#insane. no one can replicate this

[uncanny-tranny]

Another bonus to learning a fiber art is being able to speak to others in a Lovecraftian language that nobody else understands...

...and also being able to read things like THIS:

[sweetevoltrap]

Sylus saying "...don't run" to MC when they're finally being openly honest about their desire for one another and their trust and shared spaces.

[knoxprox]

My father tried to argue with me that writers refer to themselves as “artists” not “writers”.

Like as someone who wanted to be a “professional author” when I was little and who still considers myself a writer (if only without much motivation/energy) but also as someone who reads a ton online, I tried to explain that the term “artist” implied visual art of some kind, that artists and writers might refer collectively as “creatives” but most (you can never say all cause there are always outliers) writers will introduce themselves as a writer not an artist.

When I explained this, he made some dismissive comment about “just what you’re seeing on the internet”… as opposed to what?! you dont know any authors irl… but also like my guy you don’t even like books, you don’t read by choice and definitely not for fun, you don’t engage in any discourse about it but I do… I kinda think my info is what we should be trusting, even if its is from the internet…

[catcze]

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !! — Sylus. got insanely horny & needy earlier and typed this up in a haze. no editing just wanting him to kiss with his cum still dripping out of me ₊˚⊹♡

Sylus is the kind of man who peppers your face in kisses while his weight crushes you to the bed, your mixed cum still leaking where his softening cock plugs you up. He’s the kind of man who, boneless and pliant from how hard he came, is driven by only one urge now— to make sure you know how much he loves you.

You’re coming down from how intense and passionate Sylus gets during your lovemaking when he begins to leave kisses wherever he can reach. The press of his lips on your face are soft and fleeting like a flurry of butterflies, but each one carries his devotion— his adoration. With how tightly his chest is pressed against yours, you can feel how his heart races and skips when you giggle, jokingly trying to push his lips away from your face. You can even feel how his cock twitches when you smile at him.

“You’re so clingy,” you say, voice hoarse from the sounds he had dragged out from you. A hand gently caresses his cheek, your thumb pressing into the plush of his lips and stroking them fondly. And Sylus, in turn, sighs like your touch is pure bliss —eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into your hand— and presses a kiss to the base of your palm.

“Can you blame me?” Comes his low murmur, “Making love to you brings me euphoria that I can never hope to replicate.”

You just fondly shake your head, the apples of your cheeks warming from the soft, tender look he levels you with. When his eyes meet yours, there is nothing in there but a love so deep that you fear you could drown in it.

“I love you,” Sylus says a moment later, cheek still pressed against yours hand, humming softly when he feels you tiredly clench around him. He kisses your hand again.

And oh, the effect he has on your heart is illegal. Sylus is so tender and vulnerable in your palms —nothing like the feared fiend from ancient legend, nothing like the terrifying boss of Onychynus. Here, heris just a man, softened by love and kisses. Rough, calloused palms are now so painstakingly gentle when they trail up your body in reverence, caressing you like you are one of his most valuable treasures.

“I love you too,” is all you can bear to say, the words just the tip of the iceberg of how deeply you return his affections. And like he knows what you really mean, Sylus smiles against the cradle of your palm and pulls you into a tender, sweet kiss that blurs the rest of the world.

[morganbritton132]

Musical prodigy Steve, who is way too casual about this gift. He plays seven instruments and could read sheet music before he could spell his own name, and literally never mentions it.

He has perfect pitch and can perfectly replicate a song he’s heard once on the radio. If you gave him an instrument he’s never played before and an hour, he’d made something beautiful out of it. And no one knows.

Well, some people know.

His mom still signs him up for recitals and performances out of state, but Steve never talks about it. He just says he has something to do with him mom that weekend, and then goes to preform in a concert hall in front of hundreds of people.

Honestly, Steve kinda assumed everybody was like that.

His parents never made it seem like it was a big deal. Hell, he doesn’t even consider that he could go to college for music (not that his dad would ever allow it). It’s basically a hobby.

It’s only after concussion number two when he’s sitting in English class listening to Eddie Munson complaining for a week straight about how he has an ‘epic vision’ for a ‘new song’ but it’ll never come to fruition because he’d need a full string orchestra.

And then another week listening to him hum the melody of the song.

