#automatic noise removal

[kids-worldfun]

Optimizing Your Workflow with Denoise AI: Say Goodbye to Noise

The Importance of Denoising in Video Optimization When it comes to video production, noise can be a major issue that affects the overall quality of your content. Whether you’re filming in a busy street or a crowded room, unwanted noise can distract viewers and take away from the message you’re trying to convey. This is where denoising technology comes in to save the day. Denoising in video…

[valentinedagger]

when i was a child, once it had become obvious that spanking was considered gauche and extreme among their early-2000s drum-circle-attending hippie friends, my parents moved to a new default punishment: standing in the corner.

it was very simple. when told, i was to stand facing the corner, not moving, until i was told i could stop. in retrospect, the standard seemed to be to leave me until i had entirely stopped crying, then to start counting down some short, arbitrary block of time (maybe 5, 10 minutes) once i was silent and still. at the time, i didn't know this; the corner was a limbo state, it was a place i was suspended indefinitely til my parents considered me appropriate to deal with once again.

i wasn't to fidget, to sit down, make noises, sing or talk to myself. theoretically, i was supposed to "reflect on what i did wrong," although that never happened. i was, what, five? six?

frequently, i would get a cold, nauseating sensation that crept its way up my back. i would feel stiff and tense, the muscles in my neck and shoulders growing rigid, goosebumps prickling. i would feel as though i was being watched. i would sneak a peak over my shoulder at those times; when i saw i was alone, i would shift and stand on one foot for a bit, then the other, in order to take the weight off the other and ease some of my aches. sometimes i would start whispering to an imaginary friend, or lean against the wall. anything i knew i was not allowed to do, that i could immediately stop when i heard one of my parents approaching.

one specific time, i got that sensation. the creeping dread, the deep bonesickness of feeling watched. i snuck a peek over my shoulder.

my father had crept into my room, and was watching me silently.

"face the corner," he said.

i did.

almost as an afterthought, he told me i had earned myself more time.

the horror this evokes in me can't be described; it's a sheer, yawning precipice of paranoia, buttressed by the casual, uncaring authority of a parent-god, the architect of the childhood panopticon so utterly foreign, so removed from your world, that they not only do not, but cannot comprehend the pain and fear they're inflicting on you. my feet hurt. my legs hurt. my back ached. i was itchy and damp, utterly helpless, bound by rules i didn't understand and at the mercy of beings whose feelings and responses were utterly unpredictable and incomprehensible.

my father wanted to go play a video game.

i write a lot of horror that i don't think most people would automatically classify as "horror." most of it is an attempt to capture this feeling: the shaky, racing terror of survival without knowing the rules, the stakes, even the consequences. the understanding that anything could be a wrong move, that self-preservation can be punished. or it can be rewarded. or it can go entirely ignored. i want to capture that nauseating, paranoid dread and bottle it. every room is an escape room, the win conditions are up to the gamemaster, and he will change them. he always changes them.

maybe he's watching. maybe he went to the bathroom. maybe he forgot about you. you could always try looking over your shoulder to see.

[syn0vial]

yes, yes, boba fett finds it strange and uncomfortable when people can see his face and this is one of the major reasons he almost never removes his helmet (in the expanded universe anyway), but another factor that i think isn't explored nearly enough is just how much his helmet shapes how he sees the world. it grants him 360° vision, lets him interface with his weapon systems and slave I, and automatically dampens loud noises and dims bright lights. imagine going through the vast majority of your life seeing the world through that lens and then suddenly taking it away. removing his helmet for any significant length of time likely isn't just uncomfortable for him but downright disorienting.

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

masterlist | taglist: @pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI

this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant

Banner by @cafekitsune

>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.

You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.' 

It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight. 

Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him. 

The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot. 

When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.

You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.

Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -

And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."

"You look silly. You need to clean up."

"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"

But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.

You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left. 

"The bathroom over here?"

"Dirty girl, messy girl!"

"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'

It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.

John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.

In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat - 

Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.

Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.

"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.

Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"

John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.

"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"

"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."

John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."

And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."

The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.

You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared

Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."

When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."

You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.

"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?" 

John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -." 

"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot. 

***

When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.

It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you. 

Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult. 

(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers. 

You decide you're going to steal it right then.)

He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.

The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.

When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.

Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.

Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.

"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down. 

"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.

John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."

A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected. 

"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.

You've been there before.

"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."

Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular. 

John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."

Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.

A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.

"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.

John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.

It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre 

***

Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family. 

It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm. 

Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home. 

It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.

By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.

That fucking door.

"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.

"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."

It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.

He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.

"And Emily behaved?"

"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.

"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"

You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"

"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."

"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."

"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."

"But… Wait, I can bring him?"

"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."

"But that's clear across town?"

"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."

"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."

You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."

The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."

You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate." 

Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."

Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"

John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."

"Um. No. Thanks."

He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.

Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.

Like, extremely certain.

But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.

In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream. 

Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.

"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.

"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."

John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."

"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."

His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket. 

"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.

"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.

"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.

"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"

"Right. Um. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.

John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.

John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.

In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.

[thatsdemko]

without me? - l.norris

masterlist | pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the silence he enters to is odd… but was there ever really any silence?

warnings: smut + not intended for minors + no plot?

a/n: reminder this is 18+ content!!! I need some serious motivation to write smut so if anyone has any….

there’s a stillness to the room that he just can’t describe. like everything in his apartment looks so picturesque, the sun setting, a dimly lit lamp in the corner. the eery sound of quietness are odd against his ears.

the sounds of the rubber against the pavement, the whirling of drills and tools, the vibration of the car still keep his body in working mode. the endorphins swell his brain with happiness and serenity as he walks from the living room towards the bedroom.

that’s when he finally begins to hear noise.

at first it’s just the faint sound of the mattress squeaking, then, he as steps closer, he can begin to hear the headboard rattling against the wall. whatever he was feeling in his brain shot straight down to his cock and spread an aching in him.

he couldn’t stand behind this door any longer. finally pressing his palm into the knob, he pushes the door gently. his eyes are greeted with the best sight; you. legs apart, vibrator in hand, your hair sprawled across the pillow case, and the oh so sweet sounds of your whimpers are flooding his eardrums.

he can’t help it, the smile that spreads is cocky. you look pathetic and helpless, like something was clearly holding you back, and god he couldn’t wait to put you out of your misery.

you didn’t head the door open, and you certainly didn’t hear the drop of his bags, but you did feel his hand grasp yours and toss the vibrator to the side.

“lando,” you whimper softly. your eyes flutter open for a brief second, you see he’s removing his belt from his waist, and in his own eyes he has some sort of thirst and desire he can’t resist.

you don’t blame him, you’d been waiting for him. you spent all afternoon cleaning to erase your mind from the nasty thoughts you had about your boyfriend. you could still see the ass and hand prints against the shower glass, you could still recall how he fucked you until both of you came collapsing onto the floor.

every part of this house was haunted with some sort sexual memory, and you had attempted to clean it all awaiting to start new ones, but that wasn’t enough. after all that, you still felt unfulfilled. so enter the vibrator, and now, finally, there was lando.

lando’s hips grind against yours, his cock fitting nicely inside you, warmth radiates off of him. your back arches in an automatic response, your body molding up into his, he pushes you down. it’s not stern, but it wasn’t a gentle gesture either, it was still hot coming from him. possessiveness was something lando never lacked.

his thrusts become harder, nonsensical words fall from his lips that range from “I missed you” to “fucking wet” and none of them strung a proper sentence. you just allowed him to take you to the place you couldn’t quite get to with a mechanical toy, and you thank him with peppering kisses to his neck that you know you’ll get shit for tomorrow.

“never fucking do that without me.” he grunts rolling off your body to lay beside you. he takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back up, “the place is too clean.” he states.

nodding your head you turn in his direction, “do you want to mess it up again?”

“fuck yes.”

[monstersighing]

Frankenstein monster x Fem!reader

Uhhh, this is actually kinda sweet, but also horny.

NSFW, 18+, Minor Do Not Interact

Frankenstein's Monster/Creature x Fem Reader

Title: Home

Content: penetrative sex, masturbation.

+++

You find him in the forest. A man, but strange. He’s tall and broad. Covered with scars and stitches on the parts of him you can see under his dirty hooded cape. There are birds surrounding him that he is feeding with a piece of hardened bread, so he doesn’t notice you at first. When he does, he flinches and pulls his hood down.

He is huge and tall and hooded, but you are not afraid.

You coax him towards you with soft words. Promises of food and shelter. And he follows you home.

+++

He is gentle despite his size and hardly speaks.

When you ask his name, he doesn’t reply, so you call him Francis, after a statue of the saint you once saw with birds on his shoulders and little creatures at his feet.

Francis pulls pails of water from the well and chops firewood with an energy and strength that makes something turn over in your stomach. Sometimes, you see him looking at you from under his hood. His eyes are two different colours, and both are beautiful.

When you tell him that, Francis shakes his head, unbelieving, but you think you see a smile.

The next day, he leaves his hood down.

+++

One night, sat together in the glow of the fire, you ask Francis where he came from, where he was born.

“I was not born. My father, he made me. Out of many men.”

He looks at you then, as if waiting for your disgust and rejection.

“So, you are a miracle of science, then. How wonderful,” you reply.

The surprise on his face makes it light up. You think you would give him a thousand compliments if he would just look like that more often.

+++

It has been a long dirty day of planting in the fields, so you boil pans of water over the fire, empty them in the tub and sink into the water.

You can hear the rhythmic sound of wood being chopped. You think of Francis’s grating rusty voice, his muscular shoulders. You imagine what those shoulders would feel like under your hands. What your legs would feel like wrapped around his waist.

You are rubbing yourself dry when the door creaks. You turn automatically, and see Francis at the door, hand clenched on the handle.

You don’t cover yourself, just let him gaze at your nakedness.

You hear the crumple of metal as the door handle cracks in Francis’s hand and he bolts.

You dress quickly and run outside, wet hair running rivulets down the back of your neck.

