#an amazing piece of wax

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Syntonic Research, Inc. - Environments, disc 11, 1978

[omegamoo]

i have lots of. thoughts about like why the wp as a project has turned out the way it has and lots of those thoughts are really good sweet ones about community and then lots of frustrations too i think

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[stardust-swan]

Secrets to the Arabian Princess Scent 💐🧴🪷

So with Arab perfumes becoming popular in the West due to their strong projection and beautiful smell, and the Arab world becoming known for our knowledge on how to smell good af, I (a half Moroccan) am going to reveal some other ways we ensure we smell amazing to the girlies on Tumblr who are interested in Arab perfumes or just in generally smelling amazing 😍 Most tips are Moroccan but many apply to the Arab world in general (under the cut because this turned into a long post) ✨💞💐

1) Good Eating Habits: When my mother moved here to Europe, she was immediately struck by how the people seemed to smell like "pig." And that's no coincidence. You are what you eat, so coming from a country where nobody eats pig to one where everyone eats it, of course you're going to be struck by people smelling like it from the inside out. Not just that, but in the Arab world, it's also way less common for people to eat takeout and drink alcohol, whereas in many parts of the West, these things are a normal part of many people's diets and affects their natural scent. A lot of Arabs have also talked about how Westerners smell like "milk," and this is because Westerners tend to consume more dairy products than people in the East do. It's also common for Arabs to eat fruit as dessert instead of having cakes or cookies all the time (although speaking of cookies and cakes, the scents of rosewater, orange blossom water, almonds, honey, vanilla, oranges and lemons commonly used in Arab baking fill up the house with a wonderful smell while they're baking). Teas made from various herbal infusions are popular throughout the Arab world. Spearmint, peppermint, sage, cardamom, cinnamon, hibiscus, chamomile, anise, and thyme are commonly used to flavor tea in MENA. Dried lime tea is drunk in the Arabian Peninsula. Coffee flavoured with cardamom is also common. I especially like Turkish coffee. Spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves are commonly used in cooking, and the scent of them can cling to your clothes and hair. Herbs like mint and parsley, which have natural deodorising properties, are often used in meals.

I'm not saying that you need to cut any foods out in order to smell good, but you should consider reducing the amounts of unhealthy foods and red meats you eat, and make sure to drink plenty of water and eat veggies and fruit daily.

2) Keeping a Clean House: Here in Ireland, a lot of people don't clean their houses every day. I know multiple people that only clean their floor once a week, and have a couple of neighbours who don't do much cleaning themselves and just have a housekeeper visit to clean once a week. But in Morocco, people clean daily. The home is also deep cleaned once a week, we even wash the walls. We don't wear shoes inside, and not just that, but we also have different slippers specifically for wearing inside the bathroom. Living in a clean space is important for smelling good, because no matter what you do, you'll always end up smelling like wherever you live due to spending so much time there. The scent will cling to your clothes and hair. Which means if your house smells dirty, you will also smell dirty.

As well as making sure the house is clean, Arabs also make it smell pretty with extras. For example, in Morocco it's common to burn incense or bakhour (perfumed wood chips), and the scent permeates your clothes. People also keep pieces of musk in their wardrobes (wrapped in a handkerchief). It come in scents like orange blossom, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, chamomile and lavender. An unused bar of soap or a sachet of potpourri in your wardrobe will do the same job though if you can't or don't want to buy musk. The musk can also be used as a scented wax melt, a home scent (you just leave it in a bowl), a body perfume (rub it on your skin), a hair perfume (rub on your palms and run through the hair), or to scent bathwater. Solid perfume made from natural ingredients has the same effect. I like Lush Rose Jam solid perfume, as it smells like sweet roses and Turkish delight, and a little goes a long way.

Specific to Marrakech, you can buy jasmine balls which you just leave around the house (if you're not in Marrakech, you can just leave potpourri or dried flowers and herbs in sachets on your desk, bedside table, etc). The Marrakech herbal shops also sell sandalwood bark which you burn. Oud and amber are also burned. Herbs like lavender are sprinkled under carpets and rugs so the scent rises as they're stepped on. Room sprays from brands like Nabeel are used, which come in a range of lovely scents (like the warm vanilla and oud Kanz or the rich floral Raunaq).

3) Personal Hygiene: In the Arab world, people shower daily. In Morocco, we also go to the hammam (public bath) once a week, and we sit in the sauna room, and then rub our bodies with sabon beldi (black soap), a natural soap made from olive oil and black olives, leaving it on for a few minutes before rinsing it off. Then we scrub our skin with a kessa glove after it's marinated. Exfoliating dead skin regularly makes perfume cling to you better (if you order Korean bath towels from Amazon, they're very similar to Moroccan kessa gloves and you use them in a similar way). Then after washing our hair, we use a ghassoul clay mask (some people also rub henna into their skin). After washing the clay off, many people rub rosewater or argan oil into their skin before heading to the relaxation area to enjoy refreshments. As well as helping us smell good, it also makes our skin incomparably soft. When my parents were newlyweds, my father remarked on how he'd never felt a woman with such soft skin in his life before. My mother attributes it to regularly using the hammams before moving here.

Obviously not everyone has access to a hammam, but you can create a similar experience at home. Just sit in a steamy hot shower for 10-15 minutes, wash your skin with a natural soap and leave it on for a few minutes before rinsing off and exfoliating with a glove. Then tone with rosewater and apply oil to your body.

Dukhan treatments (smoke baths) are practiced in Sudan. Married women and brides anoint themselves with oil, before sitting over a chair with a hole in the centre. Under the seat, there is a pit, in which acacia wood, frankincense, or other aromatic woods and resins are burned in a clay vessel.

As well as showering daily (and using the hammam regularly if you're Maghrebi), many people in the Arab world also perform wudu (ritual cleansing) five times a day before praying.

Women commonly apply Musk Al Tahara (white musk), an attar that smells like vanilla, flowers and soft musk on the external parts of their vulva after periods.

Alum was commonly used as a natural deodorant in the Arab world in the past, and some still use it today.

Bidets are also common in the Arab world. In the Anglosphere they're uncommon, but it's easy to get a portable bidet (a small squeezable bottle with a nozzle) online.

We also wash our hands before meals, with a pitcher of water which is passed around the room. In Turkey, they use kolonya, made from fig blossoms, jasmine, rose, or citrus to disinfect their hands. In Morocco, it's common for women to scent their hands with rosewater or orange blossom water after meals.

4) Fragrances, Lotions and Potions: In the Arab world, perfumes are incredible. They're oil-based, so they have excellent projection and longevity. The olfactory notes commonly used in them are beautiful too: delicate rosewater and orange blossom water, exotic oud, sweet amber, vibrant roses and jasmine. In Morocco, gardenia scents are popular, even among men.

Emirati perfumes are the most well known in the West and are super good. Some personal favourites of mine include Oud Mood by Lattafa (Caramel, rose, saffron, and oud), Fatima Pink by Zimaya (Sweet rose that smells like a bit like Turkish delight. it's a dupe of the French Parfums De Marly Delina, however, the actual Delina smells very similar to generic rose oil perfumes you can get in the Arab world to begin with so Zimaya was basically able to dupe it to a T. Their version lasts really long too), Ameerat Al Arab by Lattafa (jasmine, a hint of oud, slightly citrusy. Also the name means "Arabian Princess" in English), Fakhar Rose by Lattafa (sweet, fruity, and very floral) and Yara by Lattafa (floral, amber, vanilla and strawberry). I buy my perfumes from Dubai Perfume Shop in Dublin, but they can be easily found online. Some well-known Arab perfume houses include Lattafa, Al Rehab, Zimaya, Al Qurashi, Amouage, Afnan, Ajmal, Asdaaf, Al Haramain, Armaf, Kayali, Maison Alhambra, and Swiss Arabian, but there are hundreds more.

As well as sprayable perfume, perfume oil is also used. It usually comes in rollerballs or small containers, is inexpensive, and lasts for ages. Like spray perfume, it comes in a huge variety of scents. You can also put it in diffusers or add some to cotton balls and leave in your wardrobe to scent clothes and linens.