And then a couple more days with the studio equipment that his parents got him for Christmas that Steve starts to think that maybe this ability isn’t all that common.

Eddie - still complaining - just stares at him with shock and confusion when Steve sits a cassette down in front of him and tells him to, “Stop talking.”

Honestly, that should be it, right? Steve has spent more effort making mix tapes than that cassette and those were barely a blip in the week so…

So, why is Eddie Munson confronting him at his locker the next morning? Eddie’s hands are all over the place like, “Did you really find and pay an entire orchestra to play my music just so I’d be quiet?”

“No,” Steve says slowly because that’s insane. “I played your music so you’d be quiet… it clearly didn’t work.”

“You can play…”

“Yeah?”

Eddie just stares at him like he’s something worth staring at and then asks seriously, “Do you want to be in my band?”

[belovebug]

it makes me sad that taking myself out to the cinema or a cafe or to a museum or art gallery feels so impossible >:(

[discocandles]

one thing about steve harrington is that he sucks at doing nothing. like he has to be doing something with himself lest the guy waste away. this has led to him being very good at fucking around with things especially when its something relatively quiet. the loudest steve will let himself keep his hands busy while stuck idle is tossing whatever's in his hand to himself and catching it, which usually bodes well for sports practice after coach learned that just because he was moving didnt mean he wasnt paying attention(usually the opposite).

he learned how to flip a pencil around his thumb in middle school and seeing someone in one of the meetings he sat in on doing it. he'll twirl anything he can around in his hand, especially while he was working in the mall. the scoopers were perfect for it. and any way youve seen a drummer/percussionist fiddle with a drumstick, steve knew he had to replicate it.

but even with all this movement and the fact the guy was barely ever not moving, it seemed like no one noticed it ever. a fact that nearly drove eddie insane when they were in high school together. because he did have the reputation of being restless, and in a constant state of movement. and he probably fucked around with random shit less, so how did steve "the hair" harrington not end up with the same reputation? the answer was just that he was way more quiet("and sneaky" -eddie) about it. and if the teacher hated when their students fiddled and futzed he'd be sure to try and keep the movement below his desk.

but it not that he only has to keep his hands busy. no no no, if bored or stuck waiting, and that won't suffice, steve harrington will pick up anything with words just to read it. anything. outdated newspapers, ingredients lists, magazines of any topic. he just mindlessly grabs for whatever and starts fucking reading. Robin could swear under oath to a court that her best friend has read the back of every vhs in family video. hell, she's seen him reading drugstore novels, like the fucking grandma smut and books with cover art of nicely dressed ladies running from a castle. and its her jock best friend reading it, instead of some repressed suburban woman who hates her husband. yes, this information is the bane of robin buckley's exsistance because its not like anyone would believe her.

idk just give me steve being restless but doing it quietly enough that no one really picks up on it.

[agreeewrites]

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure singed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

[i2rizz]

Life sized plushie

Kaiser, Rin, Sae, Reo, Shidou

| masterlist

Michael Kaiser

The moment you dragged a massive box into the living room, Kaiser was already side-eyeing you. The smug smirk he always wore twitched slightly, intrigued but suspicious.

“Schatz, what the hell is that?” he asked, arms crossed as he watched you tear through the tape.

You grinned up at him. “A surprise.”

The moment the cardboard flaps opened, he saw it.

A life-sized plush of himself.

Kaiser blinked, staring at the overly perfect replication of his features, from the striking blue and gold eyes down to the signature cocky smirk stitched onto its fabric face.

Silence.

Then, laughter.

Not yours—his.

A full, deep, slightly unhinged laugh as he leaned on the wall for support. “You—you bought this?” he wheezed. “Oh my God, I knew you were obsessed, but this? This is insanity.”

You pouted. “If you think it’s so crazy, I can just return it—”

He lunged forward, snatching it out of the box and holding it at arm’s length. “Nope, this is staying. I need it to remind me of how deeply, hopelessly in love with me you are.”

You rolled your eyes. “If anything, I bought it to keep me company when you abandon me for practice.”

Kaiser scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Guess I have to make up for it then, huh?” His lips brushed against your temple. “But, Schatz, if I ever catch you cuddling that thing instead of me, we’re going to have a problem.”