You find Francis in the barn, on his knees. His eyes are closed, and he is biting down on one hand as he fucks his straining cock into the fist of the other. You watch: the heaviness of his cock, his clenched eyelids, the desperate twitches of his hips. He comes quickly, and cum spurts and dribbles over his hand. When he removes the other from his mouth, you see the marks of teeth there.

You must make a noise because Francis opens his eyes then and sees you.

His reaction is instantaneous, a pulling up of trousers as he leaps to his feet and pushes past you and out of the barn door.

You shout after him as he runs towards the forest, but he does not stop or turn to look at you.

+++

Francis does not come back that evening.

In the morning you go looking for him.

He’s in the clearing in the forest where you first saw him.

“Come home,” you say. “Come home with me.” You do not know how to tell him, and you do not know how to ask, so you rise on your toes, and pull him down by his cloak so you can kiss him.

Frencis’s kiss is uncertain, but when you coax your tongue into his mouth you can taste the berries that he must have eaten.

It starts to rain, and you grab his hand to run through the forest and across the fields back home.

Once inside your home, you notice that his cape has kept him dry, but your clothes are soaked. Your nipples are cold and hard.

You strip to nakedness under Francis’s gaze and place his mismatched hands - one broader, with callouses, the other with long fingers - on your breasts.  He kneads at them roughly, and you watch him spread his legs to accommodate his filling cock.

You splay your legs and show him how to finger your already leaking cunt. His eyes flick from your wetness to your face, his two different coloured eyes hungry.

“The bed,” you say.

He ignores you and pushes you down to the floor.

He’s still clothed and your legs are spread wide. He looks like he wants to devour you. He pushes his trousers down and pulls off his shirt with a rip of seams. There’s a neatly stitched incision on his chest, in the shape of a Y.

Then he lines up his cock with your cunt and pushes deep inside you with a grunt. You cry out at the feeling of fullness and he begins to thrust into you, each ferocious push feeling deeper than the last.

Your legs lock as far as you can over his back, holding him deep and your hands roam his skin, touching the rough stitches that joint his arms to his shoulders. Proof that this man was made of many men. Now just one, who wants you, desperately. Who is showing you with each jolting push of his cock inside you.

His thrusts ruck up the rug beneath you, and you brace your arms against the floor. The resistance pushes him deeper into you. He comes with a howl: satisfied, animalistic. You feel his come, warm and sticky, flood into you.

He rears back then, and with his cock still seated inside you, Francis presses a finger around the stretched rim of your cunt and then inside, crooking up, hard. The impossible stretch makes your walls flutter, your thighs clench and your back arch with your orgasm.

Francis watches as his cock softens, and then slips out of your cunt, come leaking from your entrance. You sigh at the absence until he splays over you, a heavy comforting weight, and you sleep.

[salvatwh0re]

I have officially mastered the void

So this morning (afternoon actually) i decided to tap into the void so I did the 61 points yoga nidra meditation with a subliminal. I didn’t really need the subliminal I was just using it cause my headphones are somewhat noise cancelling and my family was awake so I didn’t want to get distracted. But the meditation was really relaxing. At first I had some trouble staying focused but then I reminded myself why I was doing this and what I was doing it for. So it kept me motivated. After that i affirmed a little bit then I counted down from 100 and then I affirmed some more then I got bored of affirming so i started visualizing and then I got bored of that so I just decided to focus on the darkness behind my eyelids.

I never really took that advice from people when they said it helped cause I didn’t believe them but it actually worked. Out of everything else I did that was the one thing that sent me straight to the void. I think for the most part it was just letting go of that desperate feeling i always have when I try to enter. I always feel like I’m forcing myself to do it so I just let go and kind of forgot about what I was doing while still keeping that intention.

I was getting pretty anxious tho because of the time so I just got out but i did it again and it sent me straight to the void again. So now I know the secret to getting into the void is to just let go of that desperation and to stop forcing yourself, just let it happen. If you feel you’ve affirmed enough stop affirming, if you feel you’ve focused on your breathing enough, go back to your automatic breathing pattern STOP FORCING YOURSELF IT WILL GET YOU NOWHERE!!

and I know a lot of people stress about not being aware in the void and not affirming for your desires but stressing over that is exactly what’s going to make you forget tbh. When you let go of that desperation you let go of those other doubts too, those things that were stopping you from getting there in the first place. I feel like removing yourself from those thoughts is really effective in getting you what you want.

I will say it might help to have a list of things you want either written down or set in your mind because it will be a lot easier to remember what you’re going to affirm. When you’re in the void or even before you tap in completely you’re supposed to be super relaxed so it might be a little difficult to bring up those thoughts but because of how different the void is from the 3D it’s kind of hard to forget. Especially if you’ve been trying for a long time.

The void isn’t really something you question, you know for sure you’re in cause you can’t hear feel see taste or smell anything so it’s pretty identifiable. And because you’ve reminded yourself over and over that that’s what the void feels like, once you feel it you’re going to be like OHHH ok now i know to affirm for my desires. You’ve been training your brain to associate the void with your desires so of course once you recognize that you’re in you’re going to remember to affirm for your desires.

Also I don’t really like using the term void personally, but it’s what I learned it as. I feel like calling it the void just makes it sound so otherworldly and extraterrestrial and scary tbh. I think that’s what was holding me back as well, fear. I know that Neville Goddard refers to it as the I AM state which is a perfect name for it because it really is a state of just BEING like you’re not worried about anything else other than yourself and that’s the beauty of it. I would go on more cause there’s so much I can say but overall i hope you just let you go of that desperation so that you can finally push through and get everything you’ve been wanting because you deserve it.

[wbbwife]

Kind Of Caught

paring: kate martin x fem!reader

synopsis: reader and kate kind of get caught by jada

warning(s): smut (MINORS DNI)

word count: 731

“Baby hold on, there are other people in the apartment right now.” I say as Kate tries to take off my shorts. “It’s fine, you just have to be quiet and-“

“Me and you both know I cannot be quiet if I tried” I say. “Cmon baby I missed you so much since I was on the road, and I want to make up for lost time.” Says Kate as she looks up at me while kissing the inside of my thighs which makes my insides warm. “I swear this is the only time you’re ever going to convince me to do this.” She smirks proudly and bunches my panties and shorts together to pull them down. As soon as they come off my legs automatically spread.

“You’re so wet for me beautiful, I love it.” Kate says admiring my cunt. “Of course I am.” My breath picks up, anticipating the pleasure. “Just be quiet for me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” She takes a long lick, following up with a kiss to my bundle of nerves. “You taste so good my love, I wish I could eat you forever.” “I wish you would shut up and get to it before I change my mind.” “That’s how it is? Bet”

Kate immediately swirls her tongue around my clit, pushing two of her fingers into my cunt hastily, as I cry out.

“Fuckk, baby wait.” I plead; she laughs into my cunt, the vibrations intensifying the feeling. Kate smacks my thigh “You were talking all that shit can’t take it? Shut up before someone hears you.” “I’m sorry.” I choke out.

I close my eyes trying to focus on not alarming the people outside of her room. Fingers pumping in out my cunt, while her thumb rubs my clit skillfully. I feel a hand wrap around my throat feverishly. I pop open my eyes to see Kate giving me a warning glare. “You better keep your eyes open while I fuck you baby.”

I whimper, as tears start to fall from my face. “Pleaseee sss-loww down.” She smirks pausing her movement. “Whatever you want sweetheart.” Kate starts kissing my stomach slowly, runching my shirt up and taking it off of me. “I could never get tired of this view.” I blush hard, as I turn into the pillow next to me. “Let me see you beautiful.” Hovering over me, she turns my head to her and kisses me like she hasn’t seen me in months. I rub up and down her toned stomach, trying to tug her sweats down. She stops my hand. “I want this to be about you first love.” I mutter an “ok” letting my hand slip into her hair.

Kate bends down sucking on my neck, leaving a mark I know that’s going to be there for days. She kisses her way down to my breasts and swirls her tongue around my nipple needily, going back and forth between my breasts ensuring both get attention.

“Omggg Kate, that feels sooo good”

“Say my name again.” She whispers into my ear.

“Kateeee-“ A knock sounds at the door.

My whole body freezes but Kate is unbothered as she stuffs a finger into my cunt.

“Kate can I have my computer charger back, my MacBooks dying.” Jade says, wrestling with the door knob. “Why is the door locked?” She questions.

“Hold on give me a minute.” Kate shouts at the door, while removing her finger from inside me.

She opens her top drawer taking out a vibrator, setting it on my clit. I smack a hand over my mouth as waves of pleasure hit me fast.

“I’ll be back baby, be quiet” she says kissing my cheek.

Kate gets off the bed bending down to unplug Jades charger from the socket, rolling it up neatly. She walks over to the door, unlocking it and cracking it slightly so my whole body wasn’t visible, only my foot.

“Here you go” she says handing Jade her charger.

“Thanks but why was the door locked?”

Kate looks back at me smirking, “No reason.”

“Oh hell no, are you guys fucking in there.” Shouts Jade.

Kate laughs locking the door again, then walking back to me.

“Good girl, you didn’t make any noise, you deserve a reward.” She takes the vibrator off my clit and starts eating me out like she’s been starving.

[hitomisuzuya]

Can I have modern college AU Scaramouche x reader where they've been at their seperate homes for winter break, and now that they're both back at school they're extremely pent up? Like so down bad for the other and just straight smutty filth? 🫶🏻🫶🏻 Thank you

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Scaramouche giving and receiving. Praise. Degradation. Rough sex. College AU

This is filthy, really 😳 I'm trying to distract myself.. I may write the phone sex parts of this.

Scaramouche hated winter break. He didn't give a shit if it was the perfect excuse to be lazy and play video games for a week. He had to be away from you, and he despised it. Loathed it with every fiber of his being.

He spent long hours on the phone with you, his head resting against the headboard of his bed, his eyes closed while he fisted his cock listening to you describe how thoroughly would suck him off. Phone sex and sexting, as enjoyable as it was for him, could only do so much.

