#DMIS

[thunderaxel]

[kirikayy]

[count-goose]

In honor of the DHMIS website getting launched!!!!

[desecratedclergy]

{wip} I spent way too long trying to find any vintage romance novels with pretty covers about priests giving into the carnal desires of their seductive patrons, but apparently this is just too niche (who would have thought that the 'religious romance' genre would actually be like. moral). So I whipped up this sketch just to see what it could look like. I might have to finish this because it's been a lot of fun so far

[sugdendingle]

Danny on Off Script (Kelvin and his wife Liz's podcast about Corrie and Emmerdale)

these are the outfits Danny was talking about btw:

(source)

[vytels]

Hi everyone, I wrote something for the Mech AU based off of this post. (Pssst @keferon some angst for your au?? Which I just have to say I’m devouring every morsel of at a concerning rate)

please forgive any spelling mistakes, I wrote this in a rush

<——>

Drift Medical Implant or DMI

The DMI is a medical device that sits between the brain and skull. The size of the DMI is roughly a cubic centimeter and placed against the inside of the occipital bone, adjacent to the Drift-Neural Link Site (otherwise known as DNeLS) when a helmet is worn. This allows the DMI to connect directly to the DNeLS through the skull of the pilot.

The three major functions of the DMI are as followed:

1. Increased Drift Compatibility between pilots with the and their mecha

2. Injection site for Drift Medical Networks (otherwise known as DMeN)

3. Physical protect from surges through the DNeLS

All pilots have been required to have a DMI since the creation of Mecha 7. Various versions have been created over the years, each more advanced than the last. The DMI varies depending on the nation of origin and biomedical makeup of the pilot, but all have the same three functions and must be approved by a Chief Medical Officer before being implemented…(read on).

<——>

Everything is fine, but it wasn’t.

As Roddy gazes down upon his hands, he imagines— no remembers— them flexing out of his control and reaching forward across the controls of his mech. How cool organized breath flooded his mind, sparking at the back of his head, at the back of his helmet, before whipping across his consciousness and strangling the edges. Electronic, cold, lifeless, and so unlike anything he’d ever felt before, as it ripped him away from his body and shunned him into a corner.

He’d been a passenger in his own body, thrown onto some kind of fucked up roller coaster with no end in sight. Arms moved without his commands, but he could feel the phantom touch, the sharp brush of controls through his gloves, he could feel his heart beating. He couldn’t look away as his body moved, as it commanded his mech, as destruction sprang in its wake.

Every second was displayed to him, like a sick and twisted dream.

Even when the cockpit of his mech opened, when his body stood from its seat and stepped out into the inferno it created. A harsh determination filling his tongue, fury like no other, but Roddy knew it wasn’t his own.

“You understand, Ratchet,” He’d said, his voice sounding nothing like his own, “I’m doing this for him.”

And he’d seen the horror in the medic’s eyes as the words bounced across the room, as they seared into the scene. That very moment haunts him, digs its teeth into his mind as fear sits upon his tongue to spill guilt down his throat. He sees Deadlock’s blood, his energon, spread across the floor as the mech balances on his knees. Servos pressed against a wound in his side, a scorching smear disgracing his helm.

And Ratchet standing between them, between Deadlock and Roddy, between victim and attacker.

Yet… he flexes his hand, curling them around his knees, and they listen. His fingers dig into denim jeans, nails scratching as specks of dirt, and his lungs suck in air. Then he kicks his feet, curling his toes as his teeth bite into his lips. Roddy’s mind jumps hoops, tumbling down a list of commands.

His body listens.

But his anxiety whispers, it didn’t then.

Roddy isn’t stupid, he knows what happened and he knows the facts. Someone had drifted with him and shut his mind away in a small little box, so that they could use his body like a puppet. He had felt their thoughts at the edge of his mind, his body bludgeoned with their rage and pain. And they had wanted Deadlock, they needed him, and…

Someone had drifted with him.

Roddy’s hand shoots up to his head, fingers gliding over his skin before combing through his hair. It searches and searches before it dashes over a bump and doubles back. His nails catch over raised skin, over scar tissues, before they begin to pick and pick and pick. Thoughts reel through his head, contracts and procedures bouncing behind his eyes.

The DMI.

A little box in his head.

A little box he’d been shoved into.

A little box that had let another person drift with him, through his body.

Not just his mech.

Their mind stains his thoughts, running through his nerves and searing through his fingers. Hands reach into his own, become his own, and push him forward. They grasp onto his reality as he falls back and back into the void of space, into the passenger seat, into the box and—

He has to get it out. Now.

Fingers dig and dig, nails scraping and pulling as warm blood seeps against his fingers and trickles down his skull. That warmth dribbles down his neck as he curls fingers, pushing his nails further, tearing at the scar raised on the back of his scalp. His hands and fingers run rampant over his skull as his mind spirals, questions flinging their way through his thoughts as panic clutches at his throat.

Who would do this? Why would they do this? What do they want? What if they make me kill someone? What if they make me—

“Damn it, kid!” A deep voice cuts through his ears as hands grasp onto his wrists, yanking his hands away from his head. His eyes jump open and he realizes he doesn’t remember when he closed them, but they jump to Ratchet’s form immediately and soak in the concern and anger like a sponge.

