#color adjusted flag

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

A[n intersex-inclusive] progress pride flag that explicitly includes disabled, altersex, a-spec, and ethically non-monogamous people.

The altersex symbol and intersex symbol interlock, to showcase unity within the varsex community.

The a-spec compass and ethically non-monogamous heart are both within a single symbol, to showcase the unity of going against amatonormativity.

Whenever I reblogged this post by @dhddmods, the flag and its meanings above got lost, so I'm reposting. -Ap

[calciferstims]

“I know you have a little life in you yet / oh, hold my hand”

aka the ofmd ep 2x03 mermaid scene :))

requested by @fightingtrim

sources: 🌊🌊🌊 | 💙🧜‍♂️💙 | 🌊🌊🌊

[8stripe]

new color adjusted flags ❤️ in order transfem , transmasc , unlabeled , pangender , uranic , cassgender , alloace , genderflux , proxvir +juxera. all avaliable emoji in our pride emote server 💫😁

[prolibytherium]

I should probably stop using the dying 10 year old laptop to do all my digital painting on because I post a drawing like "OK good enough" and then look at it again later on a better monitor and am like What the FUCK happened

[laceratedlamiaceae]

he's so adorable, I don't know what's wrong with Lucius but I'd let him give me demeaning tasks and look down on me disapprovingly

[chemicalarospec]

put this together but it took a freaking hour!! so it'll be a "bit" longer before I make an aroace flag to complete my vision of my new pfp!!!

(Please don't use! All of these are my personal pictures and as said this took a while. However if anyone is curious I can tell you how to make one yourself!)

[knightcoric-archived]

also ace, aro, and aroace moon phases :>!

[ego-sum-arbor]

I finally did all the finishing work on my knit bi pride crop top!

It’s got a few issues— the fit’s a touch big, straps slipping, and the general perils of knitting with cotton, but I’m ultimately pretty pleased with it. I’m inclined to forgive small problems in my second fitted torso garment.

[snaxle]

pretty blog colors....

ty ^o^

[ryuseitaiz]

i remember posting 2 speededits on here b4 n since i actually recorded 4 once (which allowed me 2 finish the icon in 1 sitting bc i didnt wanna record diff parts lol) heres another, i guess.

song: sky is not blue by lemon demon time took 2 edit the icon: 1 hr 4 min [flashing warning 4 the vid, btw]

end result:

[unboundprompts]

Pirate Terms and Phrases

-> Pirate Lingo

-> A Pirate's Glossary

Batten Down The Hatches - tie everything down and put stuff away for a coming storm.

Brig - a prison on a ship.

Bring a Spring Upon 'er - turn the ship in a different direction

Broadside - the most vulnerable angle of a ship that runs the length of the boat.

Cutlass - a thick, heavy and rather short sword blade.

Dance with Jack Ketch - to hang; death at the hands of the law (Jack Ketch was a famed English executioner).

Davy Jones's Locker - a mythical place at the bottom of the ocean where drowned sailors are said to go.

Dead Men Tell No Tales - the reason given for leaving no survivors.

Flogging - severe beating of a person.

Gangplank - removable ramp between the pier and ship.

Give No Quarter - show no mercy.

Jack - flag flown at the front of the ship to show nationality.

Jolly Roger - black pirate flag with a white skull and crossbones.

Keelhaul - a punishment where someone is dragged under the ship. They are cut by the planks and barnacles on the bottom of the ship.

Landlubber - an inexperienced or clumsy person who doesn't have any sailing skills.

Letters of Marque - government-issued letters allowing privateers the right to piracy of another ship during wartime.

Man-O-War - a pirate ship that is decked out and prepared for battle.

Maroon - to leave someone stranded on a. deserted island with no supplies, typically a punishment for any crew members who disrespected the captain.

Mutiny - a situation in which the crew chooses a new captain, sometimes by forcibly removing the old one.

No Prey, No Pay - a common pirate law that meant crew members were not paid, but rather received a share of whatever loot was taken.

Old Salt - experienced pirate or sailor.

Pillage - to steal/rob a place using violence.

Powder Monkeys - men that performed the most dangerous work on the ship. They were treated harshly, rarely paid, and were expendable.