It drove him nearly insane listening to you moan while he instructed you on how to finger yourself while he described how he would eat you out until you cried, begging for him to impale you on his cock.

Scaramouche's hands and lips were demanding as he kicked the door of his dorm closed. His teeth bit at your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth and wrestling your tongue into easy submission. "I'm going to fucking ruin you," He growled, pushing you down onto your knees as he took out his cock.

Your eyes lingered on his cock before you looked up into his eyes. You were all too happy to suck him off exactly like you described on the phone. Your tongue darted out to prod at the slit, sweeping slowly over the precum already gathered at the flushed tip.

Scaramouche's hand automatically found the back of your head, rubbing his fingers affectionately against your scalp. "Fucking suck, needy slut," He groaned, his eyes rolling closed. You vibrated a moan on his cock as he pushed your mouth down.

Your throat felt heavenly convulsing around his cock as you coughed. He held your mouth down on his cock, whimpering with pent up need as his fingers tightened in your hair.

Scaramouche opened his eyes to watch his cock pump in and out of your mouth, holding your head in place. Your mouth made loud, wet noises as you sucked.

You drug air into your lungs as he pulled your mouth off of his cock, wiping your mouth with his thumb. "Over on the bed," He commanded, hastily removing his clothes.

Your bra and panties were promptly ripped off once he crawled on the bed. He smirked seeing the way you obediently spread your legs for him, your pussy wet and ready to devoured by him.

You let a gasp of pleasure as his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit. His mouth felt ravenous on your pussy, his tongue lapping hungrily like he was wolfing down his first meal in days. His lips latched greedily on your clit, making your legs shake as your hips bucked up into his mouth.

He moaned in bliss feeling your thighs close around his head, your fingernails digging into his scalp as you pushed his mouth down onto your cunt. As much as he would've liked to have made you cream hard on his tongue, he could devour your cunt as thoroughly as he described after he was finished.

Scaramouche craved to cum inside of you first. Giving your clit a few promising sucks that keened whimpers from your throat, he sat up. He didn't wipe his mouth before he kissed you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Start begging, slut," He smeared precum around your clit, enjoying the way you squirmed. Your desperate moans of need were exquisite.

"Please, Scara! Fuck me dumb, I need it," You pleaded, grinding against his cock. You whined as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance. "I..I missed you so much. You were all I could think about."

Scaramouche smirked seeing you start to fall apart before his cock was even inside of you. God, he'd missed you fucking much. He was going to enjoying breaking you, and reducing you to a dumb, cock drunk slut underneath him.

He didn't give a shit if everyone in the halls or anyone who had their dorm doors open heard you. The louder the better, that way everyone could know who was fucking you this good.

Your body shook from the pleasure of your walls stretching out to accommodate his cock as he pushed it inside of you, not giving you time to breath before he bottomed out. "Hold onto me like a good girl," He said huskily, gritting his teeth. His cock pulsed as it nudged firmly into your sweet spot, your walls squeezing perfectly around it.

You wrapped your arms around him, rocking your hips up obediently to meet his thrusts. Scaramouche draped one of your legs over his shoulder, bending it up towards your chest to give him more leeway to fuck his cock deeper inside of you.

Shameless moans tore from your throat as you tried to keep up with his intense pace. His cock squelched loudly in and out of you, his eyes trained on the white ring that formed around it.

"Please, please, please," You babbled behind your moans, pleasure gripping your body as his hips slammed satisfying against yours. His confident fingers played with and rubbed your clit, his body shuddering as your walls squeezed his cock.

"Then fucking cum, my poor, desperate whore," Scaramouche moaned, pushing down on the buldge that poked up in your stomach from how deep his was fucking his cock into you.

Pleasure burst behind your eyes as your orgasm washed over you. He felt your body melting in his hands, your release squirting onto his cock as you shook from your orgasm. It felt so good to feel you creaming hard on his cock again after a week.

Scaramouche stole your lips up another heated kiss, moaning huskily into your mouth as his cock pulsed and ribboned cum inside of you. His fingers tenderly intertwined with yours, squeezing your hands as he fucked his cum inside of you.

"That's my good girl, take it all," He praised, admiring the mess he'd made of you.

[judesprincess]

Can you write a Jude one where it includes angst to fluff then to smut loool where reader feels insecure of her chest as she has big 🍒 and Jude comforts her and reassures her and then it ends with smut please x

your request is my command, my dear. i ask you to please be patient because this is my first smut and I clearly don't have a knack for it yet; I also don't know if the request is the way you want it (let me know if you like it or not). remember that English is not my native language so there will definitely be grammatical and spelling mistakes, please ignore. happy reading, kisses 💋

warnings: insecurity (self-deprecation), dirty talk, unprotected sex – p in v (please, be safe), creampie

word count: 2878

Having big breasts may be a dream for many girls, but it definitely wasn't yours. You frowned as you looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing only your underwear, your breasts were free and exposed to the judging eyes. You hated them. You simply hated how flashy and heavy they were. You hated how they weren't as perky as you wanted them to be, and most of all, how vulgar you looked with any basic cleavage. In short, everything about them bothered you.

Of course, you were too insecure to talk to anyone about it, so you just kept that insecurity to yourself. Even so, you did your best to make sure no one saw your breasts; especially Jude. You knew it wasn't fair to him, since he'd always been the type of boyfriend who complimented you and put you up all the time, but you just couldn't help it. Since the beginning of your relationship, it was the same thing; you almost never let him touch or fully see your breasts. Suck them? Well, that was practically out of the question, there were rare times when you lost control and ended up letting Jude put his mouth on your nipples.

Jude, being the attentive and understanding boyfriend that he was, never brought up the subject or pressured you into doing anything that you weren't comfortable with. Besides, you were sure that he had no idea about your insecurity and had simply concluded that you didn't enjoy having your breasts fondled or sucked. You couldn't have been more wrong.

Jude had always been an observant boy and, of course, this only became even more pronounced after he became a man. Besides, the fact that it was you made him even more attentive and detailed. So, he was extremely quick to notice that you felt uncomfortable with your breasts, never wanting them to be seen or touched by him. You didn't hide it very well when you asked to have sex in dim light or when you asked him not to take off your shirt or, especially, when you quickly removed his hands from your breasts. Jude never pressured you about it. He wanted it to come from you to have that conversation. But it never came. He would be lying if he said he wasn't crazy to explore your tits the way he wanted, but he knew he had to be patient.

Your look of contempt grew stronger as you continued to stare at yourself in the large mirror. Your mind was buzzing with self-degrading thoughts. You wondered what Jude thought of them and you could swear he found them as ugly as you. That made everything worse.

You were so wrapped up in that negative and heavy fog that you didn't even hear Jude's footsteps getting closer and closer to the room. Not even the noise of the doorknob made you snap out of your daze, which was unusual for you, never being careless enough for someone to see you like that. So exposed.

You don't even know very well how or when you felt Jude's presence in the room, but you know very well what the feeling of realization was. Panic invaded every part of you when you saw, through the mirror, the tall and static figure a few meters away from you.  Your arms automatically moved to cover your breasts while the rest of your body moved to look for a towel or anything to hide that part you hated so much from your boyfriend's gaze.

— Honey... — Your ears barely registered the gentle tone as you continued to run from one side to the other, trying to find something useful to cover yourself. You could already feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to leak abundantly. — Y/N, please stop this. — Jude watched the scene with sadness. Seeing you desperate to hide your body from his eyes hurt him and he knew that this could not continue any longer. You needed to talk about this right now.

— J-Jude, get out of here. — You hated yourself the moment your voice came out broken and weak. The atmosphere became more and more tense. You turned your back as soon as you saw Jude approaching you. — Jude...

— Honey, don't push me away, please. — His voice was pleading and gentle.  His strong arms wrapped around her waist as he leaned down to place comforting kisses on her shoulder. — We need to talk about this, love.

— About what? — Your voice was shaky and you didn’t know if it was because of the kisses or the realization that Jude now knows you’re insecure. Your heart beats fast, making your breath pant.

— You know what, my love. — Now Jude’s tone, even if still gentle, is firm. You stay quiet, not even considering starting the conversation. — Since when do you feel insecure about your breasts, Y/N? — You definitely didn’t see it coming – which was naive, since you knew very well how straightforward and honest your boyfriend was about everything – and your breathing hitched.

The silence in the room was dense and awkward. Jude could feel how tense you were, but he definitely wasn’t giving up on this conversation. Not after the desperate way you reacted when you noticed him in the room, minutes ago.  He gave you time as he caressed your waist — avoiding getting too close to your breasts, which were still covered by the small towel — and lovingly kissed your shoulder and neck.

— I don’t know. — You whispered, after what seemed like hours of silence. Jude continued with the caresses, letting you feel free to say whatever you wanted. He knew that if he pressed you too much, you would panic and start crying. — I, — You stopped talking, trying to control the amount of words that threatened to come out of your mouth; the task became increasingly difficult with Jude touching you like that, transmitting so much trust and security to you. Now his large hands caressed your arms tenderly. — I just started to notice how different they were. Big and flashy. The girls around me had delicate breasts while mine are too big and look exaggerated with practically everything I wear. I don’t like the shape of them. — You said everything quickly, but Jude didn’t let a single word escape, while vehemently disagreeing with you in silence. — I feel dirty. — You whispered as if it were a secret. Because it was, in fact. You never said it out loud. Silence returned to the room as you waited for Jude to agree with you about everything you had said.

When nothing came, you gathered your courage and turned your head to look at him and were startled by what you saw. His face was tinged with indignation, but not only that. He looked offended, as if you had insulted him. You had never seen that expression on his face in your entire relationship and it made you desperate, making you try to get out of his grip. He didn't let you, pulling you even closer to his body.

— I just can't believe you said that, Y/N. — His tone was firm and as offended as his expression. You shivered. He was quick to turn you around, making you face each other. You couldn't look at him, feeling too embarrassed to do so. — Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you talking about yourself like that?

Your mouth opened and closed several times, unable to answer the question. He had definitely taken it personally and you didn't know how to deal with it. You watched quietly as he ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily, as if trying to reorganize his thoughts.