Ratchet clutches his wrists, eyes narrowed and mouth thrown into a frustrated grimace that Roddy has seen a hundred times. It’s backdropped by bright yellow optics, staring through the darkness of night, with the same amount of concern crushing them. It is not his two friends that catch Roddy’s mind, but the blood dripping from his own hands, his fingers, and spreading over the medic’s pale skin. It rockets him back into his own body, even if he can’t feel the pain.

“I need it out, Ratchet,” Roddy finally gasps, air gulping into his lungs, “They put it in me, they knew, they— I need it out!”

“I know what happened, but you don’t know if the DMI let it happen,” Ratchet grumbles, eyes drifting from the mech pilot’s face to blood soaking into his hair.

Roddy protests immediately, “It did! I know it did!”

Ratchet’s brows narrow, lips falling into a purse and Roddy almost expects the grump to agree until he says, “Let’s get you fixed up.”

His tone squashes any arguments before they could tumble from Roddy’s lips. With the grace of experience and the rush of frustration, the old CMO herds the younger man across his home. Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to ask where the medical kit is again before it’s already in Ratchet’s hands and a stool has been placed before him, Deadlock’s small services.

Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to run or complain.

The giant alien robot leans forward, kneeling with his head ducked toward them and one servo hovering to their side. Concern radiates from him, as clear as day across his face: optics intent on the scene before him, lips creating a concentrated line, optic ridges furrowed. It’s like he wants to pick them both up, hold them close, but knows that he can’t.

Fuck, Roddy thinks, I didn’t mean to make Deadlock nervous.

Then hands rest over the sides of temples and tilt his head, forcing him to look downward as Ratchet peers at the back of his head. It’s gentle, warm.

More gentle than the perpetrator had been when they entered his mind.

“You do realize you wouldn’t have been able to claw through your skull?” Ratchet grumbles and moves, grabbing something from the medkit before turning back. “This was incredibly stupid.”

“I know, I just…” Roddy swears his tongue feels numb. “Need it out.”

Ratchet's voice falls icy. “And killing yourself would have been worth it?”

“If it meant they couldn’t use me to kill you or someone else…” Roddy’s words trail off as a sucked in breath fills the air, loud and revving. Deadlock’s reaction.

“No,” Ratchet sighs, voice softer, “Don’t be so idiotic, you’re not.”

Somehow Ratchet’s disappointment stings more than his anger, but Roddy understands. This isn’t just about what happened, not for the medic, it’s about everything that has ever happened between them. And he knows Ratchet’s views on self-sacrifice already, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.

He feels Ratchet’s fingers against his scalp, the way that they freeze for just a moment and a mental countdown begins in the back of Roddy’s head. Five, six, seven…

“What is the DMI?” Deadlock’s voice finally enters the conversation and relief glides through Roddy as his best friend saves him from Ratchet’s incoming lecture.

Instead the medic sighs, fingers beginning to move again, and he says, “It’s a medical device that pilots have. It’s a brain implant that helps them connect with their mechs and protect them from any surges.”

Deadlock hums, and Roddy knows that hum— the overgrown metal cat is pretending that he understands, before he asks, “Then why do you want it out, Roddy?”

“Because someone had to drift with me to control my body,” Roddy replies as another wave of relief lands on his shoulders. He tries to find Deadlock out of the corner of his eye, careful to not move his head lest Ratchet yell at him again. “It felt like I got shoved into a box and whoever was controlling me could do it easily. The DMI helps me drift, it connects technology to my body. If anything could help the neural link conjoin more than just minds, but also bodies, it has to be the DMI.”

“And how are you supposed to get it out?” Deadlock asks, and Roddy thinks Traitor! because he’s bringing Ratchet back into the conversation in the perfect way for the man to lecture him.

“Medical professionals are supposed to do it,” Ratchet’s voice is heavy, aimed right at Roddy’s being, “It requires a surgery, an incredibly risky medical procedure, that only the utmost qualified can perform. Not trying to rip your own skull open with your bare hands.”

Roddy tries not to grimace.

He definitely deserved that remark.

And he is ready for more when Ratchet sighs, only for the medic to ask, “Deadlock, can you…?”

“Of course,” Deadlock practically purrs back to Ratchet before gears turn and metal sings: the telltale sign of a transformation. The Cybertronian sits in his alt-mode now, engine revving before the passenger’s side and driver’s side doors swing open.

For a moment Roddy wonders if he’s third-wheeling for some weird date-thing between Deadlock and Ratchet, but the idea races from his head as Ratchet finally lets go of his head and steps away.

There’s still blood on his hands, Roddy’s blood, and he can only imagine how much blood has dried to his neck and hair. Head wounds bleed so much.

“Go get cleaned up,” Ratchet orders him, “We’re going for a drive.”

That’s enough to get Roddy off the stool, back to his feet, and scrambling across the room. He barely registers Ratchet’s call of, “Don’t pull my damn stitches!” As he careens into the bathroom to wash the blood away. The thought of getting to ride along with Deadlock is too great of a deal to pass up.

And that is exactly where he finds himself a few minutes later, saddled into the passenger seat with his head tilted toward the open window. Happiness jolts from his chest, content and joyous, as they glide through the night. The world passes by in a faint blurr of shadows and light, wind rushing over his face and pushing back his hair. All while Ratchet drives, taking over for the alien car as Deadlock skips through radio channels every few minutes with small huffs of static.