You smirked, arms crossing. “Define ‘problem.’”

Kaiser’s grin turned sharp. “Let’s just say you won’t be needing a plush for comfort.”

Itoshi Rin

Rin wasn’t expecting a package when he came home from practice, so when he saw the massive box sitting in your shared apartment, he was immediately on high alert.

“[Name], what’s this?”

You beamed. “A gift.”

Rin shot you a wary look before opening the box—and freezing.

A life-sized plush of himself sat inside, its expression somehow capturing his usual annoyed scowl.

Rin stared at it. Then at you. Then back at the plush.

“This is unnecessary,” he deadpanned.

You pouted. “I thought you’d like it.”

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you even need this?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around the plush’s waist. “You’re at practice all the time, so I figured I’d get a stand-in.”

Something twitched in Rin’s jaw. “A stand-in?” His voice was dangerously calm.

You hummed. “Yup. It’s comfy too.”

Rin narrowed his eyes. Before you could react, he plucked the plush out of your grasp and tossed it onto the couch like it was trash.

“You want comfort?” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you flush against him. “Use me.”

Your breath hitched.

Rin smirked, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I’m real. And I’m right here.”

The plush, long forgotten, lay abandoned on the couch.

Itoshi Sae

Sae sighed when he saw the suspiciously large package waiting for him after practice.

“Don’t tell me,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Another one of your genius ideas?”

You grinned. “Actually, yes.”

Sae raised a brow and slowly opened the box. The moment his eyes landed on the plush—a life-sized version of him—he visibly froze.

Then, he sighed again.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You crossed your arms. “You don’t like it?”

He scoffed. “Oh no, I love having a stuffed version of myself staring at me in my own home.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the plush and held it against your chest. “Well, I think it’s cute.”

Sae’s eye twitched when he saw how easily you hugged it. “You’re not actually going to sleep with it, are you?”

You smirked. “Why? Jealous?”

Sae huffed. In one smooth motion, he snatched the plush from your hands and unceremoniously shoved it into the closet.

“If you want me,” he muttered, tilting your chin up with his fingers, “I’m right here.”

His lips ghosted over yours.

“Pick the real one.”

Reo Mikage

The second Reo saw the box, he was excited.

“What is it?” he asked, practically bouncing in place as you grinned up at him.

“Open it.”

The moment he saw himself in plush form, he gasped.

“No way.”

His violet eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled it out, turning it in his hands. “This is so extra—” He turned to you, smirking. “I love it.”

You laughed. “Knew you would.”

Reo placed the plush down and turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sooo… do you sleep with it?”

You huffed. “Maybe.”

Reo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “I’m replaced?”

You playfully shoved him. “You’re impossible.”

He laughed, but when his arms wrapped around you, his voice softened.

“You don’t need a plush,” he murmured. “I’m here, always.”

You smiled.

“Good,” you whispered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shidou Ryusei

The moment Shidou saw the plush, he cackled.

“Babe, what the hell is this?”

You smirked. “Your replacement.”

Shidou snorted. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute.” He leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. “But I know you’d miss me too much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Believe what you want.”

Shidou grabbed the plush and examined it. “Damn, they really got my jawline right.” Then he frowned. “But why does he look so tame?”

You sighed. “Because it’s a plush, Shidou.”

Shidou hummed, tossing it onto the bed. “Well, as long as you’re not cuddling it when I’m around, I’ll let it slide.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And if I do?”

Shidou grinned, eyes darkening.

“Then I guess I’ll have to remind you who the real one is.”

His lips were on yours before you could react.

The plush? Forgotten.

Your sanity? Gone.

Lemme know if u want more characters added :>>

[taasgirl]

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

[bloorpeon]

I cooked chat.

Fish world and their fish homes!

Au by @keferon

SO! Here’s how I think fish houses work based on your type of fish, starting with the gill mers.

Personally I think that the mer homes would be very hobbit style, and their furniture would be very old, more related to pirate furniture. Since they aren’t exactly going into modern human homes, they replicated what they found in ship wrecks. Of course the building techniques have grown since then, but with limited resources the look is generally the same.

Gill mer houses are fully flooded on the main section since they rely so heavily on the water. While they can survive for a short time out of water, the extended time breathing pure oxygen can make them sick. So their kitchens are partially flooded, allowing them room to quickly go back into the water while cooking.

