining your position - bent over in a teasing doggy style. The sensation of his rigid member pressing against you once more heightens the anticipation. With finesse, he lets the head of his cock glide sensually along your folds, teasing your clit and eliciting a delightful squirm from you. He strokes himself a few times. The tip of his member traces against your clit, eliciting moans from you. You are aware that you sound like a cheap whore.

"Do you crave my dick, hmmm?" Wriothesley questions, and all you can manage is a silent nod in response.

“O-oh, Wrio!”

Wriothesley tenderly smacks your ass. "Wrong answer. I want you to articulate yourself, babygirl," he says, gliding his dick against your entrance, teasingly pushing the tip just an inch inside.

Your moans escape involuntarily. "Give it to me!"

He delivers two more smacks to your ass. "I told you to use your words," he growls, and you gasp.

"Please, my duke, grant me the privilege of feeling your cock nestled in my pussy!"

"And that's my girl," he commends, thrusting his entire shaft with one swift, forceful push.

Your cries of pleasure fill the air, a plea for more as he vigorously pounds you with his well-endowed cock. The sensation of his balls slapping against the fat of your ass adds an extra layer of intensity, complemented by the rhythmic jiggle of your ass with each forceful thrust.

In the midst of this passionate encounter, you slyly slip a hand to your clit, heightening the already intense sensations and bringing both of you closer to the impending climax. As moans  fill the space, you sense his impending release, eagerly anticipating the culmination of your shared pleasure. 

Wriothesley thrusts into you with intensity, intermittently grabbing the fat of your asscheek, squeezing it while his other hand maintains a firm hold on your hip, guiding you on his dick. "That's it, that's it," he grunts appreciatively. "Just like that, you're taking me so well, babygirl," he praises. 

Wriothesley releases a loud grunt as he senses your pussy spasming around him. "Oh, fuck, yeah!"

The duke, with a final, sultry groan, becomes the first to reach his climax. His thick seed erupts deep within your drenched cunny, accompanied by a string of curses and praises for your efforts that escape his lips. Even post-orgasm, he continues with a few more deliberate thrusts, ensuring you reach your own climax.

After a lengthier moment, you throw your head back, screaming his name after reaching your own peak. 

Wriothesley gradually withdraws his member, observing how the mixture of his seed and your juices oozes from your swollen pussy, dripping down onto the shower tiles.

"Happy birthday, your grace," you whisper, turning your head to him.

[snowivivienne]

VIVI HAIR RULES ୨୧

If you want long, shiny, soft and healthy hair here are my rules that I stand by

૮꒰ྀི ୨ ៸៸៸ ୧ ྀི꒱ა ༊࿐ ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚.

1. Don’t try and “train your hair” - if it’s oily, wash it. Healthy scalp comes before anything, even if that’s washing everyday. (Which isn’t damaging despite what people say btw) If you can go longer then that then do it.

2. Do a pre-shampoo treatment, I use coconut oil. If you feel it messes up your hair, most likely you aren’t washing it all off, so instead try a coconut based oil instead of whole coconut oil. Keep this on your ends for at least 30 minutes before showering.

3. Do not go to bed with wet hair.

4. Do a head massage everyday for at least 5 minutes, don’t use your nails but instead use the pads of your fingers.

5. SPLIT YOUR ENDS AT HOME. This is so important, check for split ends regularly. If you see any, cut them right away.

6.Don’t be tricked by marketing! I actually prefer drugstore haircare to high end.

7. Use bonding treatments, l’oréal has a new bond repair line that is good!

8. Microfiber towels, soft hair ties, and silk pillowcases.

9. Protective Hairstyles before bed.

10. Always oil your ends. I like jojoba oil and you only need a tiny bit. It will add a nice shine and protect your hair.