It’s warm and bright, it sinks into the young pilot’s skin and straight into his memories. It reminds him that he isn’t alone, he’ll never be alone, and he can face anything to come. As long as he has his friends by his side.

<——>

Drift Medical Networks is just all the injections and toxins that are given to pilots to make them drift compatible/etc.

Also as I was writing this and remember how much head wounds bleed, I thought Deadlock must have thought that Roddy was going to die with how much blood there was and I just— AHHHHH

[roonilwazlibimagines]

annoying - d.m x female!reader

Blurb: draco will never beat the annoying allegations, because he is annoying, but he is also romantic or the three times draco was annoying but the three times he made it up to her or just like really fluffy draco malfoy stuff

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: I FORGOT TO SAY THAT THIS IS NOT SMUT BUT IT IS VERY SUGGESTIVE AND INVOLVES NUDITY IM SORRY BUT LIKE VERY MUCH 16+

A/N: this started as a list of things i thought draco malfoy would do as a boyfriend but it turned into this and i made them married because they're traditional!! and they would not live together before marriage!! and i wanted them to live together for this!! in hindsight i could have written around it but i wrote this by the pool and it didn't occur to me then!! i will not change it now!!

ps. in my mind this is with potter!daughter but there was no mention of other potters so i didn't force it, but if you would like to read draco x potter!daughter please check this tag or come talk to me about them because i am obsessed with them!

Masterlist

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“I’d say,” she tapped her finger to her lip, noticing the blonde boy hanging on her every word, “annoying,” she said with a confident finality.

“What?” She had to stop the amused expression she would normally wear, trying to convince her astounded husband that she was being serious. “You’re so full of shit.”

She gasped.

“You’re literally proving my point.” He rolled his eyes and manoeuvred his body to grab onto her hips and pull her towards him.

“Take it back.” He was peppering kisses all over her neck making her let out a traitorous giggle. But she refused to deny it.

It had started less than five minutes earlier. It was well past eleven at night and the young, newly wed couple were still in that stage where neither necessarily wanted to sleep, still fascinated with the idea of being married and wondering what differences came with it.

Draco was reading a new book that she had bought because the blurb sounded like something he would like and she was writing something down in her notebook, being extra careful not to get ink in the bed. Again.

When she suddenly put her quill down, a thump eliciting from the force of it landing on the paper, Draco didn’t even finish the sentence he was on before he dogeared the page he was on and put the novel on his lap to look at the pretty girl slouched next to him.

“If you could describe me in one word, what would it be?”

“Beautiful,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. She rolled her eyes, copying his actions with her own notebook and placing it on the bedside table with the quill that managed to keep its ink where it was meant to be.

“You’re flattering me,” she turned her head back towards, “tell me the truth.”

“I am,” he insisted, also placing his book on his side so he could reposition himself to look at her properly. Her pyjamas were hanging loosely over her body and she had various strands falling out of her ponytail framing her face that was ever so slightly starting to puff up due to the late hour. But Draco was telling the truth.

“Alright, well give me another.”

Draco thought about this one for a second, trying to find a word that suited her but would also appease her interest.

She stared up at him as he hummed to himself. His hair was dishevelled and his t-shirt clung onto his biceps in a way that forced her to focus on the words leaving his pretty lips.

“Strong-willed.”

“Interesting,” she hummed, having a feeling that he was trying to say something to get a reaction out of her. Well, a reaction was what he was going to get.

“Well, if I had to describe you in one word,” she paused noticing how he quirked up slightly at that, “I’d say…” and that was how she ended up being trapped by his arms, victim to his kisses and fingertips digging into the flesh on her sides.

“I’m not annoying, love.” He said, finally loosening his grip on her, but when she made no effort to move he kept his arm draped loosely over her hips, keeping her back pushed against his chest.

“Lies,” she basically hissed the word at him leaving him with a cocky smirk that she had to strain her neck to see.

Because he was annoying.

It was literally just this morning that he had annoyed her.

“Draco,” her voice echoed throughout the house and Draco put down his spoon to yell back, “What?”

He was at the dining table, eating a second breakfast, and he swallowed his cereal as he heard her footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Did I leave my lip balm down there?” Her voice was slightly less loud as she made her way to him, confident she had left it on the table when they ate breakfast together. Or, Draco’s first breakfast together.

Draco’s eyes didn’t take long to land on the cylinder, stood up right in front of where his pretty wife had been sitting minutes ago. He quickly snatched it into his hand, securing it in his palm before she appeared in front of him.

“Haven’t seen it,” he mumbled, grabbing his spoon in his free hand to shove more cereal in his mouth, hoping it would prevent him from giving himself away.

“Really?” She asked, making her way over to the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I left it here.” He could hear her moving around various objects and sighing when she gave up and moved to the living room.

“It’s literally just a white cylinder, are you sure you haven’t seen it?” She made her voice louder to reach him from the other room where he could hear her rummaging around the lounge, no doubt seeing if it had fallen into one of the many crevices. Why? He wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been there this morning.