Privateer - government-appointed pirates.

Run A Shot Across the Bow - fire a warning shot at another boat's Captain.

Scurvy - a disease caused by Vitamin C Deficiency.

Sea Legs - when a sailor adjusts his balance from riding on a boat for a long time.

Strike Colors - lower a ship's flag to indicate surrender.

Weigh Anchor and Hoist the Mizzen - an order to the crew to pull up the anchor and get the ship sailing.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[altruistic-meme]

every day i get closer to wanting to do Too Much

[8stripe]

looking @ sidebysides of our flag tweaks is fun lol

[phantomrose96]

The conversation around AI is going to get away from us quickly because people lack the language to distinguish types of AI--and it's not their fault. Companies love to slap "AI" on anything they believe can pass for something "intelligent" a computer program is doing. And this muddies the waters when people want to talk about AI when the exact same word covers a wide umbrella and they themselves don't know how to qualify the distinctions within.

I'm a software engineer and not a data scientist, so I'm not exactly at the level of domain expert. But I work with data scientists, and I have at least rudimentary college-level knowledge of machine learning and linear algebra from my CS degree. So I want to give some quick guidance.

What is AI? And what is not AI?

So what's the difference between just a computer program, and an "AI" program? Computers can do a lot of smart things, and companies love the idea of calling anything that seems smart enough "AI", but industry-wise the question of "how smart" a program is has nothing to do with whether it is AI.

A regular, non-AI computer program is procedural, and rigidly defined. I could "program" traffic light behavior that essentially goes { if(light === green) { go(); } else { stop();} }. I've told it in simple and rigid terms what condition to check, and how to behave based on that check. (A better program would have a lot more to check for, like signs and road conditions and pedestrians in the street, and those things will still need to be spelled out.)

An AI traffic light behavior is generated by machine-learning, which simplistically is a huge cranking machine of linear algebra which you feed training data into and it "learns" from. By "learning" I mean it's developing a complex and opaque model of parameters to fit the training data (but not over-fit). In this case the training data probably includes thousands of videos of car behavior at traffic intersections. Through parameter tweaking and model adjustment, data scientists will turn this crank over and over adjusting it to create something which, in very opaque terms, has developed a model that will guess the right behavioral output for any future scenario.

A well-trained model would be fed a green light and know to go, and a red light and know to stop, and 'green but there's a kid in the road' and know to stop. A very very well-trained model can probably do this better than my program above, because it has the capacity to be more adaptive than my rigidly-defined thing if the rigidly-defined program is missing some considerations. But if the AI model makes a wrong choice, it is significantly harder to trace down why exactly it did that.

Because again, the reason it's making this decision may be very opaque. It's like engineering a very specific plinko machine which gets tweaked to be very good at taking a road input and giving the right output. But like if that plinko machine contained millions of pegs and none of them necessarily correlated to anything to do with the road. There's possibly no "if green, go, else stop" to look for. (Maybe there is, for traffic light specifically as that is intentionally very simplistic. But a model trained to recognize written numbers for example likely contains no parameters at all that you could map to ideas a human has like "look for a rigid line in the number". The parameters may be all, to humans, meaningless.)

So, that's basics. Here are some categories of things which get called AI:

"AI" which is just genuinely not AI

There's plenty of software that follows a normal, procedural program defined rigidly, with no linear algebra model training, that companies would love to brand as "AI" because it sounds cool.

Something like motion detection/tracking might be sold as artificially intelligent. But under the covers that can be done as simply as "if some range of pixels changes color by a certain amount, flag as motion"

2. AI which IS genuinely AI, but is not the kind of AI everyone is talking about right now

"AI", by which I mean machine learning using linear algebra, is very good at being fed a lot of training data, and then coming up with an ability to go and categorize real information.

The AI technology that looks at cells and determines whether they're cancer or not, that is using this technology. OCR (Optical Character Recognition) is the technology that can take an image of hand-written text and transcribe it. Again, it's using linear algebra, so yes it's AI.

Many other such examples exist, and have been around for quite a good number of years. They share the genre of technology, which is machine learning models, but these are not the Large Language Model Generative AI that is all over the media. Criticizing these would be like criticizing airplanes when you're actually mad at military drones. It's the same "makes fly in the air" technology but their impact is very different.