11. Embrace your natural hair color and texture, avoid bleaching, dying, and relaxing if you can

I could ramble on for hours about hair, but these are definitely some of my basic rules ! I hope this helps you on your long hair journey 💕🧁

[selfishdoll]

KISSIN’ SCARS FT. GETO SUGURU, GOJO SATORU, & NANAMI KENTO ୨୧ ｡ ⟡

⠀ ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 maybe, just maybe in another life— your lovers lived another day with marks to tell the tale.

❛content warning(s)...❜ ━━ jjk spoilers(?) | slightly suggestive themes in gojo’s part. | fluff w/ hints of angst | inaccurate descriptions of scars (please excuse me i’ve never written about them before) | word vomit | lighthearted | pre-established relationship | etc.

❛author’s note..❜ ━━ i (unfortunately) got this idea from fanart & my own demented head. i wanted to write these sadder but i couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing.

GETO SUGURU.

“my love..”

“just let me.” you whispered softly to the man, hands smoothing across his shoulders to lead him back to the bed. the man would smile gently, a sigh even passing his lips as he sat back onto the bed. his eyes carefully watched you rise up on your knees, shivering the moment your lips brushed the scar running across his forehead.

his hand rose, gripping your wrist; the two of you twisting your hands to affectively link fingers. a breathy sigh escaped him as your lips lined up with the prominent mark, eyes pinched closed.

your other hand rose, moving to his hair; fingers curling at the base of his head. you melted the moment you felt suguru lean into your body, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair.

“it’s over [name].. it’s just— geto suguru now.”

you smiled at this, leading your kisses down to the space between his eyes.

“i know.”

GOJO SATORU.

you hadn’t meant to stare— really, you didn’t. but as he stepped outside of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, your eyes were instantly drawn to that scar. you breathed softly, head tilting as your nails dug into the bedsheets underneath you.

obviously satoru noticed you, blue eyes focusing on you as a smile stretched across his features. “i just took a shower..” he alluded, watching your pretty gaze flick to his face. he approached you, glancing down at your spot upon the bed. when your hands rose he expected you to do something dirty; the thought solidified the moment he saw you moving closer.

instead, your hands rested upon his hips, lips brushing the long mark just below his belly button. satoru sucked in a breath, hand falling to your face and cupping a cheek— lifting you away from his abdomen.

“[name]—“ he said gently, eyelashes fluttering the moment you leaned into his palm; where more scars were littered.

you moved forward once again, only this time satoru didn’t stop you; watching as you kissed his scar once again. your thumbs brushed his hips, caressing his vline.

a hand soon lifted from his hip, fingers coming to trace the mark. “i’m.. so happy you’re okay.” you murmured softly, lip quivering for a split moment.

you warmed the moment satoru leaned down, hand gently grabbing your chin to lift your face. his lips pressed against your nose, breathing you in.

“me too,” he spoke sweetly, leaning down to kiss your lips. “— is it inappropriate i’m a little turned on now?”

“satoru, you ruined it.”

NANAMI KENTO.

there were few times nanami allowed you to look at him for too long. he wasn’t necessarily embarrassed about the scars that littered one portion of his face but rather.. he hated you having to see them. see him in such a state. he always questioned why exactly you stayed after the events of shibuya.

you simply didn’t have an answer to that question.

you slowly blinked away sleep, the morning sky peeking between the curtains in your shared bedroom. you slowly turned to face the man whose arm was tight around your form, the sweetest smile stretching your features the moment you took him in.

even with the burn marks.. you still found nanami kento as beautiful as the first day you saw him. as the first time you kissed, and as the first time you made love.

your hand smoothed across his skin, unfazed by the rough texture situated under your palm. you leaned close, pressing a kiss to the space under his eye. the kisses continued, leading from his eye, forehead, chin, and finally his lips.

and to your surprise, the man kissed you back.

your hand faltered to his shoulder, feeling his arm tighten around your waist pulling you even closer to his warm form. the kiss was languid, sweet and ever so gentle.

soon enough the two of you pulled away, your eyes focusing on his gaze; many emotions swirling within his eye.