— Baby. — His tone returned to its previous gentleness. — I'm so sorry you feel that way. I don't even know how to react to this because honestly, your insecurity isn't even plausible. — His hand grabbed your chin, making you stare into his piercing gaze. — I really intended to sit down and talk to you, — he pulled you closer, grabbing you by the waist again; this time firmly. You felt your skin crawl at the way he grabbed you. — But hearing you talk such nonsense about those beautiful breasts shows me that maybe I need to be a little more incisive. — You choked on the words, your body shivering as he pulled you in front of the mirror. Then you understood what he wanted.  — Take off the towel and show me those tits.

— W-What? — You couldn't even think about Jude's authoritative tone. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room was heavy in a different way. A way that made your cheeks heat up and your legs go weak.

— Be a good girl and show me those beautiful tits, darling. — Jude's hoarse voice and predatory expression reflected in the mirror left no room for argument. As if to reinforce the request — no, that was an order — a strong and loud slap was left on your ass, making you scream, both from the surprise of the act and from the strong pain that settled in the affected area.

Being the good girl and with trembling hands, you let the towel fall, revealing your large breasts. Your immediate reaction was to close your eyes so as not to look at them. It didn't last long.

— Open your eyes, love. — You obeyed, as if it were automatic. — You know what I think, Y/N?  — Jude’s gaze couldn’t be described as anything other than predatory and hungry. Your insides twisted at the thought of him devouring you.

— Hm?

— I think you should get a good spanking for referring to them so disrespectfully. — The sound of another loud slap filled the room. This time, you bit your lip as your ass burned. — You must be blind not to see how beautiful and sensual those breasts are, darling.

— Jude… — You moaned as his large hands grabbed your breasts, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Your entire body was hot and you could feel your pussy completely soaked.

— You have no idea the things I want to do to them, love. — You didn’t even know how sensitive your nipples were, the intense sensation surprised you. — You have no idea how much I think about sucking and fucking them.  — He whispered hoarsely in your ear as he pressed his erection into your back. You gasped when you felt his big bulge so hard against you. — Watch what your pretty tits do to me, love. — He moans deliciously as he rubs himself with more pressure on you. — And I haven't even put them in my mouth yet. — That was too much for you, but you needed so much more.

— Please… — You begged as you rubbed yourself against him back, whimpering as you felt your pussy throb. — Jude, please…

— What do you want, hottie? —

— Suck my tits, Jude. — You begged as if you depended on it to live and you didn't even have time to think about anything else when, with record speed, Jude threw you on the bed and got on top of you.

When you felt Jude's hot, wet tongue circling your sensitive nipple, it was inevitable to wonder how you survived without it for so long. He sucked you hungrily, while he caressed your other breast deliciously. Jude had turned you into a mess of moans and lamentations.

— I'll fuck them with my cock next time... — You whimpered when he pulled away, feeling how sensitive your nipples were now. The idea of ​​having Jude's cock in your tits made you even hotter; but right now, all you needed was his cock inside you, stretching you beyond your limit. — But right now I need to fuck this beautiful little pussy, love.  — He was quick to remove your soaked panties, leaving you completely naked and exposed to his hungry gaze.

You felt your mouth water as he took off his own clothes, revealing more and more of his strong, muscular body.

— Take off your underwear now, babe. Please. — He laughed at your impatience as he got rid of the last piece, revealing his big, thick cock. The tip was wet with pre-cum. Your hole was so empty without him inside you.

— I’m going to get you ready. — He ran his fingers through your soaked folds, but you didn’t want that.

— No. Just stick that cock in me, Jude. — You demanded as you spread your legs wider for him. As much as you loved having his long fingers inside you, you didn’t know if you could survive this long without him inside you.

— What a needy little slut I have here, huh? — You moaned in agreement and tightened your grip on his strong arms as you felt him rub the blunt tip of his cock against your pussy. — So wet for me... Do you want my cock that much, princess?

— Jude, please... fuck me. — You knew you looked like a slut desperate for cock like that, but you didn't even care, since that's exactly what you were at the moment. That man had a power over your body that no one else ever had.

— Fuck. You're so tight, baby. — He groaned as he slowly thrust himself inside you.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip, feeling the familiar pain as he thrust himself all the way inside your pussy. No matter how many times you had been fucked by him, you would never get used to his size or his thickness, always struggling to take him. But you would be lying if you said you didn't love the feeling of being completely stretched and filled with his cock.

— You're doing so good, baby. Taking that cock so good. — He groaned as he left kisses all over your face. You gripped him even tighter when you felt him pull out and enter you deeply.

— Baby... — You moaned loudly as his thrusts got faster, Jude setting a delicious pace. You felt completely full, your walls clenching tightly to keep him inside forever. You cried out when he hit your G-spot, making your eyes roll back to the back of your head.

— Oh my God, baby, baby, right there! — You moved your hips, trying to keep up with his movements. The room was filled with the dirty sounds of your skin colliding, making you even more excited. Jude moaned hoarsely in your ear and his grip on your waist got tighter and tighter. You bit your lip as you imagined the purple bruises that would be left the next day. You rolled your eyes when you felt his cock kiss your cervix. — Baby, you feel so big...

— Yeah? Can you feel me here, baby? — He growled as he pressed his large palm against your belly. You threw your head back, gripping the sheets as you felt your pussy tighten even more around his cock. You knew you were close, and by the way Jude’s thrusts became even deeper and harder, he was too. — Come on, baby, cum on my cock like a good girl. — He thrust hard, abusing your sensitive spot without mercy. You cried out as you came, your body shaking all over.

Jude’s cock swelled inside you as he watched the scene, still thrusting his hips in and out of you, chasing his own climax now.

— Baby, I want to cum inside you. — He whispered breathlessly as his thrusts became even sloppier.

— It’s yours, baby, do it. — The words came out incoherently, you already feeling overstimulated from the penetration. Two more thrusts and Jude was cumming in large quantities inside you, his thick, hot liquid filling you to the point of leaking out. You moaned softly as you felt your pussy give its final contractions.  — Baby... — Now it felt too much to have him inside you, leaving you overwhelmed. Jude was quick to get the message, slowly and carefully pulling out of you.

— You were so good to me, baby. — You smiled tiredly, feeling your pussy empty and aching as his cum leaked out. Still, you couldn't help but smile, feeling completely satisfied. — Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you?

— It was perfect, Jude. It feels so good. — He smiled smugly as he stared at your pussy. You blushed at how naughty he looked.

— Look at this pretty little pussy, all fucked and filled with my cum. — You moaned as he ran his thumb over your sensitive pussy, spreading his liquid all over your pussy.

— Jude! — You screamed embarrassed.

— Let's get you cleaned up, love. Besides, I hope you never hide these pretty tits from me again, understand? — He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss on your lips. You were quick to nod, feeling completely comfortable being naked in front of him.

— Jude, I love you. — You looked at him shyly. — Thank you for always making me feel wanted and loved.

— Honey, you are the most beautiful woman in the world and I will always be here to remind you of that. — His words filled your heart, making your eyes water with tears of joy. — I love you more than anything, Y/N. — You felt every insecurity and silly fear leave your body because you knew he would always be there for you, no matter what.

well, i hope you liked it! I'm open to requests, I just ask that you be patient with the delay. kisses 💋

[dollfacefantasy]

CONCEALED CARRY ♡

pairing: ada wong x fem!reader

summary: you have a fixation with a certain weapon strapped to ada's thigh, one that she is more than happy to indulge in.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving), knife play

wc: 1.7k

kinktober slot: day 15 - knife play

The slender, silver blade drags in a thin line between your breasts. You shudder at the chill the metal brings you. It feels almost as cool as her gaze on your face.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" she asks.

Her scent clouds the air around you. The heady richness permeates your senses and gets you feeling lightheaded before she's even really done anything. Everything about her adds onto that sensation in this moment. From the warm weight of her body on top of yours to the sight of her in that form fitting red dress, all of it makes your heart beat faster.

When you don't answer, a small smirk tugs at her lips. She recedes back onto her knees between your thighs. The rest of her body is flattened out like a stretching cat. She drags the smooth surface of the knife down your belly.

"I see the way you stare at it," she taunts. Her dark eyes remain on yours, staring a hole into your psyche.

You shudder at both the implication and the position she has you in now. Your nipples begin to pebble beneath your thin bralette. Unlike Ada in her alluring outfit still on from work, you're dressed much more delicately. Light colors cover your chest and hips with matching lace bordering the garments.

"I just like watching you," you defend. Your own voice comes out much quieter and with less certainty.

She chuckles. The blade slides lower on your tummy. She hooks the point beneath the elastic of the waistband on your panties. The dainty fabric goes taut as it's drawn upward.

"Don't lie to me, darling. It's not me you're focused on," she continues.

You know she's telling the truth. This isn't the first time you'd done this, just the first time she's called you out.

She'd been gone all day today, off at some meetings to set up her next contract. Darkness had long settled outside by the time she came home. You were tucked away in bed, awaiting her return. When she finally entered through your bedroom door, the first thing she did after greeting you was undress. You were already in your sleeping attire, and she was ready to do the same for herself.

Standing between her side of the mattress and the wardrobe, she first unzipped her tall boots. The black leather parted to reveal her smooth legs. While removing the shoes, she stood with her limb hiked on the end post of the bed. It caused her dress to ride up enough so that you could see the holster that held her knife pressed against her flesh.

You're not sure what always attracts your eyes to study the thick handle and tight black straps fastening it around her muscle, but without fail, that's where they always fixate.

And this time, she'd noticed. You were staring long enough that she couldn't just drop it.

She pulls the knife more against your panties, wordlessly threatening to snap the hem of them into two. You take your lip between your teeth as you watch. Regardless of how obvious it was, you still aren't so eager to admit your affinity for sharp blades being in such close quarters to your body.

But she's determined to get that out of you.

"I notice it every time. Each time you see it, you almost start drooling," she mocks.

Your hips squirm a little, but the movements don't aid you in escaping from her teasing.

