A R T .

Girls won't even be dating and then have the most dramatic break up

mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi mean vi—

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

psychotic episode, all the feelings at once, if youre mentally stable youre in for a ride of how it feels to have every mental instability at once, but youre watching arcane so then again. you will be in pain of how much youre smiling one moment and how much it hurts the next, sadomasochistic in a bad way, these women are so fine i cant focus on ANYTHING i need to be strapped down lesbian style, i can take them all not in a fight, instead of putting jinx and cait against each other why dont they kiss. these lesbians man, if therapy was a thing accessible to Zaunites this show wouldn’t of existed, Caitlyn Kiramman is my Regina George and by that i mean as much as i hate her i still want her to like me, shes so i fine i need her (aimed at half the women atp), Caitlyn whata bitch leaving your girl like that….. can you be mean to me next he- *gets shot in the face*

thoughts on arcane pls?

as someone with stretch marks on my thighs i can hear the gods singing to me

YOU REALLY, REALLY KNOW ME

i never liked my crooked teeth.

you tell me their your favorite thing... anything else?...

billie couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from you, and it went the same way for yourself. your eyes trained on hers, lips only inches away from her own, plump, red ones, bodies so close together it was like you two were a whole.

"what's wrong?" she speaks softly, her voice so quiet, almost like if she spoke even a little louder, the ceiling would cave in and trap you together. not that you would mind being stuck with her for an eternity.

the frown on your face isn't exactly unnoticeable, but it definitely wouldn't be noticed by anyone who had taken a quick glance at you. but, billie... she always knew whenever you were feeling down, "nothin'."

"then why do y'keep biting your lip, huh?"

fuck. she knew those little details. she knew every little detail of your life and your personality and almost everything about you. your eyes wander, hesitantly moving away from her face and looking down at the bed sheets.

they were still wrinkled from your... previous activities. it was a long night, and when you came home, billie saw those tired eyes of yours. she wanted nothing more than to take care of you, and she wouldn't hesitate to take you again if you needed it.

"jus'..." you sigh quietly, harshly biting down on your lip again. billie quickly moved a hand to cup your face, her thumb running along your bottom lip to tug it from between your teeth, "no more, mama, ts' gonna start to bleed."

her eyes were still focused on yours, her hand moving your head up to look directly into her eyes. you were safe with her, and she wanted you to know that. always.

your voice is shaky as you speak, your hand moving to her free one and interfacing your fingers. they fit perfectly in one another's, almost like you were made for her. only her, "marks—the stretch marks.. on my thighs."

"don't feel pretty," you confess, "wanna be pretty f'you, bills. you're so pretty, i—" billie quickly shushes you with a kiss. after a full 30 seconds, she pulls away, the both of you almost completely out of breath. your faces are flushed, saliva connecting your lips.

her eyes dart from one of your eyes to the other, then down to your lips and repeating the action over and over until she finds the words, "you are so unbelievably pretty, Y/N, don't ever tell yourself you aren't." she whispers, squeezing your hand softly in reassurance.

before you can reply, she pushes you off her lap, switching your positions so that you were laying on your back and she was in between your thighs, "these—" kiss, "—just—" kiss, "—make you—" kiss, "—even—" kiss, "—prettier.—" kiss.

she kisses every one of the marks she can reach, her thumbs rubbing circles on your waist. her eyes stay on yours, watching as your lips curve into a smile and tears form in your eyes.

"think you need a 'lil reminder, ts' that right?"

@mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @br4ttyeilish @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @xoluvx @hrtsdollie

im scared what telepathic message ☹️

IM GIGGLING YOU SENT A WHOLE ASK

i’ll start telepathically giving you the ideas, pictures & memes i have in mind

like this

or maybe like this for more accuracy

me: ugh i don't understand what girls find interesting and attractive in those straight toxic romance books. the men are always so abusive and possessive

me, with toxic! sevika/vi/abby/ellie fics:

Hell yeah! I’m a big strawberry fan!!

I was just trying to predict your course or something I dunno. I usually get them spot on!

I was definitely feeling either psychology or art from you hehehe

- 🍓

oh you bet your ass i do art, alright!!

i cant imagine living in a world that isn’t consumed by creativity, it wouldn’t be me if not for art in every form

have you tried being delusional

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.

- B.E.

AnoTHA ONE☝️ blurb leave me alone | again no use of names, just variations of “she” and “you”

A/n: did i get sad? Yes. Did i decide to make something out of it? Also yes. Is this projecting? Maybe.(Yes.) || I projected my tendency to literally run from home when i get too upset because i need to relieve my angrers energy into something thats not entirely destructive FHFEJJKS

i don’t know if this can be categorised as angst/comfort ?? But!!1!1!! (Its surrounded by comfort but whats comfort without the need for it)

Summary: You and Billie have been together long enough for her to see your vulnerable side, it didn’t take long to but it did take a lot of strength to. And this happens to be one of those times where you need nothing more in the world than to go home!

——･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─: *.☽ .* :─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.——

A blurry road ahead, a big blob of blended colours and shapes danced to the sound of irregular nose-huffs. Forehead sweaty and a hefty backpack bouncing on your back.

You’ve gone this path countless times, by now you can go there blind. Your body remembers all the turns and miles. Like your body needs to reach the destination.

You hadn’t realised just how tiring running this whole thing was until she came in the view - until you saw that short, long haired woman standing right outside, waiting for you, the woman that always knows what you need.

Strict hard nose breaths soon turn into open mouthed pants, bouncing bag thrown to the ground somewhere, anywhere off you, and you finally let your rivers flow.

A melody of countless “i’m sorry”’s spilling out your mouth as soon as your body comes in touch with hers, pairs of hands holding the other body like their own lives depend on it, mutual emotion being held and shared in and through both bodies.

She’s seen you this way a number of times, she has not once thrown a rejection at your vulnerable emotions needs, but thats not enough for your overworking mind.

The lock of arms around your waist and up your back giving you a squeeze, shushing hushing noises coming to caress your ears - “shh its okay angel, its okay. I’m here with you, i am here for you.” - caring the same like a mother would to her child, or maybe a person who’s not quite full when their sweetheart isn’t.

Words that go in through your ears, and circulate along your insides as if made to soothe you whole, whats a painkiller better than love?

“I’m sorry.” you sighed with the loss of a last deep breath. Composing yourself to pull away, managing to turn your head to face her, face red like a tomato and makeup running all along.

“Its okay,” she gave a small chuckle looking back at you, an affectionate hand reaching out to hold your face. “I know.” A voice just above a whisper.

For a moment while you look into her eyes, you think you can almost feel them. Like your burning teary face can feel the breeze and like the darkening evening sky suddenly shines all its stars above her.

While you’re focused on her eyes you lose track of everything else - like the fact that your breathing is now calm, your shaking hands have turned gentle. She noticed those though, taking your hand in one of hers and your backpack in her other.

“So what do you wanna do?” ..

“Im feeling a movie”

“So movie night it is!”

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　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

I LITERALLY DRESS LIKE WEDNESDAY ON THE DAILY PLEASE LET ME BE THE WEDNESDAY TO YOUR ENID

don’t be shy dm me outside of anon…. i promise i don’t bite………