“good morning, kento.” you broke the silence in a soft whisper, hand rising to brush his face. his eye fluttered closed, lips curling into a smile as his hand rose to cup the back of your hand.

“good morning, [name].”

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[tinycozycomfort]

where you sleep

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day three of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: hand kink -> read her day three here

summary: When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see. 

warnings/tags: pwp!, hand kink, oral sex (m recieving), dom/sub dynamics, masturbation (m), exhibitionism, misuse of underwear/underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), creepy!joel (/dark!joel?)

word count: 1.7k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: gotta give an extra kiss to @pascalisbaby for not only saving this from the delete button more than once but for always being the best person alive!!!

main masterlist

You hear him, first—the end of a damp squelch, the sharp intake that breaks between coupling breaths, on a loop—from your place at the front door. It’s only clear enough to be interpreted as motion, disjointed pieces of noise that make you think he might be struggling, or hurt—so you follow. 

Padding lightly down the hallway in the dim afternoon, a twinge of anxiety leans lamely against your heart with all its dead weight; guilty already, even with no cause. Your chest thrums as it tries to hold up, picturing all of the ways he could have ended up wounded while trying to fix your shower, but when you reach the bathroom, it’s empty. No blood, no horrific scene, just a pile of loose tools and a smattering of fine plaster from where he’d dug around in the wall—yet the sounds persist somewhere further. 

You continue down, not quiet by any means, a little disturbed by his lack of interest in your arrival. He’s in your room, you deduce—the only occupiable space left in the home—coming into view now with the aid of long, heavy steps. Announcing yourself, just in case.  

The door is split open enough to see a long strip of empty space—the corner of your unmade bed, the swirling edge of your dresser, a sliver of mirror posed straighter than usual. 

As you sidle up to the frame, the sounds pitch up—strained hissing and sloppy glide of skin reaching a peak—and so you risk a deeper lean to see what it is he’s gotten himself into; what it is that isn’t worth hiding. 

A weak wash of daylight squeezes through the kinks in the blinds, allowing you only the fuzzy edges of what he’s doing. 

Joel sits on the far side of the bed, body angled so that you can see just a little more than profile, hunched roundly over his lap. He’s almost fully dressed—button-up intact right up to the neck, crinkled tops of his jeans still upright on his legs—everywhere except his center. 

He has one hand braced on his stomach, wide and solid and threaded with thick cords of vein, the fabric of his modesty folded up into his thumb. The waistline of his pants is zipped and peeled open at the thigh, the buckle of his belt jolting with faint clinks on every off-beat. A crude frame for the action resting within it.

His cock is slick in his right hand, a band of bright wet flashing between his fingers as he makes rough passes along it, stuttering minutely when he moves down to the base. He fucks the column fervently, the hard muscle of his clutched fist sending a push of arousal between the tops of your thighs. 

He touches himself as roughly as he seems able to tolerate—the sinew between his first set of knuckles dipped harshly, peaks white from strain, the tips of the hand on his stomach turning in against his own flesh enough to ripple.

Something pink, unnaturally so, peaks between his fingers every so often, calling you away from your observation of his abdomen. He’s particularly enamored with whatever it is—panting every time it swirls over the head, dulling the sheen of his pull. 

Fabric, you realize, absorbing the slip on his skin. You squint, assessing the texture of the material as it darkens with each stroke. Lace fabric; scallop-edged lace fabric that looks starkly familiar to what had been discarded in a shallow grave on top of your too-full hamper the night before. 

He shoves into the cloth, webbing it around the points of his fingers like a pocket, canting his hips off the bed to slot into it and he huffs in frustration when he manages to miss a few times, stunted. 

You glance up to see he’s maneuvering himself blindly; despite his intricate goal he looks straight ahead, eyes still open from what you can make out, concentration elsewhere as he fumbles against the make-shift cunt. 