She pulls the point of the blade loose from your underwear and drags the smooth side down the top of your thigh instead. A small noise of automatic shock leaves your lips. Her eyes flit between your limb and your face.

"Why the panic? Isn't this what you want?" she asks.

A heavy breath leaves you, but you nod. This was exactly what you wanted, the physical evidence of that already collecting between your thighs.

She rises all the way back onto her knees now. Temporarily dropping the knife beside her, she uses her hands to remove her dress. Her body stands before you like a statue. In the dim light of your room, her skin glows the most beautiful, warm shade you could ever imagine. Black lingerie covers her curves. Her hands glide over her figure before she lowers herself again. You know she does it to tease you, but fuck, it works perfectly.

Her face sits inches away from your cunt. She merely stares at the junction of your thighs for a few moments, leaving you to marinate in anticipation. You take that time to admire the back of her body, in view from how she lies on her stomach.

Soon, her thumb comes up and rubs at your clothed center. You whimper at the feather light touch, feeling the smallest spark of stimulation. The pad of her digit swipes up and down. It traces from your clit to the bottom of your entrance.

"You're so wet, babydoll," she purrs, "I can feel it soaking through already."

Your cheeks heat up, and your body slumps down against the pillows a little more.

"I missed you," you try to justify.

"I don't think that's what has you all hot and bothered," she responds.

Reaching over your leg, she grabs the weapon she previously put aside. She drags the blunt edge back up your leg and across your hip bone. You watch every inch of its journey.

She brings it to rest on your pelvis. It sits there, balancing on the flesh of your lower belly. She directs her attention back to the pussy in front of her face. Leaning in, she kisses over the space her finger had just traced. 

Her lips press against the fabric, each little peck pulling another sound from you. She swears she can taste you already, but that may be just because your scent is so strong. Her soft tongue slips out to kitten lick your little nub over the fabric.

"Ada," you whimper. You're trying really hard to hold still. She hadn't said it, though it was implied you were supposed to keep her knife where she placed it.

"What, baby?" she asks and looks up at you, "Getting impatient?"

You nod, your normal pout starting to grace your features.

She smiles at that and grabs the handle of the blade again. Her slender fingers wrap around the thick base and guide it down between your legs. Your muscles tense up on instinct. 

You trust her implicitly, but the image of something so sharp down there triggers a primal part of your brain beyond control.

Before you can ask what she plans to do with it, she slowly moves the point above your center. Bringing it down, she snags it on the fabric of your panties. She jerks it, the movement rough but also precise. You remain as motionless as possible. This is the most well-behaved she's ever seen you. Maybe the two of you would have to play with this toy more often.

The blade glides through the cloth with no resistance. You flinch a little, but the action happens without you feeling so much as a scratch. Your breasts heave with each breath you take now. They feel heavier with the mix of arousal and anxiety.

She puts the knife down again so her fingers can pull apart the tear in your underwear. The sound of fabric ripping fills your ears as she reveals your drippy cunt to her eyes.

"Such a needy girl," she coos when she sees how your folds glisten with arousal.

"Just for you," you add in defense of yourself.

That makes her smile before she closes the distance between her mouth and your cunt. Her tongue darts out this time to get a real taste. Your head falls back at the feeling of her licking your tender bundle of nerves. Her movements are calculated, performed in a way she knows from experience will work you up further.

You whine, your legs squirming on either side of her while your toes curl at the foot of the bed. She opens and closes her lips, making out with your cunt as her tongue laves over you and teases the possibility of pushing inside.

"F-fuck," you stammer out, eyes drooping with the weight of your desire.

She loops her arms around your thighs to hold you in place. It was something she normally did when she could tell you were about to start getting fidgety. But right now, there's one key difference in comparison to most other times.

Right now, one of her hands holds the smooth side of the blade to your belly. The metallic surface chills you to the core, causing chills to break out across your skin. You're at no real risk of being sliced since she has the sharp edge tilted upward, but the feeling of it there, the idea of that control, it has you gushing all over her chin.

Your moans increase in volume and frequency, the pitchy sounds bursting from you without restraint. She can feel your legs going taut with the urge to buck your hips. Pulling back, she gives you a warning look.

"Better not squirm, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," she says.

Somehow the words hit you with heat. They drive you closer to the edge like a cylinder block left on a gas pedal. You keep your ass flush against the mattress as if it's glued there.

"I can't- ah- I'm gonna cum," you whine.

She doesn't respond verbally, only ups the fervor with which she eats you out. A squeal erupts from you, and your fingers dig into your bedding. Your thighs tremble violently against each side of her head.

Your release washes over you in waves. The first is the most intense, hitting you all at once and bringing you so high up. Then you start fizzling down, descending the slopes of pleasure as her tongue massages your pussy through it.

You manage to keep still for the most part throughout the whole thing. Once most of the pleasure has run its course, she pulls back. Her mouth leaves your soaked cunt and the tattered remnants of your panties that surround it.

When she discards the knife to the side, your muscles fully relax. She crawls up your body, tilting your chin up with the bow of her index finger. A small kiss lands on your lips, and you're sure you can taste yourself on her lips.

"Such a good girl for me," she whispers when the two of you part again, "Next time maybe I'll leave a little mark."

[freshxsturniolo]

but, why? PART TWO. chris sturniolo x femreader!

disclaimer : i hate the fact i had to use some random male name for this story to work lmao but i didn't want this to be about another influencer / youtuber. enjoy!!!!!

they had been waiting for you, like a damn interrogation, when you arrived at their house. you had your own key, of course, and you announced your arrival as you slipped off your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. no sound rang out but you didn't think anything of it, the noise of the tv above you loud enough for you to know they were probably scattered around the middle floor of their house. you turned to walk up the stairs, and an eye roll came so easy as you saw the three of them. sat together on the couch, arms crossed together, looking at you intensely.

"you're all so fucking annoying." you muttered under your breath, but with every intention for them to hear.

nick broke character first, laughing as he lunged off the couch and walked over to you, taking the slurpee tray from your hand and placing it on the coffee table before turning and giving you a hug. his familiar smell, always smelling like he had just got out the shower, comforting you immediately. you couldn't help but let out a smile as you squeezed your best friend.

when you finally removed yourself from the embrace, matt was standing closely behind, waiting to give you a hug too.

"you didn't text me back" he mumbled into your hair, and you laughed as you patted his back lightly.

"sorry, bernard. im here now" you said into his chest. he chuckled as he let go of you.

"i need to use the bathroom, don't start the story telling without me" he said with a cheeky grin. you rolled your eyes once again, going to jokingly slap his arm, but he had got away too quickly.

nick had made his way into the kitchen, the slurpee you had bought him already in his hand as he walked across to cupboard, pulling out some chips. but you eyes quickly diverted to chris, his ass firmly still on the couch, arms still folded. you stared at him for a short second before walking over to him, standing directly in front of him. his position didn't move but his eyes did, as they looked you up and down. you dipped your knees, so they hit his, before you stood back up again. one quick motion. he still didn't move. you stared at him intensely, nick now signing the words to a billie eilish song behind you both, before you shrugged and turned around. you knew not playing into chris' games was the way to get him to stop. his hands where on your waist in seconds, and you pulled down onto the space beside him where matt had just been in one swift swoop.

"CHRIS" you shouted, as he removed his hands from your waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

"what?" he said, like nothing had happened, and you couldn't help but laugh as you swung your arm around his waist. you stayed like that for a moment before matt reappeared.

"oh gods" he began, picking up his slurpee now along with yours and made his way over to you both. "you two are unbelievable"

you laughed, but you won't deny you noticed the way chris gave his brother a stern eye as you took the slurpee from him. you watched them both, having removed yourself from chris' chest, but before you could question it, nick finally appeared.

"okay" he said, grabbing chris' slurpee and walking over to you to you, slamming himself down on the couch next to chris, matt sitting closely behind. "tell us everything"

you groaned, automatically pushing yourself into chris' side, who's arm had not left you shoulder yet, and took a sip of your drink. when your eyes diverted back up to the three boys, they were all staring at you. matt and nick with a smirk, chris with what you could only describe as ... intrigue.

you sigh. "okay, so you know i've been going on dates with him, right?"

"no" chris answers immediately, and your eyes divert to him with a wince. of course he didn't know, neither did matt. you had only briefly confided in nick and clearly, true to his word, he hadn't uttered even an whisper to his two brothers. your eyes quickly glance in his direction, and he confirms with a shake of his head he'd kept quiet. you look away before either of his brothers notice.

"well" you say, looking at chris now. "i have. and hes super nice, okay? we've been for dinner and drinks a few times and i just have a good sense about him. this feels really different."

you could feel chris' breathing becoming harsher, but you ignore it as you look over to nick and matt, both with smiles on their faces. you can't stop the small laugh that escapes your mouth, like a little school girl.

"so, hes really not your boyfriend yet?" nick asks with a widened eye. but you smile.

"i mean, he hasn't asked me yet, but..." and you go quiet, butterflies in your stomach as you think back to just a few hours earlier. the kisses, the hand touching, the things he was saying. "he called me his girl earlier. and he's invited me out with his friends later this week." you look to matt now, almost wanting confirmation from a straight man who would actually tell you the truth. "that means something, right?"

matt smiled as his lips drew away from his slurpee straw. "i mean, none of my friends have ever met a girl i didn't seriously like."

your hear soared. but it didn't last long.

"whats this boys name?" chris said, his arm finally removing from your shoulder. your entire body feeling cold suddenly from the lack of touch. you pulled back slightly too, removing yourself from his side.

"his name is jason" you reply. you're met with an immediate scoff before chris turns away, finally taking a sip from his slurpee.

"what?!" you say firmly, and you notice the look that nick and matt give each other from the corner of your eye. you glance at them just slightly, before turning back to chris. "what?!" you say again, more firmly.

chris shrugs. he shrugs like he didn't care when you knew full well he did, and you dont know why you got your back up about it but you did.