This isn’t the same for other mers that rely on lungs and pure oxygen.

Their homes are partially flooded, still allowing them to swim in main parts but with large air pockets to take breaths. They have vents that blow in fresh air from the surface. Their kitchens have a thin layer of water on the floor, allowing them to slide around and minimize the effort it takes to move around. All kitchen have a smooth floor, can’t be having a bunch of scratches now can we.

They can’t use gas or fire for cooking, so they rely on electric stoves, which seems dangerous yes. But this is one of the reasons why the stoves are made of mostly non conductive materials, and they’re up on stilts so that the electricity doesn’t touch the water. If all else fails, most modern homes are built with safety measures that trip the “breakers” of that room entirely.

Most homes are made of stone, but if you live closer to the inner city then your home might have quartz mixed in.

Speaking of the city…

It’s just Iacon but underwater! But instead of the harsh and sharp edges and corners, everything is smooth and rounded. Lots of bubbled infrastructure, and a shit ton of windows!

Also pictured are some forms of houses. Top left shows a more common “suburb” where homes are built into mountains and cliffs. Bottom right shows common homes for more tropical mers.

There’s a whole multitude of different types of homes and how they work. Electricity and power run through underground cables, as well as most pipes. They get their power through water and wind, they have floating wind turbines, and all types of machines that are used for harnessing currents and riptides.

Though they’re not opposed from stealing from the humans on occasion.

Coming to my final description for this rant, the beds!

Fairly simple, gilled mers have bed that are fully submerged (usually made of seaweed and are shell shaped), and lunged mers have bed that keep their bodies in the water, but their heads up.

This concludes my insanity for today! Got questions or smth to add? Comment or send an ask, I’d love to make more things with yall

Okay bye bye

(Next time we’re talking about whale homes)

[deerspherestudios]

First of all, hello

What is Atom's love language?

I like the fingers referring to the characters' love language, It's very interesting.

(I apologize if something is not understood, English is not my native language)

Greetings from Mexico 🇲🇽, take care of yourself, eat and drink water in a healthy way please ^^

//RUBS HANDS THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME HERE IT IS 💜

This is about the most ✨self-indulgent✨ I can get with one of my characters because Atom is just about the BIGGEST simp there is among the cast. Here you go:

•┈••♡❤ Atom's Love Language(s) ❤♡••┈•

When you're on the receiving end; Mixed 🫴🎁💖

The thing with Atom is that it is entirely committed to returning the favor you did for them so long ago, like they said, "their kind answer action in spades."

And if that means providing every single whim your human heart desired, this could translate to offering both gifts and acts of service.

It is devoting it's entire being to that task (literally!) while you're staying on that ship.

I wish I could wax poetry here but it wants to be your vacuum cleaner, your Ford Cortina, your coffee pot, your leccy meter, your portable heater, your setting lotion. //lyr

You name it, Atom will become it!!

Nothing makes it happier than to pamper you like they strongly believe you should be for being their silver lining in darkness, their luna nova.

If Atom had the vocabulary to gush about you I would add words of affirmation here too. Alas, they only have themselves to give and hope you understand just how devoted they were to you for the rest of their life without saying it outright.

They just really really really love you, okay?

When it's on the receiving end; Physical Touch 🫂💕

Boy, where do I start! Touchstarved lads you're in for a treat.

It can't can't can't get the feeling of your gloves enclosing it so gently all those months ago out of its mindddd.

They wish to replicate that feeling by touching you anytime they can. Absolutely fascinated with your hands, in complete awe these were the ones that brought it to safety. They are nuzzling against your palms as we speak!

It's fully aware most humans get the ick when it comes to touching worms so while they wish they could touch you directly, most of the time it'll stay inside the suit.

It can sense touch from any part of the suit, so their helmet, gloves, boots, soles even, anywhere really.

They go bonkers for a headpat, go insane for a little peck on the glass of their helm. Hug them and they might implode.

If you're touch-averse, it'll try to respect it but they're gonna be vibrating from restrained effort the entire time sorry.

To the point if they're desperate, they'll just end up with tunnel vision on your presence at all times since they can feel through the ship, hyperfixating on the weight of your boots against the metal grating if they have to, literally worshipping you at your feet.