You track his focus, only half-way across the room when you remember just how much the door had been left open, the crease of the frame very visible in the newly-positioned mirror at your bedside—the intention of it. 

The realization rushes between your ribs like ice-water, little knocks of frozen pellets as they swim between the bones on the way down. The force is so fast you feel like you’re going to keel over—not assisted by the way your knees already feel tight from the strain of keeping yourself motionless. 

You hit the end of the line, his expression wild where he meets you in the reflection, pleased.

“You just gonna watch, sweetheart? That’s all?” 

When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see. 

“Joel—Fuck, I’m… I didn’t mean to-” 

He uses his unoccupied hand to help him rise to his feet, his right not ceasing to work himself as he rounds the edge of the mattress. You cower, still mostly inaccessible behind the wood, so he reacts accordingly—slows, tames his grin, knits the inner corners of his brow to look disarming. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You caught me in a bit of a bind here, honey,” he pumps lazily, head bowing to direct your attention as if you would need the assistance, “No big deal. Wouldn’t hurt if you offered to help—might as well work for the show.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, afraid to pierce the illusion, the dream in front of you a few words from melting away, and he pouts something disappointed.

“Don’t need to invite you into your own room, do I?”

“Joel,” you try again, weak. 

“Heard you the first time—didn’t mean to. We’re past that. I forgive you. Now c’mon, come take a closer look—like I know you want to.”

Hesitantly, you hook an ankle around the edge of the door, willing yourself forward. Joel nods encouragingly before cutting the distance with his own wide steps. 

He uses his clean hand to cup the swell of your cheek, thumb twisting to dig into the fullest part, the pads against your neck pressing down like a suggestion, and you fold without question, tucking a knee beneath you to guide yourself to the floor. 

Joel releases you, draping the curve of his shirt up into his palm again to reveal what had been only momentarily concealed beneath it. Even so, your eyes stay fixed on the spread of his fingers against his belly, right past the place where his cock hangs between his legs. 

“Didn’t seem to have a problem looking when you thought I didn't know. Don't be shy.” His words are encouraging but his tone is laced with annoyance, frustrated maybe that you aren’t responding with the enthusiasm he wants.

He resumes playing with himself, the stretch of lace in his clutch not enough to claim your favor—the way his nails pierce his stomach far more intriguing. 

He seems to understand, trailing his palm up to his chest, still holding the hem, a smile curling on his lips when you follow the movement. 

“Oh, that’s what you like?” 

He releases his length, letting the lace slot between the crease of his thumb like a bracelet. “You want me to touch you with these, sweetheart?” He waves the wet hand lewdly before offering it to you, “Want me to put them in your mouth?” 

You nod, and he lets the rough tips of his pointer and middle tap on the center of your bottom lip, watching shamelessly as you open up for him on instinct. 

“Look at that. I think we can figure out something here that works out for both of us, hm?” 

He doesn’t bother letting you answer, lining the row of his longer fingers outward against your lower lip, his thumb braced against the upper. You stick your tongue out, curling it around his first finger to try and coax him inside but he has another idea. He spreads his legs, settling his weight before leaning to feed the tip of his cock through the channel he’s created with his hand, breaching the open space of your mouth. 

You take him enthusiastically and he makes a choked sound, the plane of his chest pushing out hard between firm breaths, a stripe of pink crawling up his neck and across his face. He’s ruffled, composure broken, his own mouth agape in veiled mockery.

“There you go. So pretty. You wouldn’t say no if I asked you to come down your throat, would you?” 

You do your best to shake your head, working him deeper, the row of your bottom teeth secure under the line of his pointer.

He shudders, the nail of his thumb pushing you open wider as he slides in as far as he can manage at this angle, with so much already occupying the inside of your face. 

“That’s right, honey. Good girl for me, aren’t you? Walked right into my little gift, eager. Let’s reward you, hm?” 

You hum in response, lost to anything other than the brush of his hand against your chin when he thrusts too quickly, the drag of the inside of his knuckles against your tongue. 