Arabs know when to wear perfumes. For example, a rich, sweet, strong oud and vanilla scent will be beautiful in colder weather. But in warm weather, it will become cloying and sickly. Musk, amber and saffron are popular in winter, while rose, orange blossom and jasmine are popular in summer.

In the Arab world, many stalls in the Medina sell gorgeous oils, fragrances and soaps that are inexpensive. For example, the musk I mentioned above. As well as making your home smell incredible, you can also rub it on your body and you'll smell good for days.

Rosewater is commonly used as a toner and to remove makeup. In the town of Skoura, where my great grandparents were from, men even use it to shave with! Orange blossom water is also used in Arab beauty routines in a similar way to rosewater. You can apply either to a bath for extra luxury.

Argan oil is commonly used in Morocco on both skin and hair, as well as the less well-known but just as good prickly pear oil (which is very high in vitamin E). Pure argan oil actually smells mild and not fragrant (similar to olive oil), but for beauty, things like rose oil and menthol are commonly added, so it smells pretty good. Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, jasmine hair oil, castor oil and sweet almond oil (I like putting it in my baths and on my body) are easy to find. Usually Middle Eastern and South Asian shops in the West sell them too.

Honey and almond masks have been used since ancient times, and to this day are still popular. You can buy them basically anywhere. Homemade face masks made from honey and yoghurt or crushed figs and yoghurt are also used.

Aloe Vera is used to treat dry skin, acne, and sunburns. It has a cool and refreshing scent, perfect for the hot climate in many parts of the Arabian world. I like applying it after shaving as it's soothing, natural, and absorbs easily.

Frankincense, a resin used in the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years, was traditionally used as a natural perfume. It's commonly used in incense. Frankincense oil is also good for the skin.

There are many beautiful scented soaps available in the Arab world. If you go to Turkish or Arab supermarkets, a lot of them will have a section where they sell hygiene products, including soaps with ingredients like argan, rose and oud, and olive oil. I've even found Syrian Aleppo soap before. You can just buy soaps from regular stores in scents like rose, jasmine, honey and almond, orange blossom and sandalwood for achieving that exotic scent though.

As well as using various oils, perfumes, and fragrant beauty treatments, Arab women also know how to layer these different scents to add dimension to them and avoid clashing. For example, a rose perfume over a vanilla lotion will always smell good. Other combinations that are good include almond and vanilla, rose and oud, rose and jasmine, lavender and lemon, rose and orange blossom, and orange blossom and vanilla. But there are many different combinations you can use to achieve a delicious scent that's unique to you.

I hope this was helpful, stay pretty ✨

[atlabeth]

🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air

could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼

happy 3k again my love!!

twin flames

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): all fluff

“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?” 

“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged. 

“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?” 

The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud. 

“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.” 

“Is that true?” 

Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours. 

“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.” 

You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.” 

Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.” 

That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?” 

He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.” 

“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.” 

His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him. 

“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?” 

“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”

“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.” 

“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.” 

At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour. 

“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?” 

“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.” 

“A twin flame?” 

“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.” 

“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.” 

Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?” 

“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.” 

Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment. 

“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.” 

“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?” 

“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.” 

You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing. 

“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.” 

“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.” 

“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”  

“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?” 

You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.” 

“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.” 

“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.” 

Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough. 

“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.” 

“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?” 

Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.” 

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #27

Mammon: How many swords do you have?

Diavolo: Sword of a lot

Raphael: Blocked

Diavolo: Parried

•

Mammon: My pockets jingle with stolen buttons from hot topic

Mammon: I literally can’t stop stealing those buttons from the Button Vats like I don’t feel like paying 3 dollars for a piece of tin with Pusheen on it but I do feel like doing a heist

Mammon: Call the cops bitch I’ll have sex with them

Simeon: This feels like the kind of thing you overhear when the person next to you on the bus is having a heated phone call

•

Belphegor: Wasn’t ICarly that guy with wax wings who flew into the sun and fucking got rest because same

Belphegor: I just realized my phone corrected Icarus to ICarly because I type ICarly more than Icarus okay thanks

Mammon: I thought this was just a god tier shit post

•

Thirteen: Bro pick up your eboy he’s curled up in the corner of my living room quivering, speaking in tongues, and surrounded by an impenetrable wall of writhing lamb’s entrails

MC: That’s not my eboy that’s my malewife they’re supposed to do that

Thirteen: Stop being funnier than me or I’ll do something about

•

Belphegor: People like to claim you can’t be funny without being offensive but my twin once looked at a packet of tesco’s chicken and said “60% chicken? I like those odds.” And I’m still laughing sixteen years later

•

Mammon: How fucked up would it be if you jumped into a ball pit and it was just tomatoes painted different colors

Beelzebub: Depends

Mammon: …On what?

•

Satan: Amazing how a colon can completely change the meaning of a sentence. For example:

— Jane ate her friend’s Sandwich

— Jane ate her friend’s Colon

Leviathan: This is the hardest I’ve ever snorted. My nose/throat actually hurts a little now

•

Mephistopheles: There are breasts on my roof. Scampering about. Wretched.

Diavolo: Th—There are what

Mephistopheles: BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS

•

MC: A knife block that screams when you put knives in it

Lucifer: A human

Barbatos: So a human

Solomon: Caesar

•

Solomon: Diamonds are carbon. People are carbon. I wonder how big a Diamond I could make out of one

Simeon: I think about your tumblr blog a lot. I think about the fact anyone can say anything on the open internet and I’m glad you are able to voice whatever is in your head

Solomon: Thanks

•

MC: Weatherboy (derogatory)

Diavolo: Op what does this mean

MC: Wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy

•

Asmodeus: Everyone wants me. Especially this guy chasing me with a knife

•

Mephistopheles: Fill your body with cranberries so the horse that kills you gets a sensual surprise

Barbatos: I will give the horse that kills me no such luxury

•

Mammon: *gets home*

*breaks knuckles* time to shit myself to sleep again boys

Mammon: Wait no it’s cracks knuckles

Mammon: Wait no it’s cry myself to sleep

Mammon: Don’t reblog this stop it

•

Asmodeus: Fun new blog title: “welcome to my twisted pussy”

Solomon: Ducks be like

Asmodeus: This is no longer a fun new blog title

•

Leviathan: I hope everyone is having a fucking day

Lucifer: Easily one of the days I’ve had this week

Last • Next

[obsessed-with-wwe-women]

Heart Shaped Kisses

R. Ripley x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), clit play, soft sex, scissoring, top!rhea, bottom!reader, wax play, praising, dirty talk

of course i came back on valentines day, what did you expect?

it kinda switched between 1st and 3rd person, oops. not proofread

The night had been perfect. Rhea took you to your favorite restaurant where she had a private table reserved for the two of you, with your favorite wine waiting for you, and a tall red candle in the middle of the table that lit the area.

As much as it may be a surprise, Rhea was a hopeless romantic, and she loved valentines day. Any day that gave her an excuse to spoil you, was perfect for her. Your gift was given to her earlier in the morning. You made her breakfast and you had curated an adorable little basket filled with her favorite treats, red and black roses, a stuffed bear with your anniversary date on its paw, and of course you snuck a lingerie set neatly folded on the bottom. Rhea loved it, and she gave you so many kisses afterwards your lips were almost numb.

Now, she pulled out your chair for you, and pushed it back in before taking her seat across from you. She poured you a glass of wine, and smiled at you from across the table.

You had been dating for 3 years, and it always amazed you how she seemed to come up with a new date idea for valentines day each year. It was adorable and you were so grateful for the thought she put into making your night.

"I love this, Rhea. Thank you so much." You spoke gratefully as you looked around the restaurant.

"Of course, I love doing this for you, love." Rhea smiled and she held your hand over the table. Bringing my hand up to her lips, she gave it a soft kiss.

I felt my cheeks heat up and I covered my face with my other hand with a big smile.

"Let me see you, beautiful." Rhea said. I blushed harder and shook my head no, laughing softly.

I uncovered my face a few minutes after, pushing pieces that fell in my face behind my ear.

"There's my beautiful girl." Rhea whispered with a soft smile on her face as she looked at me. I didn't cover my face this time, I just looked the other way as I sipped my wine.

"You're adorable." I said as I looked back her, returning the smile. Rhea playfully rolled her eyes, but I saw her blush as she looked the other way, which made me giggle.