3. The AI we ARE talking about. "Chat-gpt" type of Generative AI which uses LLMs ("Large Language Models")

If there was one word I wish people would know in all this, it's LLM (Large Language Model). This describes the KIND of machine learning model that Chat-GPT/midjourney/stablediffusion are fueled by. They're so extremely powerfully trained on human language that they can take an input of conversational language and create a predictive output that is human coherent. (I am less certain what additional technology fuels art-creation, specifically, but considering the AI art generation has risen hand-in-hand with the advent of powerful LLM, I'm at least confident in saying it is still corely LLM).

This technology isn't exactly brand new (predictive text has been using it, but more like the mostly innocent and much less successful older sibling of some celebrity, who no one really thinks about.) But the scale and power of LLM-based AI technology is what is new with Chat-GPT.

This is the generative AI, and even better, the large language model generative AI.

(Data scientists, feel free to add on or correct anything.)

[nonbinary-odo]

If anyone wanted visuals

Captain's log, supplemental. Excitement from the newly rediscovered Earth holiday known as Pride Month has taken DS9 by storm. I only hope in all their merriment, my officers do not forget their duties.

---

"Brother! I found another one!" Rom declared.

"Let me see that," Quark snatched the PADD from his hands. "No good, it's another of those 'combo' flags."

"Annnnnd what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it? It means they only need to buy one of Quark's Commemorative Pride Pins! At 3 slips I'm already practically giving them away! I'm all for these hu-mon holidays so long as they don't drive a man out of business!"

---

"Sorry Odo, the rules are very clean on this one: no cops at Pride."

Odo nodded, hands squarely behind his back. "Understandable, Major. I do not see much benefit in my attendance of a Solid holiday, regardless."

Dax looked like her heart was just crushed. "But this is Odo we're talking about, can't we make an exception? Besides, I already picked up his pins from Quark."

"Lieutenant, I hardly-"

Jadzia cut him off by pinning three different pride flags to Odo's "shirt". The backgrounds had horizontal bars of color, and the foreground featured Quark's smiling face, complete with an ad for his other holiday products. Odo sighed. Kira laughed.

---

"Oh come now, Garak..." Julian paced the length of the Tailor's shop, he looked quite at home, to pull at as many items of clothing as he did. "You won't have to do anything, we'll just be walking!'

Hands close to his chest, highly offended, Garak pointed a delicate finger to the bright pins on Bashir's chest.

"And I suppose you expect me to wear those horrendous bobbles I have been seeing all across the station?"

"Garak-"

"My dear doctor, I would no sooner be caught pairing Tholian silk with Tarkalean wool. You know, I would have quite the comments for whoever came up with these bright, clashing combinations. Constable Odo of all people has seemed to pick the most sensible of them, his all share a sense of color story-"

"We don't pick them, Garak."

"And yours, I understand wearing one color day after day may make you blind to it, but doctor, not even your blues match."

"Garak, if you don't want to join me, you are welcome to stay here."

"Stay here? My dear doctor, I wouldn't dream of missing it."

---

"Captain, your station is out of control. On Terok Nor, we would never allow for such riots to spread across the station." Dukat's voice buzzed through the view screen.

"Listen to me, Dukat. What I allow on my station is my business and mine alone. What you call a riot, I call a celebration. This holiday is a joyous expression of self even your ego should be able to get behind. Now I will NOT have your internalized homophobia twist what this parade is about!"

"Captain, my wha-"

"Computer, end transmission."

[taelophone]

Friends Don't⋆˙⟡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Luigi Mangione x Reader TWs: Baby Trapping . Friends With Benefits . Dry Humping . Luigi doesn’t take his boxers off like once LOL . Gross imagery cuz I’m nasty . Penetration . Luigi is implied neurodivergent, specifically autism . Daddy Kink . Glasses Luigi . A/N: ngl this is v depraved as well🙂‍↕️

“No, hush, you don’t get it. It was like, a look…see, this is why I don’t tell y’all stuff!”

The sounds of crinkled and crunchy chip bags rustled, accompanied by the aggressive slam of Kota’s heavy hand placing down his cold bottle of beer on the coffee table.