“I know what your lip balm looks like,” he replied moodily. He heard her huff and when he looked back up from his bowl she was standing in front of him. Good to see she could be quiet when she wanted to be.

“You have it.”

“What?” Draco dropped his spoon again, said lip balm burning a hole through his palm.

“You have it.” And within seconds she was directly in front of him. But Draco was quicker and he had risen to his full height, putting his traitorous hand behind him as his chair made a loud scraping noise against their floor.

“Show me your hand.” She moved to grab his hand hiding behind his back but he turned so she couldn’t reach.

“You need to work on your reflexes, babe.”

“You need to stop acting like a child, babe,” she mimicked.

She had her hands folded across her chest, hoping to catch him by surprise when she made to move again.

He was looking down at her with a horrid smirk, her squinted eyes and downward curve of her lips only serving to make it stronger.

“Give it to me,” she whined, suddenly making a move to grab it. Draco had let his guard down ever so slightly, distracted by her pretty face and this time when she went to grab it, her fingers brushed his knuckle.

But Draco needed to make sure she couldn’t reach it so this time, his arm went above his head and he knew it was the right move when she whined once more, “Draco.” She dragged out the last vowel of his name and made a slight movement that looked like her stamping her foot in the ground in annoyance.

“Why are you like this?”

Draco only shrugged his shoulders, making her huff as she brought her arms around her chest once more.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“I’m not going to beg for it.”

“But you sound so pretty when you do.” She scoffed at him and his stupid smirk and his stupid lanky height that meant there was no way for her to reach it without jumping. And even that would be a stretch.

“Draco Malfoy, I swear-“ but she never finished because he got an awful twinkle in his eye when she said his full name and she wasn’t having it. She took a step towards him and reached to the very tip of her toes to try and grab it.

Her hand only reached his wrist.

“You’re such a child.” She groaned, straining to reach even further. Draco brought his head back slightly to look at her determined face trying to and grab the lip balm, still secure in his palm.

She gave up trying to reach and instead wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tried with all her might to drag it down.

She let out a soft groan that made Draco chuckle.

“Maybe if you’d ask nicely I’d give it to you.”

Draco was sure the devil himself had taken the place of his pretty wife with the dirty look he was on the receiving end of.

“Draco,” she said, dropping her hold on his wrist and taking the tiniest of steps back.

“Yes, my love.”

“Can I please have my lip balm?” Her voice was steady and Draco knew that she was fighting her own mind not to scream and shout until she got her way.

“Well, because you asked so nicely.” He dropped his hand, but still put it behind his back as he lent down to press a soft kiss to her pouting lips.

When he pulled back she was giving him an impatient look, her palm out, waiting for him to give it back to her.

Still smirking, he put it in her hand, quickly pulling his hand away when her fingers wrapped around it and she snatched it away. Huffing as she made her way back up the stairs.

“A thank you would be nice,” Draco yelled out, going back to his soggy cereal and chuckling when a string of profanities floated all the way to his ears.

She was quick to remind him of this incident now that they were in bed and Draco still stood by the fact that he was not annoying.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that was annoying,” he argued, with her back still against his chest. She rolled her eyes, grateful that he couldn’t see.

“I would.”

“I was just teasing,” he insisted and she scoffed. “You know I would’ve given it back to you.”

He was partially right, he did like to tease her, but teasing her was annoying.

It was only that weekend that that had gone to a house party with some friends from high school. Everyone was taking advantage of the summer months, and most of them were sitting outside, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon without the sun blaring down on them.

She had been inside for the last hour or so, trying to avoid any red flesh and catching up with some old friends, but when the noticed the guilty star had left the sky, they started to make their way out.

She noticed immediately that there weren’t going to be enough chairs, so she happily made her way over to Draco and sat on his lap.

He was halfway through a conversation with someone and even though he didn’t explicitly acknowledge her presence, he still manoeuvred his body so she could make herself comfortable. And once she stopped wriggling all over him, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She was happy sitting there, sipping her drink, laughing at whatever her friends said, and enjoying the way the scent of her boyfriend overtook her senses.

Halfway through one of their stories she felt something crawling on her arm and with a quiet groan she twitched in Draco’s lap, flicking the intruder away.

“What’s wrong, lovey?” Draco bent down to whisper in her ear so as not to disrupt the conversation and draw attention to them.

“The bugs are eating me alive,” she huffed, repositioning herself so she was half draped over his lap.

“Can’t blame them,” he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, “you taste so good.”

She gave him an unimpressed look and the edge of his lips quirked up in a familiar smirk before their attentions went back to the conversation.

Every now and then she’d twitch whenever a crawling trespasser appeared on her skin. Each instance followed by a huff and a sigh from the pretty girl resting on Draco’s lap.

Draco was trying his best to defend his girlfriend, removing his hand from her waist to wave it around anytime a bug even dared to look at her and keeping a loose arm around her so she could wriggle and swat away whenever she pleased. But for some reason, the bugs had chosen his pretty girl to annoy tonight, and no one was as in tune with her annoyance as he was.

That’s why he thought what he was about to do was risky. She was already annoyed, but it wasn’t at the hands of him, so he figured he’d do it anyway.

When the conversation had started to die down and people turned to the others around them, starting their own private conversations, Draco turned down to his wife and started a conversation with her.