"you know," you said, standing up from the couch and putting your slurpee down. your words were directed at chris but you could see nick and matts eyes widen. "this is exactly why i don't tell you about this type of stuff. every man i have ever spoken to you're down my neck about it. if you won't tell me what the fucking issue is, chris, don't speak to me at all."

you turned on your heel, fishing for your car keys out of your pocket within seconds, reaching the top of the stairs and practically throwing yourself down them. you could hear hushed voices from the three of them muttering to each other, but you didn't care. you wanted, for once, your best friend to be happy for you in a situation like this.

you made it to the bottom of the stairs, you'd managed to open the front door and step outside, before you heard your name being called. you stopped for just a brief second before you let out a sigh, shutting the door behind you anyway. you made your way down the drive and to your car parked out front before you heard the name again, and just a short second afterwards, just as you were about to open your car door, you felt hands on your wrist and you where being pulled into someones chest.

"im sorry" chris said, his familiar smell on his hoodie had clearly just thrown on quickly before coming outside into the evening chill. you stayed rigid, still angry, but if there was anyone you couldn't stay mad at for long it was chris. you sighed, before you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in even closer as he rested his chin on your head. "im sorry" he said again, and you gave his back a stroke of your thumb before pulling away.

"you're really insufferable sometimes, chris" you said as you looked up at him.

"i know, im sorry." he said again.

"but why?"

he sighed, his eyes looking all over your face like he was questioning himself before speaking. you didn't let your eyes leave his once.

"just-" and he stopped. "i dont know. if you're happy im happy."

there was something inside of you that didn't believe him. part of him that wanted to ask him again, and tell him to be serious. but part of you was scared for the answer. so you didn't. you simply grabbed his hand, spun him around, and started walking back into the direction of his house, throwing yourself into a completely different topic. chris laughed immediately, but you noticed, just briefly, the was his thumbs rubbed against your hand. the way he pulled you in, just a tiny bit closer.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

if I was the guide I would try to help link more then just help him with puzzles and where to go next. I would try helping with enemies and bosses by distracting them, help with stealth missions by making noise to distract guards, scavenge for things like rupees, bombs, arrows, food ect, for them, watch over link while he slept,help teach them how to play instruments cuz i doubt they would automatically know how to play, help keep them warm at night, let link vent and not bottle up his emotions,ya know cuz the poor boy deserves some help. Maybe guide reader help teach the links how to fight, cuz time, wind, and maybe legend, hyrule and how to sword fight cuz there's no way time and wind would know how to sword fight when their journeys first began, they were just kids, legend and four might have cuz legends uncle knew how to use a sword and fours grandfather is a blacksmith and in the four swords manga his father is captain of the hyrule knights, hyrule I don't honestly know if the fairies taught him how to fight with weapons, twilight was taught by rusl, sky, warriors and calamity were training/were already knights, wild would definitely have to be re taught how to fight again, and sage already remembered/ relearned how. I don't know how old first, korodai and courage were when they first learned,How would the chain react to that if they remembered? Sorry it's so long.😅

Sorry this one’s been sitting so long! This is going to be a bit of a ramble, but it’ll make sense! Took some liberties!!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Player/Guide!reader is the epitome of comfort to the boys. Much of their lives they have been taught through experience to trust no one —not even their own goddess— lest they get a dagger in the back. And at first they are cautious. A person with no ties to hyrule who is so eerily familiar with the heroes and utterly bewitching? They’re half convinced you are a trick, meant to play on their insecurities and trauma.

Time gathers his recollections first. He remembers your calm voice correcting his form and swings, your encouragement to keep improving— not with the intent of killing, but with only his safety at heart. He’d buried his blade within the thick trunk of a tree and heard your old whispers through his ears, and it all made sense. That even as his bones were cracked and reformed and the threads of time unraveled, you were consistent. Even when he wasn’t the same him that you loved before, you were back again. Protecting him, even if he didn’t need it. You were arms for him to return to and someone to hold and love.

Legend remembered almost on accident. He’d bolted up from the solid earth, rings snagging at his hair as his fingers tugged at the root. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like that of a frightened animal. You’d cautiously found your way in front of him, talking him down from the world within. Your hands massaged his palms easing the tension and removing his hair from his grip. You’d done this many times before, he realised. You were all he had for the months after leaving Koholint, your unconditional love despite his less than stellar attitude was something he felt guilty to forget. But perhaps now he’d be content to make up for it by letting you keep him there, curled up against your chest… even if he’d get some teasing.

Twilight didn’t actually remember on his own. In fact, he’s so stubborn and protective over the ‘pack’ that he likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Epona. For a large part, he trusted her judgment. Most animals did have a keener sense for natural disasters, but she always seemed to have a good sense of character. Sure, it was odd enough she ate right out of your hand with a happy nicker, but she just really liked apples. She’s a horse, she’s easily bribed. But even then, he’s not sure how much bribing it would take for her to lay down and let you braid flowers through her freshly brushed mane. It was trust. From all the other times you did it absentmindedly —occasionally even to him— it seems her trust in character was still sharp.

Warriors was actually slightly embarrassed by how he came to remember. Dripping wet from the rain and favourite cloak littered with mud and holes, he was rather cranky. He got showered and changed —thank the three they were at an inn— and decided to leave the stained and worn clothes as a tomorrow problem. That was until his prized blanket scarf found its way into to your mits. He tried to snatch it back, earning some odd looks and the shutter of the sheikah slate. You were frustratingly difficult to catch. It seemed that hadn’t changed. When he was ultimately successful, however, he realised that you’d actually been making an incredibly successful job at washing and repairing it as you’d done thousands of times before. He remembers you my firelight, cobalt swathed over your lap as your needle glided through the fabric. He remembered trying to imitate your stitches. He remembered how he never quite got it right.

He let you finish working.

Four was having a crisis. Do not let his indifference fool you, this man is a wreck. Best believe that beyond his surprisingly stubborn stoicism, the colors are shaking each other by the shoulders and screaming. Red recognised you immediately. His heart was quite literally moulded after your soft words and carefully love, he couldn’t forget you so long as he had a soul. Green being the mediator between them all and heard his quiet utters. The most honest a man could be that his adoration was infectious. It was you who taught him who he was. Blue took a while. So strong-willed in his stance, the he forgot you were the one to teach him to take a stand. He forgot it was you who willed him to fight for what he loved. Vio fell last, what would you expect of the mind. He hardly noticed it. The way his thoughts timed to you, the way he sought your presence and craved your voice. It was you who taught them how to be separate and yet loved them wholly. And such loyalty could only be payed back.

Wind remembered you in fragments. He remembers his parent by oath, who shielded him from the vast world he was so desperate to see. He didn’t understand it at first. But loosing you, especially when his memory wasn’t fully gone like the others, was rough. He mourned and grieved, even if he didn’t realise it. He missed being cared for. Without the looming question of what favor needed done or when it would go away. He missed you. It took a while to heal. For him to feel ok trusting in people again, even eventually curling up next to Wars when he’d try to sleep. He felt guilty, as if he were betraying you when you dug up dead feelings. But it’s hard to be a rebellious rascal when your partner in crime is finally returned to you especially after you were concerned you killed them. It takes him a while to process your back, but he’s back at your side, tugging you along by the hand as he explains his next devious prank.

Hyrule remembers you through his magic. The way your heart stutters as he heals you is familiar, a beat he’s fallen asleep to many times before and the life within it is one he can’t help but feel… connected to. He keeps a close eye out, his ears wiggling at the familiar music of your laugh and his skin unfamiliar without your own to cradle it. You share a spirit with them, a bit of your soul and theirs and a small both of theirs in you. And yet his mind can’t call out to why. It keeps him awake, taunting at him. But he knows his soul yearns for the part with yours. He knows the rush of your blood and song of your soul. He knows he loves you. Even if he doesn’t get why.

Wild takes so long to remember you for exactly the reasons you’d expect. His mind hides away the most crucial parts of itself in plain sight, never to be noticed or recognized until the memories are far too warped and rotten to actually remember anything. Anything of note, that is. But for what it’s worth, he never really perceived you as a threat. You were homey and comfortable, a trait so unfamiliar to his life of travel, he didn’t care if it left a sword in his stomach. Besides, not any yiga could take on an act that long. He took off the cooked eggs and set them onto a separate plate as you sat quietly, Wind strewn over your torso. You hummed softly the same work song he’d sung for years. One for which he didn’t know the origin, not until hearing you for what felt like the first time again. He couldn’t help but hum along.

Sky was cursed to forget you.

I must preface because he is a lover boy first and hero second. He wouldn’t care who Demise was, nor his business, so long as you were safe and loved. He loved you more than each and every star in the sky. And he’d already began to start planning your home. He knew he loved you. He knew he was made to love you. And that was exactly why he was made to forget you. That loyalty was scary to the gods. That one would devote themselves to another for little more than love in return— Hylia could not risk her heroes to stray. But try as she might she couldn’t surpress you. Not when you were already married, souls intertwined through every timeline. Your role varied, a healer, a helping hand, a comfort, a home, a parent, a lover, a souse. But you were always someone to Link. No matter what the gods declared. He remembered you only after all the others had, but he’s alright with that.

[userpeggycarter]

TOPAZ AI TUTORIAL

i was asked to do a tutorial for Topaz AI (a software that enhances screencaps), so here it is! :)

[tutorial under the cut]

i’m going to gif a 720p YouTube video from 12 years ago as an example. it’s the bottom of the barrel when it comes to image quality, but in the end, you won’t believe it was once so shitty. here’s the gif, without any editing:

THE APPLICATION

Topaz AI is a paid software for image enhancement. you can download it for free, but your images will have watermarks. here's a random link that has nothing to do with this tutorial.

you can use Topaz AI as a Photoshop plugin or use the software separately. i will explain both methods in this tutorial.

USING SEPARATELY

it’s the way i do it because it’s more computer-friendly, the plugin can take a toll on your PC, especially when you’re dealing with a lot of screencaps. 

you first take screencaps as you normally would (if you don’t, here’s a tutorial on how to do it). open Topaz AI and select all the images. wait a while for the software to do its thing.

on the left, there is your screencap untouched. on the right, is your edited version. if you click the edited screencap and hold, Topaz will show you the original, that way you can compare the versions even better than just looking at them side by side.