Bubbles of carbonation fizzed, alcoholic foam bubbling to the neck before retreating into the amber glass. Bodies shuffled, voices murmured, television buzzed, and pages flipped as Luigi, your dearest friend, flipped through the pages of his planner.

“But like…” Lindsay began, popping a few primary-colored M&M’s in her mouth with a throw of her head. “You guys weren’t there, he was literally soul-searching me!”

“Lindsay, please stop being delusional,” Kota sighed, a pitying glint in his eyes to pair perfectly with his cynical smirk.

“I’ll hop up there and shove my foot down your throat, please don’t, Rykler” she sighed, a half-amused pout on her lips as she reached over the coffee table from her crisscrossed position on the floor to drop some popcorn in her mouth.

“Last name is crazy…” He chuckled.

“So wait, when are we all leaving? Next Saturday?” You asked, cutting through the pair’s banter with a subtle reminder to focus.

You crawled off of the floor, the cotton lycra of your leggings dragging against the ivory carpet. Your hands came to rest on the side of Luigi’s thigh, raising your head to peer over at the planner in his hands as he mapped out an itinerary for your trip to Athens, Greece.

You felt it for a moment— his quad muscles tensed under your hands for a moment, quick enough to go unnoticed, but slow enough to raise a flag of shock or fluster.

“Should be,” Luigi began, his middle finger adjusting the bridge of his reading glasses. “The flight should be like…eleven hours. So Lindsay, don't sit by me because I wanna get some sleep.”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” she chuckled, a sarcastic roll of her eyes and a surprisingly elegant flash of her middle finger.

“I know, it’s a curse” he fired back, quick with his tongue. It was like watching siblings go back and forth with each other, each little nitpicking jab aiming to push the other to call a truce or sink the pair into a vicious cycle of verbal blows. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna drive Kota home. I can see the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at his keys” Lindsay murmured, side-eying him with both care and annoyance before slowly sliding the black and silver fob into her coat pocket.

“Somebody get this man his keys,” Luigi joked, a boyish grin painting his face while he watched his frat-brother stand up and stretch. A few loud pops, cracks of age, and ease echoing from the tall boy's spine before he shakes himself free of insomnia.

“A’ight, we out. Text me when you get home, Pep. Oh, and,” he paused, picking up his beer from the table with a surprisingly sweet and genuine chuckle. “Don’t fuck it up. You got this bro, ALPHA!” He barked, enunciating his proclamation of Luigi’s leadership with a few hits to his chest.

Whatever that meant.

“I won’t, I promise,” Luigi chuckled, waving at the pair of them as they made their way out of your cozy apartment.

With the pair of them gone, the only company between you and Luigi transitioned into silence. His eyes scanned over the small book, filling the empty boxes of next weekend with blue-inked notes and E.T.A’s.

You watched his hands, now slowly bringing your chin to rest atop his thigh. His concentration was so heavy he almost didn’t notice the way you rested your head and arms on his much larger leg, your head tilted innocently to the side like a little doe, discovering man for the first time.

Almost.

“Why are you still on the floor?” He asked with a tiny smile, not once removing his gaze from the journal in front of him.

“It’s comfy” you shrugged, flicking your eyes up to his. The black frames of his browline glasses glimmered until the pale yellow light of the overhead lamp, little white highlights flashing every once in a while with a slight tilt of his head.

He hummed, dropping his pen in the inner hinge of his planner before closing it entirely. He sat it down on the table in front of him, stretching out his arms with a barely audible groan. 

“Come up here, I don’t want you to hurt your knees. You’ll get carpet burn…” he sighed, crossing his arms over his stomach as he peered into your eyes.

“But I’m comfortable” you sighed, propping your elbows up on his thigh.

“C’mon, your knees are gonna feel terrible,” he sighed, reaching over to scoop you up from under your shoulders just to set you next to him on the couch.

“I was comfortable on the floor, c’mon man…” you sighed, glaring at him through your peripheral. Your faux annoyance soon melted, bringing your temple to rest against his sturdy shoulder while he fidgeted with the silver chain around his neck.

“But you’ll be the first one to complain about knee pain later” he stated, shooting you an amused side-eye that mirrored your own.