She was happily chatting away, and Draco was listening intently. He promised. But when she got towards the end of her sentence and took a breath, Draco purposefully furrowed his eyebrows together.

He noticed immediately the increase of diameter of her pretty eyes and the way she froze ever so slightly in his lap.

“What’s that?” He asked, flicking his head up in the direction of her own.

“What’s what?” Her voice had risen an octave and Draco was glad the rest of the group were talking over each other loud enough to drown her out.

“That,” Draco said again, subtly taking his hand away from the valley of her spine. “I think,” he paused and got the desired effect with the look of fright she was giving him, “there’s a,” she was frozen on his lap, “a bug on you.” And as he finished the world’s longest sentence his fingertips found her neck and a tiny squeal left her lips as she contorted her body into his, naive to think she’d find safety with him.

She could feel his whole body shake as he let out a strong laugh, his arms returning around her waist and locking her into his grasp as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I hate you so much.”

Draco could feel her pulse and he almost felt bad for causing her such annoyance, but when she strained her neck to frown at him, a hard crease between her pretty eyes, he couldn’t help the boyish smirk that enveloped his face.

“Liar,” he retorted, not missing the way she clung to him when she thought there was danger.

“I apologised for that,” Draco whined, now in bed. Similarly pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she recalled just how annoying his teasing was.

He did feel bad for it. He didn’t think it would upset her that much. He just wanted to upset her slightly.

“Still annoying,” she grumbled, refusing to look back up at him.

“C’mon,” Draco continued, a tinge of a whine tainting his tone, “you love being teased.”

She rolled her eyes at his poor attempt of a double entendre.

But this time he was telling the truth.

It was only last week when this had occurred.

They had only been married for a couple of months after almost a year of being engaged, but their house was in the works the second Draco proposed to her so they would have somewhere to go when a permanent gold band rested where their fourth finger on their left hand came in contact with the knuckle.

Draco was at her house, going over the plans to ensure she was happy with anything. She was listening. Partly. She trusted Draco.

"Oh," he added as well, knowing that he didn't have her complete attention, "we also have to decide if we want a pool."

"Obviously," she scoffed, knowing by the way that the corner of his mouth tugged upward that he was just trying to get her involved.

Because Draco knew he wanted a pool, and he was glad for it when they woke up to the sun peaking through their window, waking them up and inviting them to join it outside while they played in the pool.

Draco was already in, unbothered by the wait of his pretty wife who took slightly longer to get ready. And the wait was worth it when she came out in a two-piece which Draco really thought was an overstatement considering how little of her was covered.

She swayed her hips on purpose, noticing the slight part in her husband's pretty lips, doing a faux pose when she reached the pool that made Draco clear his throat.

"You look good."

"I know," she beamed at him cheekily, throwing her towel on the chair next to his and tying her hair up in a high bun. "I'm not in the mood to get my hair wet today, I'm too lazy to wash it."

Draco didn't say anything, but she didn't give it a second thought knowing that his eyes were preoccupied.

Draco floated over to the stairs as she made her way in, letting out a little squeal as her feet touched the first step.

"It's so cold!"

"You can't be serious." Draco let out a small chuckle as she placed her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm very serious, Draco," she whined, finding the courage to go to the next step.

It was up to her calves, and she was going against the water as she kicked her legs out, trying to acclimatise to the new temperature.

Draco, already knowing he consequences of his actions, placed his hands in the water and flicked it over at her.

"Draco!" She had put her hands out in a poor attempt to save herself from his attack and bent a leg up towards herself in some sort of defence.

He laughed.

"Stop being such a baby." She gave him a pout that very much reminded him of a baby.

But she took no note of her husband’s rude comments and instead put her hands in the water to splash him back. 

“C’mon, yours was much bigger than mine.” Draco rolled his eyes, running a hand through his now wet hair and putting his hands back in the water. 

“Draco Malfoy if you dare-”

She was already folding in on herself, but she never felt the splash or got to finish her statement because Draco had cut her off. 

“C’mon darling, I promise I won’t splash you if you just get in.” 

She put her hands down slowly, not sure how much she should trust the blonde haired boy giving her a sly grin. 

“I don’t trust you,” she said, her actions betraying her words as she took another step down. It reached just above her bottom piece and Draco heard her take a sharp breath in as a couple of goosebumps erupted on her lotioned skin. 

One more step to go.

“I promise I won’t splash you.” He had an odd look of sincerity on his face, but she made sure to keep eye contact with him as she placed her hands in the water and brought them to the tops of her shoulders in an attempt to let her body become familiar with the cool liquid.

She went to the next step. She took in a shaky breath, moving on the spot in a hurried motion to try to bring some warmth to her body. 

“One more step, love, c’mon.” Draco opened his arms in an attempt to get her into his embrace. 

“I swear, Draco, if you splash me,” she trailed off, letting her foot fall off the last step and pushing her body towards his arms. 

He grabbed onto her, his hands roaming around her hips as he bent his head down to press a kiss to her pretty lips. 

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away with a slight breathlessness, “you’ll what?” He lent back to kiss her, unashamed, he knew he was in trouble the second he saw her enter the backyard in her little bikini that didn’t leave a lot to his imagination. 