The waiter came around to take your orders, and once he was done Rhea looked back at you.

"You really look beautiful tonight, Y/n." Rhea complimented sweetly.

"Thank you, Rhe. So do you." I complimented back, kissing her hand this time.

Dinner was amazing, she ended up finishing mine for me because I made the mistake of getting something bigger than I usually do but she wasn't complaining. We were in the car now, music playing quietly as her hand gripped my thigh.

We were about a 25 minute drive from the house, so we had a little bit to go. Rhea thumb began rubbing back and forth on the skin of my thigh, and I didn't miss the smirk on her face from the corner of my eye.

Her hand slowly began to inch higher and higher as time went on. I started shuffling in my seat about 5 minutes ago, and it of course didn't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asked, faux concern in her voice, she knew what was wrong.

"Nothing! I'm just cold, that's all." I lied.

"Hm, okay." Was all she said as she looked back at the road.

Rhea's hand was now under the skirt of my dress, almost touching where I needed her the most, she was so close. She was still for a moment, until her pinky just barely ran over the center of my damp panties.

"Rhea." I sighed, looking over at her.

A smirk was painted on her lips as she looked ahead, pulling into our driveway, thank god.

"I want you in the house, up the stairs, and on the bed for me. Strip to your panties, beautiful." Rhea ordered softly before unlocking the car. I opened the door with a quick 'Yes Mami' before practically running into the house. I got up the stairs, and discarded from my dress and bra, and got on the bed like she requested.

I waited for only a few minutes, before she walked through the door in a pair of heels, fishnets and the lingerie I had put in the bottom of the basket. My jaw dropped as I took her in. How the hell did she get in that so fast?

"What, see somethin' you like?" Rhea teased as she put her hand on her hip. All I could do was nod as I brought my bottom lip between my teeth.

She slowly walked towards me, heels clicking across the floor as she inched closer. As she got next to the nightstand, she lit the skinny pink candle that was sitting there. It softly lit the room, and it smelled like roses.

"So pretty all spread out for me, baby." Rhea whispered as she stood next to me now, her hand reaching to softly pinch at one of my nipples.

I let my head fall back against the pillows with a soft sigh of her name.

"Fuck, Rhea." I whined as she tugged on it, eyebrows furrowing. Rhea let out a deep chuckle as she switched to my other nipple, pinching it roughly this time. My mouth fell open with a gasp as I opened my eyes to look at her. Her eyes were already fixed on me, taking in my features and every expression on my face.

Fuck.

"I bet your pussy is so wet for me already, isn't it baby?" Rhea husked as she gently trailed her hand down my torso, tickling my skin. All I could do was nod in response, which earned a smack against my clothed pussy. "Words, Y/n."

"Yes, Mami." I breathed out, my thighs trying to close against her hand before they were pushed back open. Rhea's middle finger pressed against my clit over my panties, which caused a soft moan to escape my lips as my eyes fluttered closed.

"So easy." She whispered. I went to speak, but when her finger began to rub in circles every thought quickly disappeared from my brain.

My body relaxed, and my legs spread wider.

"There's my girl." Rhea whispered beneath my ear as she left a soft kiss there.

"I can practically feel how drenched you are through your panties, sweet girl. This all for me?" She taunted in a high voice.

"Yes," I moaned.

"Good girl." She smiled.

Rhea's hands grabbed at my waistband as she slowly pulled them down, whispering a quiet 'fuck' as she saw my wetness glisten in the dim light of the candle and the street lights peeking from the window. As she slid my panties off, Rhea placed my legs over her shoulders as she pressed a soft kiss to my ankle, and began to slowly trail kisses up my leg until she was on her stomach between my thighs.

Usually, she'd tease me here, but this time she placed a kiss on my clit, and used her thumbs to spread my folds to get a better look.

"You're so fucking beautiful, baby. So fuckin' wet for me." Rhea said, with a low moan vibrating from the back of her throat as she sucked my clit between her lips.

"Fuck!" I squealed, arching my back off of the bed.

Rhea's tongue gently drew circles on my bud, using her tongue piercing to hit spots that made my brain go fuzzy.

"Mami," I whined as I squeezed my eyes shut. Soft whines and whimpers continued to leave my lips as she played with my clit, going between flicking her tongue against it and sucking on it.

"Such a noisy girl for me, aren't you?" Rhea pulled her head away to tease, her thumb replacing her tongue. She applied just the right amount of pressure as she quickly circled the sensitive nerves.

"I'm gonna cum, Mami." I warned as I felt my stomach tighten. Just then, Rhea slipped her middle and ring fingers inside of me, curling them into my sweet spot as she put her mouth back on my clit.

"Rhea!" I moaned, my head falling back as my thighs tightened around her head. She quickened her fingers, and it was only mere seconds before I felt my orgasm crash over me. Rhea helped me ride it out, switching to soft licks and slow curls of her fingers.

"You did so good for me, beautiful. I'll never get over the way you taste." Rhea said agaisnt my lips once she pulled her fingers out of me, kissing me deeply.

The kiss got heated quickly as her hips started to grind against mine, and when I moaned into her mouth she pulled back.

"I need to feel you against me, baby." I whispered.

Rhea's eyes widened slightly before they grew darker, and she smirked as she started pulling the straps off her shoulders.

"Yeah?" She said breathlessly, as she discarded her clothing. She spread my thighs again, and placed one of her legs over top of mine.

Placing herself against my core, we both let out a moan as she thrusted forward, our clits rubbing together perfectly.

"Oh fuck." She sighed, tossing her head back. She did it again, harder this time.

"You feel so good." I moaned, closing my eyes until I felt something hot against my skin. I gasped as my eyes shot open, and then I moaned louder once I noticed she had dripped some of the wax from the candle just below my breasts. This wasn't new to us, but it always surprised me.

"I could fuck your pretty pussy like this all damn time, you know that?" Rhea husked as she sped up, chasing her own high. I whined her name, hips bucking to meet hers as she continued to drip the pink wax onto my skin. I smiled when I looked down, seeing that she was drawing a heart with the wax.

She put the candle back a few moments later, interlacing her fingers with mine as she stared into my eyes. The combination of the eye contact, and her clit rubbing against mine made my stomach tighten again.

"Mami," I breathed out, eyes struggling to stay open.

"Happy Valentines day, beautiful."

"Wait for me baby, let me cum with you. You can hold it for me, can't you?" She said out of breath. Who could say no to that? I nodded, bucking my hips to meet hers. Rhea moaned, speeding her hips up. "You feel so good against me, angel." She said in a breathy moan.

With one final thrust, Rhea came with a quiet whine. My orgasm came right after hers, and she continued to grind her hips, helping us both ride them out. Once we both finally calmed down, she got off of me and rolled to lay next to me, kissing my cheeks.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hello!! I'm always looking for fics where Stiles doesn't think he's pack (or is told he isn't pack) until the group tells him how much they care about him. Got anything like that?

Here you go @talldren!

Cuddle Me Pack by AlexTheShipper

(1/1 I 2,540 I General I Sterek)

The pack realizes they have been injuring Stiles on accident, and completely stop touching him to avoid the problem. Stiles is left touch starved and lonely, and feels he's no longer part of the pack.

Welcome to Your Life (There's No Turning Back) by KilledTheQueen

(1/1 I 17,744 I Explicit I Sterek)

The plane banks left and Stiles peers through the small oval window just catching a glimpse of the LA Skyline. He’s home. Well, not home, but in his country of origin at least, in his home state, just a three hour drive to Beacon Hills, to his home and Scott. It’s been over a year since Stiles sat in his home room and listened to a rep from a foreign exchange program wax poetically about the benefits of experiencing life in another country. At the time he’d brushed it off with a ‘hey that sounds amazing but I’ve got hunters and werewolves to deal with’ but then there were EVENTS that took place and one month later Stiles found himself on a plane to London. It’s been sixteen months since he’s has set foot on American soil and all in all Stiles thinks it should feel weirder when he steps off the plane and into LAX.

Flat Tires & Subtle Hugs by XAnima_Bellax

(6/6 I 13,045 I Teen I Sterek)

When Scott and his mom moves away, Stiles stops hanging with the pack. He'd rather be on his own than hang around a pack that isn't his. Everything is fine, except his tires keep ending up flat and random people seem to be hugging him.