Overall their favorite activity is cuddling for sure and if you reciprocate, you'll find that they are very compact and huggable, 10/10.

In my deranged moments I've always wondered what it's like to hug the Michelin man and I think hugging Atom will feel similar.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[ilovecatfr]

things to script for you dr

beauty edition

(None of these are my work) these are some of the acc on tt I got them from and I recommend: @ theunknownshifter / @cattleya_ley / @reality_traveler_ / @irenesrealiity /@shiftingwithmily /@kiintsugiis

To others,there something about me unreal and and divinely beautiful,something that's from another world.

I'm bewitchingly and overwhelming beautifu.l

Im insanely seductive and charming to any gender.

My eyes have a jewel like effects that when light hits them, they light up with many different colours, like a gem would.

My beauty is like unspoken beautiful things in life and such brung to bring life in colours.I make everything seems much more colourful around me.

Just by my presence everything seems better and more colourful and brighter.

My movements are effortless, as il I glide through the world with an ethereal lightness. My posture is naturally poised, landing an air of regality to mine presence. The softness of mine skin invites gentle caresses, and mine touch is as gentle as a feather's kiss.

I hold an insane amount of pure femininity-a natural and exquisite state of perfect beauty.I am the best example of one of earths finest creations, the universe took its time perfecting every inch of me, down to the smallest flawless details. a sublime figure, graced with a certain magnificent aura to match.

My aura is a manifestation of my inner beauty, an ethereal glow that surround the l exudes a sense of purity, goodness, and an irresistible magnetism that draws people towards me. My presence is calming, as if I carry a piece of heaven within them. It is a palpable energy that radiates from my being, capturing the hearts and minds of all who encounter me.

Im what most people would see as a beauty fit for royalty, the kind of beauty that would capture the attention of a king or emprior, and send all men and women to their feet

it's not a burden to gift me expensive things it's only a reward for their hard efforts to provide for a beautiful princess

People constantly feel the need to re-visit where they last saw me for a dopamine spike.

My voice sounds like it was straight out of heaven itself, people beg for me to speak just to hear my voice.

My hair is always perfectly in place and sits perfectly, my hair has a beautiful shine to it as if the moon is being reflected on it.

My presence and gaze itself makes others begin to see the world through different lenses, and notice the beauty of being alive; my very being can drive others to tears, my beauty is unable to be comprehended by the human mind, im unreal.

My existence itself baffles anyone who sees me, as if im testament to the idea that life itself was a work of art. I'm a composition of countless perfect melodic notes, each one contributing to the symphony of existence.

My presence is overwhelming and exceedingly strong. it holds so much pure soul and life, all while being centered around someone so mystically beautiful as me is chilling and intimidating.

My beauty transcends the ordinary and is ethereal, evoking a sense of being from another world. It is unlike any other and has a mesmerizing quality that captivates those who lay eyes on me.

My distinctiveness sets me apart from the rest, making me an exceptional individual who cannot be replicated or duplicate.

it's not just my delicately carved facial features that are enchanting, but also my impeccable sense of style and graceful demeanor that radiate an undeniable charm.

My beauty cant be put in any category; it is unable to be defined by preexisting 'types', setting a new standard of unobtainable perfection. some cold and sharp features, some soft and whimsical, I am the perfect balance of beauty. an equal amount of each and every kind of look you could imagine; bringing it all together and forming something brilliant.

My eyes are magical almost brainwashing. People lose their focus on anything but my hypnotizing eyes when having eye contact with me.

I am the kind of beautiful people never recover from. There is something so devastating about the way I exist-like I was sculpted not just to be admired, but to be longed for. My presence doesn't just enter a room-it lingers, curling into the corners of people's minds and refusing to leave. I don't just catch eyes-I hold them hostage. They don't just want me-they ache for me. I am the addiction no one wants to quit.

[ew-selfish-art]

DPx DC AU: Danny learns that he can change his summoning ritual and decides to go chaos mode with it i.e. A viral tiktok trend.

Danny ascends the throne and it's honestly pretty alright as far as new jobs go. He states a few opinions, makes sure no one goes to war and is slowly integrating a community service sentence to Walker's prison. It's not a bad gig, and considering the troves of gold he's now owner of, it doesn't pay too shabby either.