“I-I’ll,” she forced herself to pull away even though she wanted nothing more than to kiss her pretty husband until their skin shrivelled from the water. But Draco had other plans, because when she was looking at him, a soft look in her eyes from the way he had kissed her, he decided this was the perfect time.

His fingers locked around her waist and the last thing he saw was her pretty eyes widen as he pulled her under the water with him.

He knew he’d never hear the end of it the second he brought them to the surface and she let out a couple of dramatic coughs.

“Are you trying to kill me?” She shrieked, blinking the water out of her eyes and pushing his shoulders ever so slightly with the butt of her palm. His arms were still locked around her waist and he had no intention of letting go.

All he did was laugh in response, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes and leaning down to pepper kisses all over her slimey face. All he could taste was her sunscreen and she kept twisting in his grasp and trying to pull her face away from him, but he continued his attack bravely.

“Hey,” he said, letting out a chuckle despite the grumpy look on her pretty face, “I only promised not to splash you.”

She wanted to scream. Instead, she splashed him back.

“Well, I never promised not to splash you.” She said indignantly in a way that reminded Draco of a child.

“Ah,” he said, much too arrogantly for her taste, “is that how you want to play?” He removed his hands around her waist to splash at her, but even though she knew what was coming, she didn’t step away from him.

“Nuh uh,” she whined, turning her head to avoid the water coming into contact with her face, “you promised you wouldn’t splash me.”

“Well, I take it back.” It was then she decided that she hated Draco’s height. She used to admire it, loved how he towered over almost anyone in any room. But now, she came to realise that his arms were much too long, because before she even got the chance to splash him back he had reached out and grabbed onto her hips, pulling her closer to him and bringing her with him under the water once more.

This time she gave him a good shove on the shoulder while they were under the water, but she wondered if Draco even noticed with the way his hands were squeezing her hips and grabbing at her flesh.

It was only when he brought them to the surface that she realised he was trying to find the string keeping her bikini bottom up and once again, she cursed his long fingers for quickly untying the double knot.

“Draco!” Her hands left his shoulders to grab onto her swimmers before Draco got any other ideas, but Draco was quick and in one swift movement he grabbed both of her hands in his.

She wriggled against him, but movement only made the swimmers pull away from her skin so instead she gave him a defeated look.

He was laughing manically, his chest rumbling at her predicament and the pretty pout that was gracing her pretty lips.

In another swift movement he turned her around so her back was against his chest and her hands were still locked up in Draco’s large hand jail, but the movement was not her friend because with his other free hand, Draco had grabbed the traitorous bottom and thrown it out of the pool, quick to bring it to the front and give her top the same treatment.

He was taking his time, kissing all over her neck, trying to get her to succumb to his pleasures, but she was strong-willed and it was only the way her voice gave a slight tremble at the end of her sentence that gave her away.

“You’re so annoying.”

Draco was now kissing her neck in a similar fashion, but she wasn’t going to give in.

“Thought you liked it then?” He teased, his voice low from the late hour and soft due to their proximity.

“I mean it was alright.” Draco could tell by the slight quiver of her voice and lack of comeback that his little neck kisses were getting to her.

“Do you want to try another word, darling?”

But while the kisses may have softened her, she was still able to respond with, “romantic.”

Because he was.

The only reason she was looking for her lip balm was because he was taking her out for lunch.

And when she came down, all dressed up for him, she twirled on the spot, loving the soft look in his eyes compared to the mischievous twinkle he had worn trying to get a reaction out of her.

They were sitting across from each other and when she rested her hand on the table, Draco took it in his own and neither arm was strong enough to move from its position.

While they waited for the server to come over, she used her free hand to rifle through her bag and when she found the desired lipstick and started putting it on, Draco squinted his eyes at her.

“What?”

“I want to ask you a question.” She gave a seconds pause before putting her lipstick away and facing her pretty husband.

“I’m scared.”

He disregarded her comment and asked, “what’s in your bag?”

“My bag?” She gave him a confused look, losing the warmth of his palm as she grabbed her bag for a second time. The very expensive bag Draco had bought for her only a month or so ago because she had made a trivial comment about how pretty it was when they first walked past it.

She opened it and showed it to him, he was her husband, she had nothing to hide.

Draco liked what he saw. Lipstick, a little mirror, the perfume she usually wore in a small cylindrical glass, and the lip balm he had teased her about this morning.

“What if I forgot the card at home?” he chuckled, his smile only intensifying at the confused look on his pretty girl’s face.

“The credit card?”

“What other card, darling?” The smirk on his face told her he was telling a fib, but she still asked, “did you?”

She never got her response though as the server politely interrupted the conversation, causing her to close her bag back up and listen to Draco repeat what she had told him she wanted from the menu.

The fact that he was ordering told her all she needed to know about the card situation, but she still continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption.

“In all honesty, I stopped bringing money with me after, like, our second month of going out.”

This made Draco let out a laugh that was an inappropriate volume given their surroundings, but the couple didn’t notice.

When Draco calmed down, he put his hand back on the table and she reached out to hold onto it.

“Good,” he said, bringing their intertwined hands towards him to press a row of soft kisses along her knuckles.

When he had frightened her over the bug situation, he kissed and doted on her the rest of the afternoon, feeling bad that he had upset her so greatly.