“Yeah well I don’t get knee pain from sitting on the carpet—“ you teased, a bright and tongued smile on your face.

“Aht-! Behave yourself,” He mused, his brows shooting up as high as the muscles in his face would allow, a pinkish tint on the tip of his nose. Luigi was the last man to ever speak on the subject of behavior— after all, he was almost as ill-mannered and impatient as you.

You weren’t really sure where you stood with Luigi. The lines had long since blurred and distorted into a muddy and grotesque portrait— platonic wires plugging themselves into outlets of intimacy that deviated from the standard friendship.

You knew what his hair felt like between your interdigitals, the soft curls of cocoa brown finding their way into your palms every other night. It wasn’t a question of how it would happen next, it was only when.

It always started in similar ways. Two friends left alone for too long, searing seduction and sexual tension filling the empty space between the both of you.

It was almost pathetic the way you managed to tangle your limbs together every time you laid eyes on each other for too long. Hands gripping and grabbing at anything they could, like frustrated virgins relieving themselves of chastity.

“I’m so well-behaved,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at him with a lopsided smile. Your head fell to the side, its refuge found on the blade of his shoulder.

“Stop it” he giggled, low and steady in his chest before he shifted to pick up his planner once more. “You guys are evil…making me plan the trip alone.”

“We’re not evil, we just suck at planning. Isn’t organizing and planning your thing?” You joked, your top row of teeth pulling in your bottom lip in sarcastic banter.

“Oh, okay,” he laughed, the silver bridge of his readers slipping down the slope of his nose slightly with the sudden movement of his head being thrown back. 

“It’s okay, we’re just keeping the nerd well-fed,” you said, watching him fill in the last few notes and details in the tiny black lines.

He paused, his brows pinching together with a slightly stretched smirk on his lips. He was confused, of course, but deeply amused by your words.

“I don’t think I’m a nerd,” he said, readjusting his glasses with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

You stared at him, looking him up and down in silent protest. The glasses, the annotated planner in his hand, his monochrome Adidas hoodie, and his dorky black basketball shorts as he faced you with a boyish smile.

“Okay, Luigi…whatever you say!” You nodded, a clear tone of disbelief dripping from your words.

He paused, a small pout on his lips as he leaned back further onto the couch. 

“Am I actually that nerdy…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s ok you’re sexy, so you’re a hot nerd,” you said, fluffing the curls at the back of his head briefly.

“Wow. Thanks. I feel so much better. My heart is just overwhelmed with gratitude” he deadpanned, a subtle nod of his head really solidifying his joy.

 He nodded with an unenthusiastic smile, fiddling with the bow-tied drawstring on his black shorts, the cheap polyester bunching up slightly with his gentle tug on the knot.

You watched his hands, curiosity killing you slowly as you succumbed to the strange sensory captivation.

“You shouldn’t look at people’s dicks, it’s not polite” He murmured, letting a teasing chortle slip as his hands ceased their relentless stimming.

“Oh shut up,” you gasped, immediately lifting your head from his shoulder to land a playful blow on his chest. “I was watching you be an idiot with your shorts, actually.”

“Wow,” he drawled, carrying out the w sound for as long as he could while shaking his head slowly. “So you make me plan cuz I’m ’good at it’, AND make fun of me stimming? You’re two for two right now!”

“Oh my god I hate you” you sighed, scooting away from him.

“No, you love me,” he said, pulling you back towards him by the hem of your pink sweatpants. “My dick too, apparently.”

“Ew don’t be gross, Luigi,” you said, raising your eyebrows at his sudden forward attitude. He wasn’t normally handsy or forward, but this was a welcome change.

“We can do something gross,” he joked, a shy and almost childish giggle marking the end of his sentence as a reddish blush crept up to his cheeks.

“Luigi!” You scolded, sporting a shocked smile as he abandoned your gaze.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s the beer,” he sighed, throwing his hands up in faux defense.

You giggled, crossing your arms and sinking further into the couch, letting the tension melt away from your spine and shoulders.

“Imagine not being able to handle your liquor…” you teased, poking his chest with the manicured tip of your finger before spaying your hand over his chest, gently pushing him.