Needed by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

(6/6 I 16,865 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles knows he doesn't bring anything to the pack, but if that's true, why does Derek come to him for help?

Pulling the Pieces Together by fireflystiles (cuddlehazz)

(1/1 I 34,295 I Teen I Sterek)

“You never have hurt anyone. Not then and not now. You just made Coach piss his pants and that’s funny shit there.” Jackson told Stiles. They all underestimated how responsible Stiles felt for the Nogitsune and what happened. No wonder he was afraid to go near the pack, not to mention the whole no control over magic thing. He felt Stiles huff out a breath at the part about Coach which was a good start.

Or after the Nogitsune, Stiles keeps secrets, there are new people in Beacon Hills, and the Pack has fallen apart. Stiles starts to figure out his role in the pack, piecing it back together, and trying to keep everyone safe.

[frudoo]

If we get Bo hcs, can we also get Vincent hcs👀

YES!!! YOU CAN!! God these men make me not hate my home state so much (Louisiana babeyy)

Warnings: Vinnie uses ASL of course! NSFW below the cut. GN reader!

• Vincent is super touchy, but not really in a possessive way, more like a ‘making sure you really exist’ kind of way. Sweet boy finds it hard to believe that someone like you can really love him.

• He rarely wears his mask around you anymore, if he can help it. He hadn’t realized how miserable it was to constantly cover his face until you tried it on, and suddenly it seemed more like a burden than a tool.

• If you thought this man did a ton of art before, you wouldn’t believe the amount he does now that the two of you are in a relationship. He’s constantly working on something—whether it’s something modeled off of you that he displays in the museum, or a little figurine of your favorite animal he gifts to you, he’s always keeping busy, and he makes sure you’re by his side for most of it.

• Vincent is a music lover through and through. Classic rock, opera, orchestral, nu-metal, grunge, he adores it all. He taught himself how to play viola and even composes pieces when he’s not focusing on his art.

• He LOVES Halloween. He makes his own costumes (and yours, if you let him) and decorates the entire house + museum with orange, green, black and purple items, whether he creates them or steals niche things from his victims. Also the #1 Best Pumpkin Carver on the planet.

• Vincent is a super fast talker—or, signer, if you will. Sometimes you have to grab his wrists to get him to slow down in order for you to understand what he’s trying to say, otherwise all you see is a flurry of hands. He’s just such a passionate, expressive person, and when he can’t show it on his face, he explains with his words.

• I can see Vincent as a switch, really. Typically, he loves when you’re in control, but sometimes he likes to be the one taking charge, maybe after a particularly difficult victim pisses him off and he needs to let off some steam.

• 100%, most definitely, absolutely has a praise kink. He loves to be told that he’s doing something right, adores when you call him your good boy, damn near cums in his pants when you cup his face in your hands and tell him what a good job he did.

• This is probably a given, but wax play—giving or receiving. He’ll specifically ask you to drip the hot wax over his sensitive nipples or around his navel, down to his v-line but never quite reaching his cock. On you, he prefers to pour it onto your lower back and watch it drip down the curve of your spine as you arch, or he’ll pour some onto your neck to let it dribble down your chest and onto your own nipples.

• Vincent is a lot more vocal in bed than in everyday life. He constantly whimpers when you’re on top, gentle rasps of please or more escaping from his raw throat. He’s more of a grunter when he’s the one in control, but in either scenario, he always cums with a croak of your name followed by a prolonged whine.

• He loves to be cared for after sex. He’ll rest his head on your cushy chest while you run your fingers through his hair, talking to him about random things or telling him how amazing he was for you. He just finds your voice so soothing.

• Usually a second or third round commences if he’s up to it! He’ll more than likely make you do all the work, though.

[being-addie]

The Glow Up Game

Part One: Pretty on the Outside

A comprehensive guide to getting your shit together. You heard me. We are done standing on the sidelines, looking at people living their dream lives being rich and hot and happy. WE'RE DONE.

This is a long guide, filled with pointers covering EVERYTHING regarding physical glow-ups. I'll be editing it and reblogging it whenever I come across new ideas and information. It covers everything from head to toe. I mean this literally.

Note: This is for people who want to do glow up physically. It is totally your choice to do anything you want to/don't want to on this list. We live in a world full of unfair beauty standards, and instead of being angry about it, I'm going to exploit the hell out of it.

Are you ready to change yourself? Here we go.

The absolute basics: These are lifestyle changes you're going to implement. Non-negotiable.

Go exercise: Don't look at me like that. This isn't optional. Find a way to move your body so you like it and you're actually breaking a sweat. Leisurely walking on the treadmill does not count, half-hearted zumba does not count. Whatever you're doing, it has to make you SWEAT. A good figure is earned. Trust me when I say you'll feel better, and like what you see in the mirror.

Change your diet: Enough sugar. Toss the soda out, and chuck out your candy stash. You really don't need it. Craving something sweet? Make a batch of healthy, homemade dessert. Or have a piece of fruit. I'm not kidding when I say the kitchen is where you make the biggest lifestyle change. It will be HARD, but every McChicken you say no to, is good for your HEALTH. You want to live longer? Cut out the takeout and heavily processed foods.

Fix your sleep cycle: Sleep is so important, and I think people overlook it so much. All your hard work is wasted if you don't sleep well. Your skin will break out, and your body will refuse to change even if you exercise. SLEEP WELL. Create a nighttime routine and stick to it. Make sure you have at least 7 hours of sleep as a minimum.

Create a skincare routine: Take off your makeup every day. And have a good skincare routine. Cleanse, moisturize and apply whatever you usually do. Exfoliate twice a week and stop touching your face. I also drink an ABC smoothie (Apple+Beetroot+Carrot+Water). This does wonders.

Use sunscreen: I cannot stress this enough. Skin cancer is real, and it will get you if you don't wear sunscreen. Use something higher than SPF 50 and use it religiously. Make sure to get your earlobes, chest and back of your neck. Cover every inch of your skin that will be exposed to the sun.

Drink your water: 3 litres of water per day. You will be amazed at the results. Your skin will clear, your breath won't stink and you won't be dehydrated. This shit works, and there's a reason everyone recommends it. Drink your water.

Moving on to each itty-bitty detail.

Eyes: SLEEP. You want your eyes to look fresh? No pesky dark circles? Get your sleep cycle right. No more late nights. Hot girls sleep on time.

Nose: Those blackhead-looking things are natural, they're called sebaceous filaments. And, no you can't get rid of them. But you can minimize them. Cleanse, moisturize and exfoliate. Don't pick at your skin.

Lips: Don't bite them anymore, for God's sake. You're going to make sure they're chapped beyond belief. Use lip balm religiously and don't overuse lipstick. Your lips WILL get discoloured when you're older. Use a light lip tint, and lip balm/gloss.

Eyebrows: If you want to shape them, go to the hairdresser and get it done.

Facial hair: As someone with naturally dark, thick hair I have a lot of noticeable facial hair. I'm planning on getting it lasered soon. Find a way that works for you and is affordable.

Body hair: I have zero self-consciousness about my arm and leg hair, so I have no desire to shave or wax it. I do wax my underarms, because of ridiculously thick growth. Understand that this is a personal choice, and you do not have to do this if you're unwilling.

Nails: Keep them short or long, always filed and CLEAN. Do not let grime or dirt build-up underneath. Don't keep your nails painted 24/7, it will 100% lead to yellowing. Give your nails some time to breathe between every manicure. When they aren't painted, keep them filed and presentable.

Hair: I have Type 3a curly hair, so my hair routine is tailored to suit me. But what I can tell you is wash your hair at least 1x a week, use sun protectant, and oil your hair before wash day(it works). And use heat on your hair SPARINGLY. If you want to colour you can, but remember it does lead to long term damage, brittleness and bad texture. Get your hair cut every 3-4 months with a trusted hairdresser. Keep switching up hairstyles and do not stick to a single part (middle part, side part) constantly because it can lead to thinning of hair there.

Acne: STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE I am begging you. Touching your face with grimy hands is a recipe for acne. Cleanse everyday, moisturize heavily and go to a dermatologist if it gets worse.

THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED

Go live your best life. You deserve everything, and you shouldn't let anything stand in your way, not even yourself. Now GO, you've got shit to do.

xoxo

[propertyofyoutube]

So here’s my idea! Sam x Colby x Reader but with temperature play!!

My vision is Sam and Colby both being on the dom side and reader being sub and one of them uses/chooses something really cold like using ice and the other using something hot like wax play candles and they use them at the same time on the reader and its just pure love and smut and filth with maybe a sprinkle of after care?(the reader may go into sub drop???) (Also I kinda imagined her tied up to kinda intensify the sensations but she doesn’t have to be at all!)

Im sorry if this is to specific! I just love your writing and think you would do amazing with this! (Ps if you want not Sam x Colby x Reader requests I have SOOOO many ideas and could send as many as you would like 😂😂)

Tap once for no, twice for yes - EXPLICIT

Summary: Sam and Colby never competed for your love, never once made you feel like one was better than the other. One day, you decided to tease them, whilst they were both not home on separate outings. After sending them saucy photos, you made it officially a competition.

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+, dom!sam, dom!colby, sub!reader. Temperature play, hot wax, ice cubes, READER GOES INTO SUB!SPACE, squirting, slut, whore, princess, baby, swallowing, oral, rough sex, restraints, vibrator, overwhelming multiple orgasms. PURE FILTH! Aftercare.

Not edited. Requests open!

Authors note: I hope you like this! I will be doing a part 2 to this request, where reader goes into sub!drop and uses her safe word. I didn’t want to go too hard/negative for the first story in this book… follow to keep up!

Tumblr:propertyofyoutube

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You sighed as you tossed over in your bed. As you picked up your phone it was only 2:30pm. “Ugh!” You groaned as you tossed once more. 4 more hours until Colby was due home and god knows how long until Sam. It was Saturday, which meant business meetings, personal meetings and so much more. But for you, a Saturday was a day off. You hated Saturdays… but you loved Saturday nights. That moment, Sam and Colby returned home, having missed you as always, and making up for the lost time in every sensual way possible.

As you thought about what you had coming later on, your thighs pressed tightly together, thinking about the basement. Damn, to YouTube their basement was the react channel set, but on the other side of that camera was a sex dungeon. Imagine Christian Grey’s red room times one hundred.

Before you met Sam and Colby, you were what most people say “vanilla”. You hadn’t had many sexual partners who explored all areas in the world of intimacy and pleasure. Once you and the boys became an agreed throuple, Colby wasted no time to introduce you to all new levels of passion. And once Sam got a taste, he couldn’t resist seeing you, obeying their demands, on your knees ready for whatever they wish. You could almost feel their hands tracing your curves, your toes curling as they brought you closer to each and every orgasm.

Suddenly your eyes snapped open, bringing you back to reality. “Fuck.” You breathed out as you felt your body desperate for them, for whatever they had in store for you. Your phone suddenly dinged as you looked down at the text message that flashed on your screen in the group chat named, ‘Our girl’.

Colbs🖤: hey baby, how’s your day going?

You began typing out instantly: it’s okay, I just can’t wait for you to-… Your frown quickly turned to a mischievous smirk as you had a bright idea. You held tightly on the back button as the message quickly disappeared. You jumped out of bed running to your dresser. As you pulled on the top drawer, your eyes fell wide as the range of the hottest lingerie sets. You fumbled through the sets and one pieces until landing on the brand new, laced corset top and matching panties. “Bingo.” You said as you chuckled to yourself. You quickly changed into the beautiful set and you couldn’t lie, you looked fucking hot. You bit your lip as you replied,

You: how long will you both be?

Colby’s typing bubble made your stomach flip in excitement. This was a risky move you were about to pull, this was punishment material. But you couldn’t wait to crumble at their touch.

Colbs🖤: I’m not sure baby… why what’s wrong? Is everything okay?

You smirked, trying to think of the best way to get them home. You walk over to your full length mirror, lowering down onto your knees. You begin to type,

You: I’m just trying my best to resist going down to the basement…

You bit your lip in anticipation as you awaited his reply, or Sam’s. It was less than a minute before Colby’s message appeared.

Colbs🖤: fuck… someone’s horny😂

You chuckled as you read his text, but before you could start type out another message came through.

Sammy❤️: wait, what’s happening?

You giggled as you definitely had both of their attention.

Sammy❤️: don’t you dare go to that basement without us, y/n.

You bit your lip, it was working, and only after one message. You sat back as Colby continued, you admired the way Sam and Colby never fought over you, for love, for sex, for anything.

Colbs🖤: agreed. Don’t y/n, or there will be consequences when we get home.

You rolled your eyes, truly not giving a fuck how badly they gave it to you. You quickly positioned yourself in the mirror as you snapped a photo. You attached the saucy picture of you in your sexy set.

You: either one, or both of you, get home now or I’ll sort myself out…😏

You waited in anticipation as both of their typing bubbles popped up. The messages instantly came through within seconds of each other.

Sammy❤️: y/n what are you doing… I’m in a meeting with the merch team.

Colbs🖤: fuck, you take that off right now. I’m in line to get some lunch.

You giggle to yourself, as you removed the corset, placing your arm across your breasts, taking another photo.

You: okay baby, it’s off😉 fine if you’d rather eat that lunch. Stay there.

You teased knowing Colby hated when you tried to boss him around. As you began typing a reply to Sam, you knew exactly what would get them both.

You: please Sammy, please come home. I need you to feel for yourself, just how soaked I am… 🥺

You waited, as Colby’s bubbles popped up first.

Colbs🖤: I know what you’re trying to do y/n…😒

Sammy❤️: baby… I wish I could, but I don’t think I can get out of this one. Believe me, I want to… so badly😢

You sighed loudly, you had to go further. They needed more convincing.

You: I usually wait for you both, everyday… but if one of you doesn’t get home in the next 20 minutes, I’ll quick frankly make myself cum

You quickly ran to the basement, your need for them intensifying every second. Before they could reply you took a photo of the large 4 poster bed, covered in satin sheets.

You: first one home gets to do whatever the fuck they want to me 😏

A couple of minutes passed and you knew that they were probably on the phone discussing the situation. They never competed.

Colbs🖤: fuck Sam, she’s done it now… you’ve been very bad y/n. You better have yourself on your knees, waiting for us.

Sammy❤️: we’re on our way. First one home gets to show you just how bad you’ve been…

Your eyes lit up in excitement.

You: yes sir.

You quickly headed back up the stairs to grab a lighter for the candles and an ice bucket, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and 3 glasses.

You had heard the front door open as you kneeled in front of the bed, facing your back to the door. Your long hair covering your bare back as you left yourself in just the lace panties. Your body tingled with excitement as you anxiously waited for who ever was about to walk through that door. Sam always went a little bit easier on you. You had them both wrapped around your finger, but you definitely knew Sam’s weak spots. He was easier to break than Colby. You knew you’d pushed them to their patient limits today and lowkey hoped Sam came first for the punishment.

“You’ve been very naughty, y/n.” Colby’s voice echoed through your ears as a smirk spread across your face.

“I would say I’m sorry… but I’m not.” You said cheekily.

“And now she’s back talking?” Sam said with a scoff of disbelief. Your eyes fell wide as you hadn’t heard the both of them arriving.

Colby smirked at Sam before slowly walking around to stand in front of you. Your eyes still facing forward, not looking up at him. Colby slowly placed his fingers below your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “You tried to make us compete for you, y/n… and that is our number one rule…” Colby said his voice low.

You tried so hard to fight back a smile, “I’m sorry…” you said softly.

Sam sighed from behind you, as you began to walk around to join Colby, “you can apologise by being a good girl for us… now get onto the bed and keep that pretty little mouth shut.” Sam said, his voice demanding and dominant, taking you by surprise. Damn, you really had pushed all their buttons. ‘Oh shit.’ You thought to yourself. You nodded before stand up and climbing onto the bed, sitting in the centre facing the boys who were now stripping down to their underwear.

“Lie down.” Colby demanded as you instantly laid your head back. Your heart beating a million miles per minute as you stared up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, both Sam and Colby appeared either side of you. Restraints in hand. “We had no control today…” Colby said with a slightly annoyed tone.