“Fuck. You like it, too. Should’ve come by sooner.” 

Pressure builds in the pit of your stomach, hot and rolling as where it falls over into the cradle of your core. You rub your legs together in an attempt to relieve it and he whines, bucking up quicker into the hollow of your cheeks, the fabric of your forgotten underwear slipping in with the rest of his mess on a jostled punch. 

Joel starts to unwind, heaving in hard gulps and elbow craning out in a jagged, rhythmic sway. He unhinges his jaw like he wants to say more but you bend, taking more of him than you should be able to, the soft wedge of his head prodding your throat and he grunts, rounding out his spine as he comes as far down as he promised to. 

You puff up your cheeks around him, an almost-smile, swallowing as much as you can before pulling off of him with a gentle pop, your own palm sliding up to take hold of his forearm. He lets you, deflated from his orgasm, and you run your tongue over what you couldn’t catch on his skin. 

“Should’ve known,” he chuckles, peering down at you between soaked lashes before assisting, sliding two fingers into your parted lips, “Let’s find out what else you like.”

[goldie-s4]

Blissplash ( + Free Gift )

Details + Download links under the cut.

Bathroom set.

32 New objects.

Contains: ( 4 Sinks - 2 Tubs - 4 wall panels with LED lights - 2 end tables - 5 shower glass panels - A shower - 2 shower deco water - A shower seat - A pendant light - A mirror - A stool seat - Marble trims - Marble walls - Marble floors, and others ).

All Tested in game and Base game compatible (except for the LED light files they require Spa Day to work).

HQ Textures with custom normal and specular maps.

Custom Thumbnails

You can find the objects in game by typing (Goldie) or (Blissplash) in search.

Full set + Free Gift (direct - no ads).

More Images:

[angel-of-the-moons]

I haven’t stopped thinking about that Hobie baby fever fic ever since you posted it. Many thoughts. Many thoughts many many thoughts and ideas many many little ideas.

You have people saying ‘Oh good luck lol kids are SO hard!’ ‘He’s definitely gonna regret it you’re gonna be a single parent’. But Hobie’s probably been WISHING from a young age he could be a parent, the only thing he didn’t prep for is your little one grabbing his wicks and him nervously calling out “Luv, luv help me LUV-”. He learnt very quickly to tie his hair back when he’s holding them. If you have a little girl, everyone always thinks it’s you who’s done her hair for the day or for school. NOPE. Hobie’s been with her in the bathroom since 6 in the morning putting her in braids and buns. Your baby is his whole world and he’ll be DAMNED if he won’t be the absolute best dad EVER ‼️

Oh my godddddddddd my ovaries went 💥💥

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet Pt. 2

Dad!Hobie x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: A lil angst at the start, Fluff. So much fluff.

A/N: I'm basing all my baby prep off of the things I had to do for my nephew. I am unsure the proper care that goes into textured hair but I hope I can do it justice!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

You remember what people told you, how "someone like him" wouldn't be able to handle being a dad, how he'd leave you. The words said by your mother hurt the worst, the things she said about Hobie. Your father was no better, especially when they found out you two agreed to get pregnant before anything else.

Especially after you put the positive pregnancy tests, the test results from blood work with your doctor, and some baby booties on the table as a surprise.

It was supposed to go like you imagined, right? Happy jubilant crying, hugs, congratulations...

You got the exact opposite, with your parents criticizing everything about your boyfriend, the father of your unborn baby. The man you loved.

"What kind of father would he be? A bad one, just look at how he's dressed! You think he can help dress your child?" Your mother scoffed. "And those awful piercings! I bet your baby will be running around with holes in their face by the time they're six!"

"And what about a job? You can't be the only one to support your family. He's a man, he needs to step up and quit it with that "punk lifestyle". It's not suitable to raise my grandchild in!" Your father grunted.

After your baby was born, you cut them off and had a courthouse wedding, and a little get-together with his friends from the Spider Society. A mix of a reception and baby shower.