Topaz AI will automatically recognize faces, if any, and enhance them. this can be toggled off, by disabling the “recovering faces” option in the right panel. it’s always on for me, though. you can tweak this feature by clicking on its name, the same thing for the others.

Topaz AI will also automatically upscale your screencaps if they’re too small (less than 4k). it will upscale them to achieve said 4k (in this gif’s case, the original 1280x720 screencaps became 4621x2599). i suggest that you let the app upscale those images, giving you more gif size flexibility. you can change into whatever size you want if you want something less heavy to store. don’t worry though, even these “4k screencaps” are very light megabytes-wise, so you won’t need a supercomputer. it might take a while to render all your screencaps, though, if you’re on a lower-end computer. (the folder with the edited screencaps ended up being 1GB, but that’s because it contains 123 screencaps, which is a lot of screencaps for 4k giffing).

two options won’t be automatically selected, Remove Noise and Sharpening, you will need to enable them to use them. rarely i don’t use Remove Noise, as is the best tool to remove pixelization. the Sharpening option depends on the gif, sometimes your gif will end up too over-sharpened (because of Topaz’s sharpening and later your own). that said, i used the Sharpening option on this gif.

next, select all images by clicking the “select all” button. you will notice that one of the screencaps’s thumbnails (in my case, the first one) will have small icons the others don’t have. this is the screencap you enhanced. you will need to click the dots menu, select “apply”, and then click “apply current settings to selected images”. this way, every screencap will have the same settings. if you don’t do this step, you will end up with one edited screencap and the rest will remain untouched!

all things done, click “save X images”. in the next panel, you can select where to save your new screencaps and how you want to name them. i always choose to add a topaz- prefix so i know what files i’m dealing with while giffing.

just a note: if your way of uploading screencaps to Photoshop is through image sequence, you will need to change the names of your new screencaps so PS can perceive that as a sequence (screencap1, screencap2, etc). you can do that by selecting all the screencaps in your folder, then selecting to rename just one of them and the rest will receive numbers at the end, from first to last. you don’t need to rename them one by one.

here’s the first gif again, without any editing:

without Topaz enhancement but with sharpening:

without sharpening, only the Topaz enhancement:

with Topaz enhancement and sharpening:

her skin is so smooth that it is a bit unrealistic. i could have edited that while tweaking the “Recovering Faces” option and/or the “Remove Noise” option, but i prefer to add noise (filter > noise > add noise) when necessary. this way, i don’t risk not enhancing the quality of the screencaps enough.

i added +3 of noise, making the gif look more natural. it’s a subtle difference, but i thought it necessary one in this case. you can continue to edit your gif as your heart desires.

VOILA! 🥳

AS A PHOTOSHOP PLUGIN

if you have Topaz AI installed on your computer, Photoshop will recognize it. you will find it in filter > Topaz Labs > Topaz AI. while in timeline mode, select the filter. the same Topaz AI window will pop up and you can tweak things the same way you do when you use the software separately. by using the plugin, you don’t need to upload your edited screencaps or use screencaps at all, a video clip (turned into a Smart Layer, that is) will suffice. the downside is that for every little thing you do, Topaz AI will recalculate stuff, so you practically can’t do anything without facing a waiting screen. a solution for that is to edit your gif in shitty quality as you would edit an HD one and at the very end, you enable Topaz AI. or just separately edit the screencaps following the first method.

this is it! it's a very simple software to use. the only downside is that it can take a while to render all screencaps, even with a stronger computer, but nothing too ridiculous.

any questions, feel free to contact me! :)

[fruitcoops]

After Midnight

Annual pride fic is here! I hope everyone is staying safe, well, and hydrated :) Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for alcohol/ light drunkenness/hangovers

July 1, 1:30 p.m.

“Jesus,” Remus mumbled. Pressure pinched his lower back, runching up his shirt; he dug a clumsy hand beneath himself and fumbled for his phone. It took a few moments to extract it, clamped between weak knuckles, but he managed. Handful of Twitter notifications, a text from his dad, an automatic calendar notification, sticky lips and—good god, did his hair really look that bad?

He tried to sit up and was met with an immediate (and wildly cranky) grumble from the concrete slab resting across his belly.

Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. Getting up was overrated. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the house.

June 30, 10:30 p.m.

“AYO AYO AYO!”

Kasey winced. “Christ, Harz, take some pity on my eardrums.”

“Hey, man, sorry—has anyone seen the margarita mix?”

“Side counter,” Remus noted, tipping his chin toward the kitchen. “By the sink.”

Finn’s face brightened. “Sick, thanks.”

“Gentle pours, please. Not everyone here has a college liver.”

“Please,” Finn snorted as he cracked a screw-top open. “You’re all in much better shape than those guys ever were. Knutty around?”

Remus shrugged and took another sip of his beer. He liked this kind—Sirius had picked well. “Went off somewhere with Reg. Probably gaming.”

Finn whistled through his teeth. “Not getting him back anytime soon, eh?”

“Oh, you bet,” Remus laughed.

July 1, 2:00 p.m.

“We should ban frat boys from the team.”

“Mmm.”

“All of them. Every one.”

“Mmm.”

“Or at least remove the—” Sirius paused to catch another mouthful of water directly from the faucet. For the first time in Remus’ memory, his glossy hair looked slightly dull and flat. “—lead weights from their hands, mon dieu, what did they put in there?”

“Hell. Burning, vicious, alcoholic hell.” He turned his head with utmost caution, and still felt a warning throb in the back of his skull. “I liked those ciders you picked up.”

Sirius groaned; Remus watched his forehead bump the side of the kitchen cabinet with a soft noise. “Don’t talk to me about cider right now. My tongue feels like I licked one of your sweaters.”

Remus frowned. “You like my sweaters.”

“That’s not…” Sirius straightened with a wince. Both hands remained braced on the marble. “The fuzzy stuff, it’s all in my mouth. Wool.”

Remus thought it was rather more like someone had packed his cheeks and sinuses full of cotton balls, but sharing that didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Nine hours of sleep. Dizziness still threatened every attempt at movement. The tap turned off and he heard Sirius’ footsteps approach; pressure compacted Remus’ ribs once more with a wobbly flop.

“I like this shirt,” Sirius mumbled into his left pec. His voice was thick—from his hangover or drowsiness or just giving up on English, Remus wasn’t sure. Knowing Sirius, it was a bit of all three. His stubble scratched gently over Remus’ collarbone, still damp from sticking his head in the sink. “Soft. Cute.”

“It’s one of yours.”

“Ah. I have good taste.”

“Clearly.”

The corner of Sirius’ mouth pulled up in a smile. “Hmm. Harzy and Tremz are going to be doing bag skates until their legs fall off.”

Remus snorted, trailing his fingertips through the squashed curls at Sirius’ nape. “Not to play frat boy’s advocate here, but in their very weak defense, I don’t think the punch alone did this.”

“Non. Margaritas.”

“I still think Lily poured extra in.”

“Ouais, prolab—probleb—oui. She did.”

A phone screen lit up in Remus’ periphery. He grabbed for it, stiff-fingered and extremely stuck beneath a lump of husband, and squinted into the bright light. “Pots says good morning, and that he’s going to go lay on the porch for a few hours. He loves you.”

“Mmph. Love, too.”

June 30, 11:25 p.m.

Sirius loved parties. He fucking loved them. This was the best night of his life. Second-best, after his wedding. Or third? He was happy when Harry was born. But no, his ribs were still broken then. That had to put it under tonight, because tonight was perfectly amazing and awesome, and James was his—

“You’re my favorite person,” he yelled over the music, leaning on James’ shoulder in case he didn’t hear. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” James shouted back. His glasses had gone a bit sideways on his face. That was fine. Lily would totally fix those for him. She liked to kiss his nose, and she had once told Sirius that fixing James’ glasses made sure she got to do it. Sirius thought she might want to pick something that wasn’t so easily broken.

“Hey,” he continued with a pull to James’ shirtsleeve. “I kiss loup on the mouth.”

“I know!”

“And the cheek!”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because Lily kisses your nose,” he explained. Maybe the music was too loud for James to understand. He looked confused. “And you can break your nose. But you can’t break your mouth or your cheeks.”

Finally, understanding dawned on James’ face. “Dude,” he said. “You’re so right. We gotta go tell her.”

July 1, 2:07 p.m.

Remus set Sirius’ phone down on his lower back and reached for his own, wiggling a little when his hips got stuck under Sirius’ torso. A displeased huff followed—he kissed the top of Sirius’ head in apology and let the popsocket slot between his fingers, just in case. He was so clammy all of a sudden.

You Have (4) New Messages From: Lion Den RAHH

everyone not dead sound off

breathing.

Technically alive. Wish I wasn’t.

who made the fucikgn margs

New Message To: Lion Den RAHH

Not dead. Margs were Harz and Lily. You fuckers need to clean up after yourselves.

He had just clicked his phone off when the screen went retina-blasting bright again. Remus let his head fall back against the armrest and immediately regretted it. It took an embarrassing amount of time to lift his head again without the room tilting sideways.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Big words. Small brain. Still drunj

*drnuk

DTUNK.

Three gray dots scrolled, then vanished. Remus smiled to himself. The vindictive part of him was glad to see they weren’t the only ones in Pride-induced misery.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Some1 help knutty is snorng like a fucking chainswa

Remus glanced down. “Did you know Knutty snores?”

“In planes.”

The shallow rhythm of Sirius’ breathing flexed the shirt across his back. Remus gave an appreciative rub along the valley of his spine and felt him arch into it. “Aw,” he cooed. “My poor little hungover lion cub.”

“Nooo,” Sirius protested weakly.

“Poor baby. How will you survive.”

“At least you don’t snore.”

“True.”

“Is Harzy suffering?”

“As much as he can while he’s in bed on a Saturday with his boyfriends.”

“Good.”

July 1, 12:15 a.m.

“Bonjour, hi, hi.”