“I thinks it’s time we reimplemented who is in control here.” Sam continued as your body squirmed at their touch. You nodded slowly as they took one arm, and one leg each wrapping your wrists and ankles in the leather, strapping each of your limbs to a corner of the bed. You tried to close your legs, your thighs desperate to squeeze together as your panties grew even wetter, but it was no use.

Colby stood tall as he walked back up to your head, a red satin blindfold in hand, “you treat us differently.” He said softly as he placed the blindfold over your eyes. “Like we’re polar opposites.”

You swallowed hard full of a mixture of excitement and nerves.

“So I think we should show you, the effect polar opposites can have on you.” Sam said with a smirk.

Sam and Colby looked at each other before nodding with smiles. “What’s your safe word?” Colby asked as your breath shook.

“Red.” You whispered.

“Louder.” Sam said firmly sending shivers down your entire body.

You obeyed instantly, “red.” You spoke clearly.

“Good girl.” Sam said softly.

Colby picked up a candle from the dresser that you had lit. He walked over to the bed as Sam bit his lip, ready to watch the pleasure radiate through your body. “Sam… I think our little slut here needs her pussy eaten.” Colby said as Sam licked his lips. “She’s so desperate, look at her.” Sam couldn’t help but smile at your squirming body, stretched out across the bed as your knees tried their hardest to close.

“Always so desperate.” Sam said as he moved to the bottom of the bed, between your restrained legs. Sam looked up at your panties, he could see just how wet you were through the Lacey material. “Such a slut, you’ll do anything for us to fuck you senseless.” Sam smirked as he spoke watching how his words made your clit ache even more.

Colby leaned down by your head as he spoke softly, “do you want Sam to taste you, baby?” He asked. You nodded your head as Colby shook his, “words baby. Tell Sam exactly what you want.”

Sam’s hands suddenly touched your legs, as he slowly dragged them higher and higher, across your thigh towards your pelvis. “P- please Sammy. Please taste me.” You begged. You could feel your core pulsating at the thought of it.

Sam looked up at Colby from between your thighs as Colby nodded. Sam wasted no time, moving your panties to the side and connected his lips with your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue instantly.

Your back arched off the bed in pleasure, the feeling of Sam’s mouth working away on your core was like a dream.

“Fuck baby, you are soaked…” Sam groaned against your core as Colby licked his lips at how your body moved.

“You know those photos got me all hot baby…” Colby said looking at the candle in his hand. “And you’re going to get just as hot and bothered as I was…” Colby bit his lip as Sam’s eyes looked up at him, his mouth still devouring you. “Remember to use your safe word if you need to.” Colby reminded us as suddenly he tilted the candle over your torso. The hot wax hitting your skin as you moaned louder, a string of curse words leaving your mouth. You felt a knot in your stomach as the hot wax trailed down your body and Sam’s tongue entered your core.

“Fuck!” You cried out as Colby looked down on you and Sam gripped your hips, holding you in place.

“You thought you were so smart to tease us…” Colby grunted as he continued to pour once again, “using your body like a little whore.” His voice sent you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you full speed as you suddenly covered Sam’s face in your juices.

“Fuck baby…” Sam gasped as he sucked you up, “little warning next time?”

You breathed heavily as your heart beat strong and your body shook uncontrollably, “I’m-I’m so sorry.” You moaned out.

“You will be…” Colby grunted as Sam stood up from between your legs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” Colby said, his voice even lower as his hard cock was finally freed from his boxers.

Colby didn’t give you a chance to recover, he wanted to take out his frustrations in the best way he knew how to, making you cum, again… and again… and again. Colby lined himself up, hovering above you. He suddenly pushed himself deep inside of you as you cried out. “Fuck Colby!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head beneath the blindfold as your stomach was in knots once again.

Sam walked over to the ice bucket with the champagne, taking out 2 ice cubes. “After all that wax, you must be a little hot there baby…” Sam said with a smirk. Colby groaned loudly as he fucked you. You could hardly take in what Sam was saying as Colby hit your g-spot with his dick every time he pushed deep inside of you.

Sam climbed up onto the bed after removing his boxers, positioning himself up near your head. As Colby pounded into you, Sam took the two ice cubes as your body froze as the two ice cubes were placed on your nipples. “Oh shit!” You cried out, your back arching once again. Sam began to move around your chest, the ice leaving freezing cold trails of water.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good.” Colby groaned as his face scrunched from the pleasure of your walls wrapped around him. He suddenly sat up slightly, positioning himself so he could continue to fuck you whilst grabbing the candle.

“If you’re going to treat us like opposites, then we’re going to treat you with opposites.” Sam breathed heavily as Colby bit his lip starting to pour some of the hot wax once again. The feeling of both the hot and cold touching your body was sending your senses into overdrive, your head becoming lightheaded with pleasure as you moaned louder.

Suddenly you felt that knot about to explode, “fuck… I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, trying to give them warning this time.

Sam suddenly leaned down, the ice pressed back onto your nipples as the hot wax trickled down your stomach, “cum baby. That’s our good girl.”

“Fuckkkk.” You groaned as you came once again, your body exploding into a whole new world of ecstasy.

“That’s it baby.” Colby groaned louder, but he didn’t stop, he continued to pound into you at a strong pace, not allowing you a second to cool down. “Now be a good girl and open up for Sam.” Colby demanded as you parted your lips. You could cry from the feeling they were giving you, the pleasure, the passion, the overwhelming mix of emotions.

Sam positioned his cock against your lips, “wider.” He said his voice horse. You quickly dropped your jaw as Sam pushed the head of his cock into your mouth, “fuck, princess.” He moaned.

Colby watched as Sam began to fuck your mouth as you continued to get thrusted into by him. “God she’s such a slut for us Sam” Colby said between moans.

“She’s our slut… our girl.” Sam moaned as he pushed his cock further into your mouth hitting the back of your throat.

Colby threw the candle aside as he picked up a vibrator that rested on the edge of the bed. He turned it on full whack immediately as he quickly put it against your throbbing clit. You moaned louder against Sam’s cock as he threw his head back from the feeling. Out of nowhere a surprise orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks as you squirted all over Colby's cock. He pulled out for a moment as you sprayed him and covered the sheets, leaving a puddle.

“Fuck baby girl.” Colby said as he breathed heavily, his eyes wide at the sight. He suddenly re-entered you as he began thrusting harder and faster than ever, the vibrator instantly back in place. Your body was exhausted, you were afraid of how much more it could take.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum… and you’re going to swallow every bit.” Sam said as he ran his fingers into your hair. You nodded slowly, hardly able to move from the lack of control on your body.

“Me too.” Colby grunted louder as he pounded fast. “One more time baby, you can do it.” He said as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit. You felt as you walls clenched around Colby once again, your back arching off the bed as Sam leaned across and grabbed a handful of ice cubes, dropping them all onto your body as you cried out louder.

Sam twitched in your mouth, “fuck…” he ground as he suddenly came filling up your through with his hot cum. He pulled out slowly as you lifted your head slightly to swallow. “That’s a good girl.” Suddenly your body was once again filled with pleasure from head to toe, your entrance begging for some relief, for a break as you came once again.

“Fuck Colby! Cum… please cum!” You cried out. As Colby looked up at your scrunched up face.

“You got it princess.” He grunted as he pounded deeper into you one last time fucking you harder than ever, he was right, there was no way you were going to be able to walk. “Fuck y/n.” He shouted as he pulled out spilling his cum all over your lower stomach.

Everything went silent. Apart from the sounds of you all panting. Sam instantly jumped off the bed, grabbing a towel to clean you off. You couldn’t help it, you completely disappeared, reverting into sub space. Your mind escaping to a place of quiet, happiness and calm. Your body lay still, your heart pounding. “Are you okay baby?” Sam said but you didn’t respond. He looked at Colby, they both knew exactly what was happening before they both jumped into action unbuckling the restraints and your body was completely limp.

Colby kneeled next to you on the bed, taking the blindfold off slowly, “baby?” He said softly, but your eyes looked as though you were no longer there. He looked up at Sam, this has happened before but it never worries them any less.

Sam crouched the other side as he took your hand, “y/n… y/n can you hear me? Tap once for no, twice for yes.” He said concerned.