“I can handle my alcohol just fine,” he said, raising a brow at your hand as it slowly began to feel around his slightly firmed pec muscles.

“You know what else you can handle?” You mused, not even bothering the way you squished his pecs with giddy giggles.

“Oh, but I’m gross,” he laughed, his opposite eyebrow joining its twin in its raised shock. 

“Your boobs are big” you murmured, giving one final squish to both of his muscles before withdrawing your hands. To your surprise, Luigi grabbed your wrists, situating them on either of his shoulders as he pulled you into his lap by the dip of both of your hips.

“Actually, they’re called pectorals…not boobs,” he began, slowly diving into a lengthy rant on anatomy and how the male body differs from the female body. 

Your eyes began to glaze over, his hands holding the top of your hips with a firm, but docile grasp on your delicate skin. His deep and suave voice felt like fluttering feathers brushing across your soul, plucking your heartstrings with arousal.

“You have boobs, I don’t have boobs…I don’t think I do anyway, but I have been in the gym a lot more—“

He paused, a sudden wave of pleasure washing over him, a quiet and muffled grunt sounding from the depths of his throat as he was torn from his absent-minded rant. His eyes shot open, his pupils dilating and locking on your form.

Your head tilted forward, eyes gently closed in bliss, and tiny gusts of wind left your lips as you rocked your hips back and forth against his. His bottom lip curled over his bottom row of teeth, his tongue jetting out to brush against it.

“Oh wow…” he murmured, as quiet as distant waves on the salty shores— a reminder that good times were ahead the further along you rode. “That’s new.”

You smiled, your bottom lip coming between your teeth in lustful seduction. He held on to your hip bones, his breathing slowing down with the weight of each breath as he guided you back and forth.

“You’re rude, you weren’t even listening to my important anatomy lesson…I plan, cook, entertain you, organize for you, and help you get your rocks off and this is how you treat me?” He rasped, the front of his canines coming into view as he smiled while his tongue poked out between his teeth.

You whined breathily, his hands pressing you further against the large bulge in his shorts, angry and twitchy underneath the cheap synthetic fabric. He was big— intimidatingly girthy underneath you as it begged to be set free.

You wanted to go faster, your hips stuttering as you attempted to pick up the pace, but Luigi’s firm hold on your hips prevented you from grinding at your own pace. You huffed, glancing up at him with an annoyed glint in your eyes.

“Mmmh, not yet…you did this, not me. Finish what you started,” he mumbled, dragging your hips along his painfully slow. His head tilted back, the wall behind him smashing the top of his curls down as his eyes fluttered shut to concentrate on the feeling.

“Lu, c’mon, don’t be cruel…” you sighed, your face twisting in disappointment and arousal. The push and pull was enough to keep you tingly, the cotton on your panties soaking with each passing second, but not enough to really get you anywhere in under twenty minutes.

“Hm, am I? What have you been to me this whole time…” he chuckled, watching your expressions closely as annoyance and arousal fought for dominance on your face.

His hands were heavy, kneading the flesh at the back of your upper thighs possessively. Hot with fever— itching with lust, it was disgustingly intimate.

His hands traveled your body like it was normal, each depraved and desperate squeeze of his hands fueled by the hunger of a man starved. Your poor puffy and practically pulsing clot ached for action, anything to push you over the edge he kept you so far away from.

“Luigi…come on…” you whined, frantically rutting your hips against his. Much to your surprise, his hands didn’t restrict you from your fervent rocking, letting you capsize against him again and again like a creaky old boat seeking land in a storm.

Deep and sharp breaths filled his lungs, providing the necessary oxygen he needed to survive until his next ragged breath. He liked watching you lose your self-control on top of him— it was so beautiful.

He always had a habit of attempting to fix things, broken or not, and rebuilding them into something…better. What would look better to him, is if you were a babbling twitching mess on his lap.

“Is this too gross for you? Hmm?” He purred, his hands falling to his sides as he left you to do all the work yourself. He watched as you huffed and whined, rolling your hips against his painfully hard bulge again and again.

“Shut…shut up, please—“ you panted, hot and heavy breaths drying up your mouth as you focused your dwindling amounts of energy on riding each wave to euphoria.