When her cup was empty he placed her on his seat and went inside to fill it back up for her. Lifting her back onto his lap when he returned.

When they arrived home he had her silk robe waiting for her the second her foot stepped out of the shower and he happily had her sit on the edge of the bathtub as he completed her skincare.

“You know,” she said, giving him the saddest look she could muster, “I was so scared when you pretended there was a bug on me, it really tired me out, I don’t think I can do my skincare.” He let out a large scoff, even though she was still frowning, giving him a faux innocent look with her silk robe wrapped tightly around her.

“C’mere,” he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub but reached out to grab her fingertips, bringing her closer to him so he could sit her on the edge next to him, “you big baby.”

And even after he played with her pretty hair until she fell asleep, he still felt bad. He let out a sigh as he begrudgingly got out of the comfortable bed and once he was outside of their room he called for the house elf and instructed him to get a bunch of her favourite flowers before they woke up.

Draco found that he fell asleep quite easily after he had settled that matter and his arms were wrapped around the waist of his pretty wife.

But he was disgruntled when he woke up hours later to find said pretty wife sitting on the edge of the bed, a small white card in her hand that he assumed belonged to the bunch of her favourite flowers that the house elf had delivered.

He lazily trailed his fingertips down her spine, enjoying the way she jolted at his touch.

“Come back to bed, lovey.” When she put the card down and turned around she found Draco’s arm sprawled out to the side from where he had let it linger on her skin. His eyes were still closed and his hair was sticking on his forehead.

She leant over to smooth it away from his pretty face and when he brought his arm back up she gingerly found her way back to him, his arm coming back down the second he was satisfied she was comfortable.

And it was after they christened the pool that she started to whine about her wet hair.

“I told you I didn’t want to wash it.” Draco wished he had a couple more minutes before her attitude came back, but was quick to remember he was the reason she was in a mood and so he kept that thought to himself.

She was behind him while Draco swam to the edge to receive the two pieces he had meanly thrown out of reach.

“I’m not getting them,” she had scoffed at his reply when she said she needed her swimmers back to which Draco pointed to the edge of the pool where they were sprawled haphazardly. “I’m naked,” she whispered as if it was a sin worse than what had just occurred in their own swimming pool.

“I’ll wash it for you,” he grumbled throwing her swimmers at her. She wasn’t quick enough to grab them so they floated on the surface of the water. She picked up the bottoms and started tying the knots in the appropriate places.

“Really?” She asked, Draco already swimming back to her, picking her top up and redoing the knots he had cruelly untied moments before.

“Of course my love.”

And that was how she found herself sitting in between his legs, warm water filling their bathtub with rose petals tickling her calves and the smoke of a coconut candle making its way into her nose.

She let out a hum as Draco’s fingertips circled her scalp. She let her head fall back so she could look up at him and he was quick to place a quick kiss on her forehead before gently pushing her head up so he could continue his service.

“You spoil me.” Draco liked when she whined and pouted and screeched whenever he found a new way to annoy her, but more than anything he loved the content in her tone knowing that he would always look after her. No matter how much he annoyed her.

“Romantic sounds better,” Draco hummed, leaning down to press some more kisses along her jaw.

But she was brave and she pulled away so she could turn around and face her lovely husband.

She ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in a way that brought a grin to what Draco thought was her precious face.

How lucky she was, really, to have such a beautiful husband. Who, despite his teasing, made sure that she was treated like royalty. Who would never let her worry about a single thing if he had his way and who made sure she knew he loved her, even if he liked to annoy her. Who called her beautiful even when she called him annoying.

“And handsome,” she whispered, bringing her hand to his soft cheek, not missing the way he leaned into her touch, “so handsome.”

[lueurichor]

Here he is! 🩵🌊 I'm so excited about this one, honestly, it took a bit more time than the others, for various reasons, an I'm so happy to finally be able to give it to you guys!

Some of these are definitely my favorite insta-post-graphics I've done so far on here, so I hope you enjoy them aswell. The reason I decided to do Julian before Ash is pretty obvious, I've talked about it before on my vote-post (difficulty finding pictures etc.). Also, I already had a half-finished Julian-draft on my Canva (from a few weeks/months ago, yikes), which made things a lot easier.

Note: I'll be getting less active in the next few weeks again. School has started and I have a big English-Project/Presentation coming up, which is already causing me anxiety (yay) so I'll be really busy. BUT there's only three more weeks until my next holidays (thanks to the swiss-holiday-system i guess?) and I'll defnitely try to come up with a logical schedule for posting until then!

[reddevilmcnt]

@virtueofsanityx. [ ADJUST ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap in order to fix their collar or tie or other item of clothing.

The charity event was an overly embellished spectacle, the kind of gathering Dmitri didn’t usually gravitate toward. A room brimming with Hollywood elites, multimillion-dollar athletes, and socialites who thrived on curated perfection, it practically pulsed with forced laughter and too-enthusiastic chatter. Dmitri wasn’t shy, far fucking from it. In fact, his presence alone could make heads turn and conversations falter, but these events weren’t entirely his comfort zone. He preferred the more lowkey haunts that he was used to, as opposed to the choreographed social dances of the rich and famous. However, tonight, he’d made an exception, stepping into a world that felt foreign, only because the cause mattered. And, like it or not, Dmitri belonged here.