An arm caught him around the waist—Remus stumbled, but within half a step he had been gathered up against a warm, familiar chest. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, dopey even to his own ears. “Missed you.”

Sirius might have returned the sentiment, but Remus didn’t hear it through the buzz in his veins and the stutter of his heart when Sirius’ mouth found his own. He staggered backward with a sharp inhale and let Sirius carry their momentum. His back hit the wall; Sirius sighed into his lips when Remus dragged a hand through the top of his hair.

He tasted like oranges when Remus bit his lower lip. “Yum.”

“Love you,” Sirius said, smiling. Their foreheads bumped and Remus pushed into it. He was rewarded with another kiss that turned his ankles to loose jello. “Non, non, don’t leave.”

“Mmm, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised through a grin.

His eyes closed as Sirius’ mouth trailed over his cheek and jaw, then down to suck at his neck. “Should’ve done this earlier.”

Teeth grazed his skin with each word; Remus shivered despite the warm night. “Yeah?”

“Before the parade.” The sway of Sirius’ accent did unholy things to his heart. Stubble teased his skin when Sirius nudged under his chin. “That way everyone could see.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Remus breathed.

July 1, 3:45 p.m.

“Did you drown?”

Sirius glared at him across the bedroom, playful and foggy. Remus grinned and took a swig of Gatorade.

“You look like you did.”

“How are you rebounding?” Sirius grumbled.

Water droplets stuck to the mirror with each scrub of the towel through his hair. He’d left it longer than usual in the postseason, fluffy around his ears and neck. Remus was inclined to keep it that way as long as he could. He met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror and took another pointed sip. “Our lady of blessed electrolytes.”

“…give it.”

July 1, 1:30 a.m.

Sweat and glitter burned crystalline in the glow of multicolored LEDs. Sirius wasn’t sure where—or who—the glitter had come from, but finding one culprit in this crowd would be a losing battle, and one that required him to stand up. There was no way in hell he was leaving this perfect place.

Remus’ eyelashes threw shadows over his freckles when he blinked. “Do you think they’ll start leaving soon?”

“I’ve been hoping since midnight.”

His laugh was everything. Quieter at first, a mischievous snicker blooming loud at the end. Sirius let his eyes fall shut when Remus leaned over. His temple nestled against Sirius’ forehead. “Hi.”

The seam of his jeans rippled under Sirius’ fingertip. His quad flexed, and Sirius felt the weight in his lap grow heavier while Remus settled in. “Hey.”

“Proud of you.”

Sirius pressed his smile to a blush-warm cheek. God, he loved how pink Remus turned on nights like this. “I love you.”

It only took a minute adjustment, and they were kissing. He kept it soft and long and chaste, more a series of small pecks brought together by their closeness than anything. The tip of Remus’ nose was cool on the bridge of his own. He nibbled the corner of that grin and tasted bright apple-sugar, chasing it with a flick of tongue.

“You’re bad,” Remus murmured with audible delight, twisting slightly. He hardly went far—most of his weight rested on Sirius’ chest and he came closer without hesitation when Sirius tugged on his hips. His golden eyes flashed in the sudden transition from hot pink to blue lining their walls. “We have company.”

“So did Dumo.” Sirius kissed the roundness of his lower lip. “When we won the Cup.”

“We can’t throw a fuckin’ Pride party and then sneak off in the middle of it. It’s cliché.”

“If this is the middle, I’m sneaking off to sleep in an hour, and you can decide to join me or not.”

Remus’ laugh was loud all the way through, this time.

July 1, 6:00 p.m.

The groupchat had grown steadily more active as the hours passed and more of their friends were revived from their howling, sharp-toothed hangovers. Remus, for his part, had already sworn off alcohol six times in the past four hours. He hadn’t been left this hard-over since his junior year of college.

A gust of wind blew in from one of the many open windows and ruffled his shirt. Remus grimaced. “I still smell like a distillery.”

Sirius (who, despite his whinging, had recovered rather fast) sniffed the air. “Ouais.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Worth it, though.”

Remus gave him a sideways look. “Was it?”

Sirius glanced up and frowned, then set his slice of pizza down. “I liked the party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” One of his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was nice, having people around. The parade was fun. Kind of busy.” He took another bite, tipping his head back and forth thoughtfully even as a gentle blush colored his neck. “I like showing you off.”

Remus liked to think he had grown accustomed to Sirius’ sweetness—to his big heart and kind words, both of which were reserved for a select few that somehow included Remus. Yet he constantly found himself left speechless, cast far out to sea by the sheer honesty Sirius saved for him.

He stretched a leg out under the table and tangled their ankles together. “Love you.” Remus tilted his chin vaguely toward the window. “Here, and out there. For us and them.”

“We should have more parties,” Sirius said by way of an answer. The blush had risen to his ears. His foot ran along the length of Remus’ shin.

“Okay.”

“I want to see everyone, and I want to love you so they know it.”

Remus’ face hurt from keeping his smile from drifting too close to utter lunacy. “Okay.”

“We should ban glitter next year.” Sirius nodded to himself, then nudged Remus’ foot. “And frat boys.”

“They’re gay frat boys, though. They have a right.”

The bridge of Sirius’ nose wrinkled. Fucking adorable. “Well, maybe they just need to pick a side.”

“Lily was partially responsible for the biohazard margaritas,” Remus pointed out, picking a piece of pepperoni off Sirius’ slice and adding it to his own.

“She’s out, too.” Sirius jabbed his pizza at him. “And you’re on thin fucking ice, thief.”

“I’ll pick her party over yours.”

“You can’t pick your best friend over the person you’re gay married to. It’s Pride.”

Remus stole another pepperoni, dodging the smack of Sirius’ hand. “Then I’ll get gay married to Lily.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Any marriage I’m in is a gay one,” Remus informed him, slouching lower in his seat to hook his calf around Sirius’. “I can gay marry anyone I want. I’ll gay marry a dozen people and go to all their parties over yours. Ha-ha-ha.”

Sirius flicked a piece of pineapple at him; it bounced off his chin, and while he was distracted, Sirius stole one of his pepperonis back with a triumphant grin. “Fine. See if any of them put up with you like I do.”

“Thief.”

A foot poked Remus in the back of the knee. “Doesn’t count if it was already mine.”

[star2fishmeg]

more luke x inexperienced reader thoughts/situations please😩😩😩 you just capture it so well

The second his tongue flicked over your clit you were gone. But he was sweet, instantly pulling back when you gasped and jolted onto your elbows, telling him to let you have a few seconds before you both started and your reassurance that it was just a new kind of bliss soothed his nerves. After all, as he'd said, if you wanted to stop, all you had to do was tell him to stop and he would. He couldn't fathom why no man had ever wanted to go down on you, if your lips tasted so sweet and addicting, your words heart-throbbing and your heart so warm it challenged the purpose of the fireplace, Luke believed that the rest of you was just as exquisite.

Now he's devouring you like he's been starved for months. One thigh over his shoulder, hand flat on your lower stomach where his thumb settles above your throbbing clit, ready to pull those whines from you when you're suppressing them. His lips run along the inside of your other, long fingers firmly holding it open to allow his tongue to run over the purple bruises littered over the soft skin, kissing them tenderly as if he'd left them to mark his territory.

He presses his lips to one of the larger hickeys, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, his eyelashes fluttering over your nerves, sending those little bursts of ecstasy to your stomach.

"All mine, all fuckin' mine," he murmurs lowly into your skin, voice husky and you watch him visibly exhale and turn back to your pussy, eyes slowly opening to become half-lidded and his breathing tickles over your clit. He's thriving in the way your chest rises and falls deeply, still catching your breath from how he's already run his tongue through you. "You wanna keep going?"

"Yeah...please." You nod, your voice airy and quiet.

The pad of his thumb circles your clit, eyes burning into yours reassuringly as he lowers lips into your folds, eventually breaking the contact to bury his face and lap at your arousal, hot tongue licking through your folds languidly, "No one's gonna know how fuckin' delectable you are, taste like heaven."

His voice vibrates, and you lull your head back, your mouth falling open as if you've lost the ability to control the muscle. Luke removes his thumb and lets his nose bump your bundle of nerves rhythmically. You let little elongated whimpers slip from your throat, hands balling into fists as you adjust on your elbows.

"You like that?" Luke looks up, curls almost shading his eyes, "Baby I can stop, just tell me you wanna stop and I'll-,"

"-Don't stop! God, don't stop," you desperately interrupt with the deep-rooted lust you've been pushing down breaking through, "feels so fuckin' good, Lu,"

He nods and his head dips again, lips pressing against your clit tenderly and sucking, finding pleasure in your wanton moans that ring through his ears.

"Make such pretty noises," you feel his smirk against your cunt, "can't hear you, baby, you're allowed to enjoy it."

And gradually, with every lap your whining becomes louder, needier, freakier until you aren't holding back anymore, especially when his tongue slips deeper inside of you. Your fingers slide into his curls automatically, tugging harshly a heat surges through you, sweat forming on the back of your neck and the sight of him between your thighs, nodding as his hand presses down on your stomach, suddenly creates a tightness inside.

"Do that again, fuck, please." Luke's voice breaks your trance.

"Huh?" you pant.

"Pull my hair again, like when you do that, doesn't hurt m'kay." He rasps before returning to plunging his tongue inside your pussy insatiably.

So, you do. You tug, pull, grip, let your nails rake through his scalp and you push his head further into you and he's relishing in every second of it, his hips rutting into his own mattress to give his dick some sort of friction. You can't believe that you probably would have never known this kind of paradise if it wasn't for Luke. It's his favourite place to hide, to refuge and if you tasted bad, he wouldn't be so close to pulling an orgasm from you.

Throwing your head back with a lazy smile, you close your other thigh around his head, "Yours, all yours, Lu, feel s'good."

"Mhm, pretty pussy's all mine."

He's right. The first and last man to ever taste you, make you ascend with just his tongue alone and God, you could die like this, and you wouldn't be mad. Luke, the only man to have your arousal and cum drip from his face shamelessly, beg for more, a round two on the first time.