Suddenly he felt two small taps on his hand from your index finger. They both sighed in relief. Colby reached up to stroke your hair as he used his other hand to take yours. “Do you want us to take you upstairs, princess?” He smiled as he felt two small taps on his hand.

Sam jumped up, grabbing a blanket as he wrapped it around you, your whole body no longer in action. Inside your mind, you knew what was happening but it was as though you completely disconnected from your body. Colby picked up, bridal style, the blanket wrapped rightly around you. He walked you up to your bedroom, he slowly lowered you to the bed, beneath the covers. “Do you want us to leave you baby?” He asked reluctantly as he knew sometimes you preferred to be alone when you went into subspace. Suddenly he felt a small tap on his hand. No, thank god. Colby climbed into bed with you, as Sam entered the room, water and food in hand ready for when you came back to them. Colby place you on his chest as Sam climbed in the bed on the other side of you. He leaned down kissing your cheek.

“Do you still love us, baby?” He said with a smirk as he always did when this happened, he chuckled as he felt two taps. “Good.” He kissed you once more before sitting against the headboard as Colby did, your hand held tightly in his.

“Take your time baby…” Colby whispered, “we’ll be here when you’re ready.” He kissed the top of your head as you tapped the both of them twice. Sam and Colby looked at each other with a sigh, as even though you loved the sex you all had, they always felt guilty when this happened. No matter how many times you tell them it’s not their fault.

Sam picked up the remote control as he headed onto Netflix and began to play your comfort movie. Both of them holding tightly onto your hands as your head lay comfortably on Colby’s chest. “We love you.” Colby said, honestly.

“So much.” Sam added as you tapped them both twice. You laid there, allowing your body to relax ready for you to come back to reality.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

[shadeysprings]

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more. 

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before. 

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand. 

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer. 

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence. 

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it. 

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?” 

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him. 

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait. 

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth. 

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.” 

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention. 

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh. 

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up. 

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips. 

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling. 

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are. 

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other. 

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project? 

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out. 

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you. 

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t. 

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue. 

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss. 

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss. 

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head. 

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them. 

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further. 

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste. 

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core. 

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue. 

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit. 

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside. 

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge. 

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat. 

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss. 

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note. 

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all. 

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier. 

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship. 

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather. 

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery. 

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head. 

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel. 

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head. 

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room. 

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture. 

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him. 

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face. 

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you. 

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck. 

“Dance with me.” 

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head. 

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week. 

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore. 

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier. 

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you. 

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die. 

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins. 

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark. 

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him. 

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him. 

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before. 

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Imitate Hoid

As requested by anon :)

I recently fulfilled another anon's request about Hoid imitating various Cosmere characters. This, I suppose, is a sort of sequel: now other characters must imitate Hoid. But don't worry! Hoid himself (or sometimes Design) is here to help.

[It's Hoid. There's SPOILERS for like every book in here but I'll mark which book is involved in case that helps]

1. [From Mistborn Era 1] Vin imitates "informant Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar informant! Hoid: One: look kinda gross. That way, people won't pay too much attention to you. Hoid: Two: pretend to have bad eyesight, so that they won't worry that you're paying too much attention to them. But don't pretend TOO hard, so that if they catch on to the fact that you're just acting, they'll feel superior and lower their guard. Hoid: Three: have actually good information so that you can push the pieces exaaactly where they need to go. Hoid: Any questions? Vin: Do you realize that I literally lived on the street for years? Hoid: Yes, yes, so you actually know how to BE a beggar, but do you know how to pretend to be a beggar? That's a much different thing! Vin: I understand why Kelsier steered me away from you.

2. [From Mistborn Era 2] Wax imitates "beggar Hoid"

Wax: I'm sorry; I have to drink WHAT? Hoid: Oh, so you'll drink metal-infused-whiskey all the time but you draw the line at drinking a little perfume? Wax: ... Wax: Yes?????

3. [From Stormlight] Kaladin imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Kaladin (in his best "Wit" voice): Do not fret young man--you may be hopeless and depressed, but I will tell you a story and that will fix everything! Kaladin: And by "tell you a story" I mean that you'll tell ME a story because you'll have to fill in my blanks like every three seconds! Kaladin: Oh and also! Here's an instrument you don't play. Don't lose it or else I'll guilt you about it later! Hoid: Hmmm...not a bad start, but it lacks...subtlety. Hoid: ...Also that was a really nice flute, you know.

4. [From Warbreaker] Siri imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Siri (throwing an enormous amount of colored sand into the air]: Whooosh! COLOR SAND Siri: [grins] How'd I do? Hoid [very serious, with colored sand plinking down onto his head]: So...that was the main takeaway, Princess? Susebron [clapping delightedly]: You're an amazing storyteller!!

5. [From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter] Painter imitates "coatrack Hoid"

Painter: So I just...lurk in the darkness over here? Perfectly still and brooding? I can do that. Design: Weeellll....it's not really "lurking" so much as "standing still while people put coats on you" and it's not "darkness" so much as it's "well lit so that people can find their coats." Painter: Can I at least strike an intimidating pose? Design: No, that's not really in the spirit of things. Hoid looked more "vaguely surprised." Painter: So I just stand there while people treat me as an inanimate object? Design: Yes! Exactly! Now just imagine that you're TRAPPED like that and try exude a sort of "sad but philosophic resignation." While also holding these coats. Yes! You're doing GREAT! Hoid: ...I thought this would help me see the humor in things but honestly I'm getting even more depressed.

6. [From Tress of the Emerald Sea] Tress imitates "cursed Hoid"

Tress (wearing the most ridiculous outfit she could find): It's me! Cabin boy Hoid! Tress: I may be wearing shoes on my hands, but I am actually trying really hard in my own way to achieve my own goals and help you achieve yours! Tress: No curse can steal from me my ability to make it through with the help of my new friends! Tress (in her regular voice): How'd I do?? Hoid (slightly choked up): F-Fine...

7. [From Elantris] Sarene imitates "beggar Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar! Sarene: You don't need to continue. It's obvious. Sarene: One: look gross so that people don't dare look at you too carefully. Sarene: Two: affect a harmless air--perhaps seem slightly mad or slightly blind--so that people will not worry that you might turn them in or otherwise betray them. Sarene: Three: position yourself so that you can achieve whatever aims you have in pretending to be a beggar in the first place. Sarene: How did I do? Hoid: I KNEW I liked you!

8. [From Secret History] Kelsier imitates "corpse-rafting Hoid"

Kelsier (singing in a mockingly off-tune way): Oh I'm float-float-floating on a coooorpse! Kelsier: Off to bully a ghooooost! Kelsier (in a normal voice): Wow! That ghost guy over there looks like he's having the absolute worst day of his life! Kelsier: I think I'll make it worse! Hoid: I'm not sure corpse/ghost could even be called a slant rhyme. Hoid: And in point of fact, I wasn't coming TO bully you; that was just a little side bonus that occurred by chance. Hoid: So I think your song is slightly misleading, and also bad. Kelsier: ...I can't wait until I have a body again so that I can punch you.

[sage-nebula]

You know, it's never talked about, but Mabel is demonstrably an artistic prodigy.

I think it's a bit of truth in television that her artistic prowess is completely dismissed / undervalued in comparison to the logical intelligence that Dipper presents, but nonetheless, the artistic and crafting feats that Mabel pulls off in the show are nothing short of amazing. Of course, she's not gifted in all areas (her drawings are just okay), but in others?

Mabel hand knits all of her own sweaters, as well as sweaters for other people, animals, and magical beings. She can start and finish a sweater in a single day (perhaps even multiple sweaters, as seen in Weirdmageddon 3). Not only that, but while we mostly see her with balls of yarn, we also know that she can knit using a variety of materials; in the end tag for "Headhunters" when Mabel is trying to choose between two sweaters, she says that the llama sweater (yes, the one that is eventually given to Pacifica) is made from llama hair. Mabel is twelve years old, and she can not only knit sweaters from a standard material at a rate comparable with a machine, but she can also knit llama hair sweaters, too. The girl has a gift.

And speaking of "Headhunters"!