His main problem with the job isn't even his constituents (he likes to think they would vote for him over pariah), it's all these loony death cults! They keep summoning him with Pariah's old cold sign and it's driving him insane- After a very unhelpful smirk by CW, a long study session in GW's library and some help from Ember (she knows drama like no one else) Danny finally has a new summoning ritual.

Of course he swapped out the blood and bone for like, sour gummies and random shit he had in his backpack at the time. A TI-84. And yes, the Latin chant is that one super-fast bit of Rap God preformed to a BTS dance at speed.

But rather than keep this to himself, he gets Sam (who has a thriving plant and protest community following) to record her completing this ritual and Danny being summoned. Why? Cause it was a very specific to Sam skill that they didn't know if people could replicate and it gives Danny some plausible deniability that he tried to make it difficult when CW asks.

Posting it makes it very quickly go viral as people attempt to call it fraudulent but sure enough, Danny is now traveling the world at a moments notice.

Which is great cause it's summer and he's bored in Amity anyway (He's going to change it before he starts university in September, duh), and its even better because the second a lame ass death cult brings him forward to, like, destroy the planet, a slumber party or influencer has already summoned him away. Shit, he even met a few celebrities this way! Plus, turns out that most death cultists aren't able to rap!

Reality hit him pretty hard when he got summoned to an office space that is clearly a base of operations and the summoning spell locked him in. Literally, he has no idea how to get out of this binding spell- Danny definitely hadn't realized that was an option. Taking in the Justice League members in front of him, plus one trench coated menace, Danny groaned for a moment before thinking to ask:

"Wait- Which one of you was able to do Rap God? And the dance? Please tell me someone thought to film that!!"

[oh-no-its-bird]

One of those "Tobirama finds Madara's chakra comforting" aus but its played straight, with an as close to canon, accurately awful man that he is Tobirama. And the entire fic is just him being really, really mad about it.

He's in his lab trying and failing to somehow replicate Madara's chakra signature, or bar that, just an Uchiha chakra signature

Madara falls asleep at his desk and wakes up to Tobirama glaring silently at him not even a foot away. When he jerks up and demands to know if he can help him, Tobirama just narrows his eyes further and let's out a very terse "no." Before spinning around and marching off

Tobirama refuses to admit he finds Madara, or any Uchiha's chakra comfortable under pain of death, to literally anyone (including his brother) so he's just kind of sulking around being a fucking freak, staring at Madara extra hard sometimes then turning away, angry at seemingly just looking at him (accurate but he's also just mad with himself)

Tobirama battling his own pride to put himself in increasingly convoluted situations to be in general proximity with Madara (who, to be clear, he still greatly dislikes)

He keeps swinging between "I'm going fucking insane, what is WRONG with me?? This is beneath me, this is ridiculous! If anyone finds out I will be forced to kill myself out of shame" and mapping out a 10 step plan to somehow "accidentally" lock himself and Madara in a closet together, prefferably in a way that makes it look like it's Madara's fault

Tobirama ends up somehow stealing a portion of Madara's chakra (don't ask how that works) and making a little chakra construct out of it to keep in his lab and use like a stress toy (but it can only last so long, especially when he keeps squeezing it till it explodes every time he's even mildly stressed or annoyed)

Meanwhile Madara is asking Hashirama what the actual fuck is wrong with his brother and Hashirama is going "oh no he's was born like that actually"

[monstersflashlight]

Monster smash (part 3)

A/N: Hi lovelies! I finally decided how this one is going to play out and who is going to be the main romantic partner (or partners) in this story. So now you can see it’s minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x human, I’m all for a good poly relationship and I want to explore this one with y’all, hope you are on board, too. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here. Enjoy!

Minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x fem!reader || sfw

“You are all monsters…” You let out in a whisper, all of their faces impassive as they stare down at you. You blink slowly, still trying to process.

“Yes, we are, honey. I thought you knew, you were so excited to be here I just assumed…” The lady from the grocery store, the fucking scary demon in front of you, is being so careful and cute and it’s making your head hurt. She’s so nice, but looks so scary… Your brain can’t fully comprehend what is all that about.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” the big orc says, blinking slowly at her as she hits his arm.