He commanded attention effortlessly, powerful frame sculpting a tailored Hugo Boss suit as though it had been made for no one else. The fabric clung to him in all the right ways, smoothing over broad shoulders and a chest built from years of brutal training, tapering down to a trim waist. His thighs, heavy and thick, tested the limits of the sleek black trousers, and the subtle shift of his muscles beneath the fabric as he moved hinted at the strength coiled underneath his polished exterior. The suit was absolutely flawless, crisp, clean lines, with an understated sophistication... but it was Dmitri who made it look otherworldly. He radiated a sheer physical force and sensuality, this dark magnetism that made people stop mid-sentence when he walked by. His cologne was rich and heady, a hypnotic blend of amber, leather, and spice that seemed to linger just long enough to mesmerize. His beautifully trimmed beard framed his chiseled jaw, and his skin had a velvet deep richness that seemed to glow under the event’s ambient lighting.

Even among the crowd of beautiful people, Dmitri stood out like a King among princes. There was something untamed about him------- an unspoken and yet simultaneously glaring reminder that no matter how well-dressed he was, he was still a brawler, a man who dominated not just the octagon but any room he entered.

And he hadn’t come alone. Reggie was by his side, his best friend and, if the tabloids were to be believed, something far more. Dmitri hadn’t hesitated to invite him, despite the subtle pang of uncertainty he felt. ...Their relationship had been in this strange limbo lately, a careful dance around hushed words, smothered down emotions, and Dmitri didn’t want to let that distance grow. Thankfully, Reggie agreed to being his plus one, but as the cameras flashed when they arrived together, snapping countless photos, he realized too late how easily the world would misinterpret their energy.

Dmitri barely had time to dwell on it once he was shuffled to a private backroom to prepare for a brief speech he was scheduled to give. Other speakers milled about, stylists and makeup artists flitting around them, but Dmitri waved them off. He didn’t need their touch-ups; everything about him was already immaculate. And so he sat down, arms resting on the chair’s edges, dark chestnut eyes focused on the mirrored wall ahead.

Without a word after that, Reggie came sliding onto his lap, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Dmitri promptly stiffened, not out of discomfort, but because the weight of Reggie against him sent his senses tangling and contorting. His best friend’s hands moved to adjust his tie with meticulous care, as though it hadn’t already been perfect, and Dmitri’s gaze glazed over, locking onto Reggie’s face. His hand twitched against the armrest, instinct urging him to settle it on Reggie’s hip, but instead, he balled it into a fist, summoning a restraint he rarely had to exercise.

Reggie, however, didn’t seem fazed. His calm, fluid movements soothed something wild in Dmitri, and when the tie was adjusted at last, Dmitri let his open hand find the small of Reggie’s back, that little bit of contact grounding him in a way that nothing else could.

"Thank you," Dmitri murmured, voice so sincere, so proper, it was obvious he was holding back much more. "Don’t know what I’d do without you."

In that moment, surrounded by luxury and pretense, Dmitri felt more tranquil than he had all evening. Reggie wasn’t just his friend-------- he was the one thing that made all of this tolerable, the anchor that kept him from drifting too far into old disorder and chaos.

[theroguequeenaniki]

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#KimickaPhotoADay December Day 16: Ornament(s) 🎄

So, DisneyMovieInsiders closed early this month, and a couple months ago I used the last of my points to get these two ornaments. The Peace one is so pretty and the Finding Dory one is so cute. ^_^

#ornaments#ornament#disney#disneyornaments#mickeymouse#findingdory#disneymovieinsiders#dmi#happyholidays#peace#christmas#countdowntochristmas#day16#december#december2024#photo#photoaday#photoadaychallenge

[thunderaxel]

My gay oc for yall

[ozkar-krapo]

UN DRAME MUSICAL INSTANTANÉ

"L’Homme à la Caméra"

(LP. Grrr. 1984) [FR]

[astonautilia]

Blíží se čas táboráků, tady máte moje oblíbené snadné ale pěkné písničky na kytaru:

Omnia vincit amor

Čarodějnice z Amesbury

Trubadúr

[desecratedclergy]

"Be not ashamed. Angels will descend in your time of need."

[sugdendingle]

Danny on Off Script (Kelvin and his wife Liz's podcast about Corrie and Emmerdale)

[bobbynus]

SEBANYAK 160 juru sembelih atau jagal di Kabupaten Sidoarjo Jawa Timur, mendapatkan pelatihan tata cara memotong hewan kurban yang baik dan benar. Pelatihan itu dilakukan agar saat pelaksanaan pemotongan hewan kurban, terutama sapi, pada saat Idul Adha, bisa dilakukan sesuai syariat IsIam.

Kegiatan pelatihan pemotongan hewan kurban ini, diselenggarakan oleh pengurus Dewan Masjid Indonesia (DMI) Kabupaten Sidoarjo, bersama Baznas setempat. Kegiatan pelatihan di Masjid Nurul Anwar Perumahan BFF Sidoarjo tersebut, Senin (26/5), diikuti sedikitnya 160 juru potong hewan kurban.

"Ternyata banyak yang mengikuti pelatihan, dari target 100 orang, yang hadir 160 orang," kata Ketua DMI Sidoarjo Imam Mukozali.