Joke's on them! Hobie was an amazing father, and an amazing husband. The moment he found out you two were having a little girl?

Pink. And. Purple. Her style would be all punkish of course.

He got stuffed instruments that crinkled for when she would teethe, some guitar-shaped rattles...

And he would never admit it, but Hobie actually cried, when he got to hold your baby girl for the first time. You guys named her Selena. Selena Brown.

She came out angry, wailing, as if she was pissed off at the world she had only been in for a few moments.

"Already got the spirit! Make a big noise, a big statement. That's my girl!" Hobie laughed, playing with her tiny feet.

After that, Hobie was very attentive. From you working from home, he would help. He'd fetch the breast pump when you needed it, would prep the bottles, and keep Selena occupied while you worked. He would even take the late shifts at night to make sure you got your rest.

As Selena got bigger, her hair became a bit unruly, and at times you had no idea what to do with it. Hobie? He came in clutch. The proper ties, hair masks, grease (if needed), oils, brushes...

The trick was getting the rambunctious one year old to hold still while her father attempted to tame the poofy mass.

It was one day, you got up from your computer only to hear Hobie shout your name.

"Babe! Babe!" He cried out, grunting.

Of course, you made a dash for the living room, only to see your husband with your toddler. Apparently she had moved behind him, her hands clinging to his shirt to help keep her balanced as she bounced on her little chubby feet.

Her big brown eyes gleamed as she giggled, her bottom teeth poking out in the most adorable way.

Well... it wasn't from where Hobie sat.

Selena's little fist had a tight hold over one of his wicks, tugging his head back sharp.

"A lil' help, luv?!" He winced, hissing at you as you covered your face to try and keep from laughing.

"Come on, Bug, give daddy's poor head a rest. He's got enough problems with that mess he calls hair." You tease, scooping up your little girl.

But... even though her grip loosened, Hobie's wick stayed attached to her hand.

"Oh... ohhhhh..." You said, clicking your tongue.

"What! What!" Hobie groaned, trying to tug his head free.

"You made me have a spider baby."

[teaboot]

Ok hi I just saw your last post about lube and I have a follow up question that I have tried to get answered by the internet but results are inconclusive

I like to use a silicone toy in the shower. Water based lube washes away IMMEDIATELY. I’ve heard pretty unanimously that you can’t use silicone lube on silicone toys. And now I hear you can’t use oil on silicone either! Which is really unfortunate as i recently bought oil based lube (coconut oil specifically)

Is there any kind of lube it’s ok to use on silicone that won’t get washed away by water?

Thank you so much for fielding questions like this :3

Hoo, boy. That's a difficult one.

Water-based lubes wash away so fast because the non-water ingredients are specifically designed to bind to water- it becomes dilited and washes away.

Silicone and oil ARE better in water for this reason, but you're right, they are bad for materials like silicone, jelly and plastic.

What I'd normally recommend here are three options you have available:

1. Top recommendation: Try a hybrid silicone/water lube that has some of the properties of silicone, but not enough to damage the toy before you can wash it off. The key here is to minimize strength and exposure- just make sure to wash it off as soon as you can so it's not on there too long. Ideally with a liquid soap, like dish soap.

2. Use a condom to cover the toy. There's no risk to you if it breaks, and if it does you can, again, just wash it with liquid soap as soon as you can.

3. Use the oil or silicone lube that you have, and just be certain to wash it thoroughly and quickly afterwards with soap. This is obviously not ideal, and will start to cause damage over time, but if you keep an eye on the surface of the material for any change in color, texture, odour, breakage, or tackiness, you can always replace it once it's no longer fit to use. The downside is that sometimes the best toy you get can be discontinued, but... better to have loved and lost, I suppose?

Those are the usual options I recommend, but if anyone knows or has tried anything for this that works better, please do add on! Always looking to learn.

Thanks for the ask! ♡