He lets out a high yelp and that, of all things, breaks you. You let out a manic laughter, your whole body moving with the force of it, tears rolling down your eyes as you feel like you are descending into madness.

And then the tears turn into sobbing, and you are almost convinced you are insane. Totally insane, and everyone is looking at you like you are, indeed, insane. The grocery lady offers you some tissues, and you take them, your breathing labored between sobs. You feel a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles, and when you turn to the side and see your dragon neighbor, you can’t even react accordingly. You stare at them, their big body looming over you as they pass you another tissue.

“Are you okay?” Their voice is soft but with a hint of fire under it (get it? Fire because they’re a dragon). You shake your head, but your sobs stop, only lonely tears running down your cheeks at that point.

You are sitting on the floor, with a dragon consoling you and a bunch of monsters staring you like you are the weird one. Which… maybe you are. In that particular group, you are the weird one. That realization leaves you feeling a bit better, taking a deep breath and wiping away the few tears still clinging to your eyelashes.

“I think I’m going to go,” you whisper, shaking your head and avoiding your best friend’s eyes.

“Let me walk you home,” your minotaur landlord says, his voice soft as he helps you to your feet. You let him, your body and mind too tired to fight him or anyone else. You need to sleep, to process… You might be in shock.

You walk alongside him when the dragon yells: “Wait for me! I’m leaving, too!”

They rush behind you two, a big smile on their face. You have to bite your lip to avoid chuckling. They are fucking cute in their dragon form, even cutter than their human one, and you might have a bit of a crush on them. You had it before when you only knew about their human characteristics and now… Now you think they are even more special. And you lowkey dig that.

You are definitely in shock.

They stop at the door, and you watch in fascination as they turn to their human selves. You think your mouth is open, but you can’t get it to close as you watch them change completely in front of you.

The walk home is silent, their presence making your heart a bit faster, but not in fear exactly. You feel some kind of anticipation, as if the idea of them being monsters is not as weird as you thought. You think about all the weird quirks you’ve seen before. The dragon hoard, the weird way in which your landlord always played with his septum, now replicated with the big ring you knew his minotaur form had. It all makes sense in a weird way.

All but one thing… your best friend lying to you.

They stop in front of your door, both of them staring at you as if you are going to start crying again at any second, but you don’t. Your brain feels weirdly calm as you say your goodbyes and watch them walk down the hall. The dragon sends a wink your way, and you smile at them. Your landlord only grunts on his way down the stairs, and you can’t stop yourself from checking his ass.

You walk into your apartment with your head pounding and your body feeling weird. You have to sit down and process what’s going to happen next… But you have no idea.

“The best way to deal with shit is going to sleep,” you say out loud, laughing at yourself as you get out of your silly costume and fall face first onto your mattress.

Your dreams are plagued with monsters and heat, and you wake up with a jolt. You rush through your morning routine as if the world wasn’t upside down. As if you didn’t discover the existence of monsters less than 24h. The wonders of capitalism, your life might be in shambles, but you have to get dressed and go to work either way. And that’s exactly what you have to do.

You are almost out the door when you saw the tiny piece of paper slipped under your door that reads: Meet me for tea?

You know who wrote that, she wrote those exact words a thousand times before, and you always said yes. But now… Now you aren’t sure if you want to meet her. You aren’t sure if she deserves you to meet her. She lied to you, and you are still mad about it. You talked about everything and anything, you shared your deepest, darkest secrets with her, and you thought she did the same with you… But she didn’t. And it hurts. It hurts so bad you want to scream. But instead you take the piece of paper and break it into dozens of tiny pieces.

You exit your door at the same time her door opens. She stares at you, and you stare at her. It’s so weird to see her back in her human form. She sees the mess of tiny papers on the floor and she sighs, letting out a soft: “Darling, please…”

“Don’t call me darling,” you tell her, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction.

“I can explain everything, please. Just one cup of tea. And then I’ll leave you alone,” the plea in her tone makes your insides turn, your resolution melting as her eyes flash yellow in front of you.

Ugh, you the that she’s your weakness. You didn’t have enough crushing on your best friend, but on top of that she had to be a lizard-woman… How the fuck was your life like that?

“Ugh, fine.”

You hope you don’t regret it.