In "Headhunters", we learn that Stan once had a wax museum at the Mystery Shack, and also that his wax statue of Abraham Lincoln melted in the sun. Mabel ends up building a wax figure of Stan out of the melted wax. A couple things of note:

It was old wax that had already melted who knows how long ago, possibly cooled, and then melted again . . . to be fair I know fuck all about working with wax, but I can't imagine that wax was in the best shape.

Even assuming that it was in the best shape, on her very first try Mabel created a wax figure of Stan that was so accurate that he screamed, leaped away from it, and formed an attachment to it, possibly because it reminded him of his twin brother. The murderer in the episode also mistook it for the real Stan.

I repeat: this was Mabel's FIRST TRY, and it was THAT PERFECT.

Mabel is TWELVE.

Mabel is often dismissed, both in the show and out of it, because she's silly, has an active imagination, and is girly and likes girly things. But she has a serious artistic gift. The girl is a prodigy! Sure, she's not a scientific genius, but who needs to be when you can outfit an entire town for funsies in a day and make immaculate sculptures like it's nothing?

What I'm saying is: when Mabel graduates high school, she's going to art school on a full ride scholarship, where she'll hone her craft to have art shows and galleries and make art pieces that'll change the world and stand the test of time.

Or at least, that's the dream . . .

[madlittlecriminal]

[02] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

y'all, im sorry. i was sick. im back now though, so hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mention of losing sleep, mentions of dana, mention of brothels, mentions of exotic dancer clubs

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Miguel lost sleep that week.

The fact that you were the owner of the bakery he had his eye on was upsetting. Even though he still had to get to know you, he wasn't sure if he could if there was a possibility of falling in love with you and he wasn't sure if he was ready to risk it. Obviously, there were other reasons why his relationship with Dana ended. It was true that he didn't want her to have control over his club, but it stemmed from more than just business partnership.

Dana wanted to be the owner because she wanted to change things and he didn't want that. She wanted to make it into a brothel, but he didn't want that. Not only did he already have exotic dancers at their own clubs that catered to all genders since he preferred being inclusive, but he also hated thinking of how some men are gross and just disrespectful. In his clubs, he had strict rules, and he knew Dana wouldn't have enforced those rules; he didn't want it to come bite him in the ass.

This was different though.

You were different.

He felt weird, going to the club earlier just to get the chance to see you.

He hasn't stepped foot in your bakery since he met you. Lyla and Jess have been on his ass about meeting you again. They couldn't understand why their boss was being weird about a woman, but Peter did.

Miguel had a conversation with Peter which helped him out a little, but he wouldn't admit it to his face; he had to push his shy boy out the way in order to talk to you, but he didn't know how.

So, he decided to pay you a visit on his day off at Alchemax.

You were dealing with a girl who was currently doing cake testing for her quince (sweet 15) which made him smile softly when you gave her a piece of Neapolitan cake since she couldn't decide between chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.

"This is the alternative if you don't want to do separate layers of cake." You say, making Miguel's body tingle with heat as red painted his cheeks.

He quickly concluded that he could listen to you talk for hours.

"It's amazing!" The fourteen-year-old jumped a little after swallowing the piece of cake, making you smile.

"I'm glad you like it." You look up and give Miguel a grin, making his legs shake slightly.

"We'll take this one." Her father said with a grin while ruffling his daughter's hair and pulling out his wallet.

"Great! When do you need it by?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you look between the mother, the father and the daughter.

"About four months from now. It's the last thing we need."

You nod, giving them the price of the deposit and taking the list of cake ideas from the girl before bidding goodbye.

When they left, your eyes met Miguel's again, making his heart race.

"How can I help you?" You scan him quickly, taking note of his leather jacket, the white shirt that peaked from underneath it along with his black jeans and the same ruby colored sunglasses from your first encounter.

He gives you a shy smile before looking at the desserts, biting the inside of this cheek. "Surprise me."

You raise a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

He nods.

"You hardly know me and you're trusting me to surprise you with a dessert?"

He nods again.

"What if I poison you?" You joke.

"Querida, if you wanted to poison me, you would've done it when we first met." He states. (Darling/Dear)

You blink up at him before opening your mouth to say something, closing it and repeating the process once more before turning your back and grabbing gloves, a wax tissue sheet along with a paper bag and making your way to the kitchen.

His face goes red with embarrassment as he looks at the ground. He makes his foot graze your tiles like a child embarrassed or shy to ask a question. However, he noticed one of your tiles were cracked and another that was actually missing.

"Ah, don't mind the floor. It happened two days ago." You rest the bag on the counter that contained a few pieces of tamriyeh that you just finished preparing.

"How?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"A woman stomped her bulky heels on the cracked one and she kicked the other when she saw it was loose." You explain with a shrug before giving him the total.

He raises a brow before giving you $10. "Why did she do that?"

You snicker. "She was annoyed I got her order wrong, telling me I was a fake baker because my treats weren't as good as her mother in law's desserts, but I never advertised them to be better."

He rolls his eyes at the ignorance of the woman and takes the bag. "Thank you. Keep the change and don't worry about the receipt."

You sigh. "Are you ever going to ask for the change or the receipt?"

"Probably not. Have a good day and stay safe." He walks out, leaving you stunned.

"When I catch you, Ruby..." You say softly as you watch his tall figure walk away with a glare before taking the receipt and putting it away and putting the cash in the register.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana

*if you do not get the notification, i put the link of your blogs because it wasn't allowing me to tag you.

[novvaable]

Hey again! Hope you don’t mind me asking another question. So I was wondering what are your must haves for when building a house? Like lights, specific furniture pieces that are your go to or something like that if that makes sense? Thanks! ❤️🫶

I went a little rouge when it came to answering this ask - there are SO many items of cc I love and so many creators that create amazing content, it’s hard to sit and list to every single thing.

I figured it would be best to showcase cc I use frequently within my builds; it helps to highlight which creators cc I tend to use most!

novvvas rahat set - table lamp converted by martassimsbook

charly pancakes - the candle converted by twinsimming

hydra small bookshelf by hydrangeachainsaw

lexington painting frame by onxyium (tsr)

novvvas kirsal set - candles converted by martassimsbook

hydra tulips vase by hydrangeachainsaw

awingedllama blooming rooms plants converted by martassimsbook

decor slippers by leosims converted by simstiful

novvvas desino poster horizontal v1 converted by martassimsbook

mechtasims frog planter -converted by martassimsbook

smaller tulips 2t3 by kirthri (mts)

aria bed bench by mutske (tsr)

mojito home collection living room single chair & couch by cemre (tsr)

madison sofa blanket by onyxium (tsr)

ikea ypperlig pillows by mxims converted by over-waxed bannister

novvvas kirsal set part 3 sofa cushion converted by martassimsbook

hunt dining wall panel widow high by mutske (tsr)

bouquet of rose by pixelfrogslegs

novvvas rahat set - candle open converted by martassimsbook

meinkatz platform tray converted by martassimsbook

mxims ironica dining chair converted by gruesim

dining aria table 2x1 by mutske (tsr)

orinoko reed diffuser by gosik (tsr)

sunday-sims ceramic jars converted by martassimsbook

??

hydra ugly vase by hydrangeachainsaw

novvvas rahat set - leaning poster converted by martassimsbook

madison painting frame by onyxium (tsr)

novvvas decor set marta sculpture converted by martassimsbook

chicklet mid century modern bar converted by martassimsbook

syb laundry - drying rack folded converted by pixelrabbit

tantalum refrigerator - by wondymoon (tsr)

ballard kitchen counter by gosik (tsr)

ballard kitchen stove by gosik (tsr)

pot by BCS3 (?)

pinkboxdesigns spring 23 set lily of the valley converted by martaassimsbook

nordica-sims paper towel converted by martassimsbook

soloyria hibo decor set cutting boards converted by martassimsbook

akira mug rack by sim_man123 (tsr)

utensils by BCS3 (?)

soloyria hibo decor set two bowls converted by martassimsbook

wooden dish rack by ats3

I think this really highlights that I LOVE all @martassimsbook creations! the tsr can also be quite neglected due to annoying dl times - but again there’s a lot of creators with some really quality content.

it’s defo worth checking out @wanderingsimsfinds / @pis3update / @emilyccfinds / @katsujiiccfinds :)