“Aht, don’t be a brat,” he warned, popping you on the side of your thigh with a slight scrunch of his nose. “Say you’re sorry.”

By now your eyes burned with the same fire that nipped at your thighs; salty, sinful, seductive tears glossing your waterline better than Maybelline could ever hope to shine. Pulsing above him with quiet whines, your nails clawing into the muscles on his shoulders while his large hand rubbed the spot he slapped to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy…” you winced, the simple motion enough to humble yourself. You’d never expect him to be a rough man at all, but Luigi was a man full of surprises.

He chuckled briefly, his face twitching with building pleasure as he watched you work your legs and hips to keep your rhythm. He listened to your whines grow louder, the way your rhythm began to falter sent almost sadistic sparks of giddy excitement coursing through his veins.

“Aw, it’s not enough for you? Do you need my help?” He teased, his large palms coming up to rest on your hips in a taunting manner.

“Yes…yes, please, my legs hurt—! Need help,” you panted, leaning forward to press wet and open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw in hopes of convincing him to give you some mercy.

“Poor baby,” he huffed, pulling your sweatpants down your hips. “You need me for everything…planning, company, an orgasm…”

He sighed, pulling his shorts down just enough to expose his boxers, not even bothering to take them off as he pulled his dick out of the fly of his boxers. He slid your cotton panties to the side, the pads of his fingers pressing into the supple flesh of your sides, skewering you down onto him.

You cried out, the stretch just as unfamiliar as it was every single time. He was big; massive even as he took sharp advantage of the slick that had glossed up and decorated your folds from failing to bring yourself to an orgasm moments prior.

“I can’t say no to you…it’s a fucking problem…” he whined, using your smaller body like his own toy as he pistoned you up and down his girthy dick.

You moshed, tears of pleasure and painful sensitivity dribbling down your face as fast as you could blink. Mascara coursed from your lashes, violating the pristine, crystal-like water that once held nothing but emotion.

Dirty like muddy water, tainted with a reminder of how your very own friend makes you feel almost daily. Never mind the years of careful boundary building and shared experiences— you’d always find yourself tangled within each other.

Again. 

And again.

And again.

Paff! Paff! Paff! Paff!

It was disgusting—, your mingled moans and sounds of sticky and hot fabric meeting in the space between you repeatedly. Soaked panties sticking to your lips, boxers caving in with the weight of dribbled precum and sticking to his lower abdomen.

He was a freak for not bothering to take his boxers off, fully aware of the consequences if he chose to keep them on. Luigi didn’t seem to care, however, he was overjoyed with the aspect of you ruining his perfectly new Calvin Kleins.

No amount of money could replace the memory of you dripping down his length and onto the soft material with a loud, helpless shout of his name.

“Close…” you shrieked, using up the last of your breath to warn him of your rapidly approaching climax.

But he already knew that. He knew from the moment you began to flutter and convulse around him that you were nearing your edge.

“I know, I know…” he purred, using your hazy, pleasure-driven state to suck on the side of your neck.

He left blue and purple bruises in his wake, high enough to be annoying to attempt to hide later. If you could give him attitude and mouth, he could give you hickeys.

You stilled, a loud cry leaving your lips as your hands clawed and scratched at his back and shoulders. Warm white flashed beyond your eyelids, your poor twitchy cunt convulsing around Luigi’s dick and painting him pearly.

He watched in awe, his eyes honed in on the scene before him as you shuddered against his chest. At that moment, only one thought crossed his mind as he pistoned you up and down on him.

“Sorry…!” He whined, your slow eyes widening in realization as his thrusts became more and more erratic.

Heavy and milky ropes of cum shot directly through you, pollinating the flowers of your cervix with a loud grunt. His hands slammed your hips down, holding you in place while giving him a loud whimper.

“Luigi, what the fuck!” You moaned, slowly regaining your consciousness as he lazily continued to pump up into you.

“Moment of weakness…” He murmured, the devilish smirk glued to his fanged features like the cat that ate the canary. Purring with pride, and stained with the sweet sweet nectar of his reward.

His grey boxers were now a deep, charcoal grey, fucking every drop of his load back into you slowly.

“It’s fine. I'll buy you a plan B…”