#curved led panels

[visualkingsg]

Curve Your World: Redefine Visual Experience

Experience the future of visual immersion with our led screen curve in Singapore. Our cutting-edge curved displays offer unparalleled viewing angles, vibrant colors, and stunning clarity. Transform your space into a captivating hub with our customizable solutions for homes, businesses, and events. Elevate your visual experience today.

[sirfrogsworth]

I think in this new age of A.I. the general public is going to need to increase their photography and lighting literacy. The response to this photo has just been a shit show.

There are people pointing out perfectly normal edge lighting and misunderstanding how reflections work.

First the plane is parked at an angle. The tail is farther back than the nose. But also that is a curved surface and it tapers. It's reflecting the area to the right of the photo.

And the bottom of the plane is reflecting what is directly underneath. Which is the tarmac, not the crowd.

It should also be noted that photo was shot with a very telephoto lens and everything is super compressed. The crowd appears much closer to the airplane than they actually are.

But then someone who should have good understanding of lighting said this...

And now I'm worried for her clients. Because that's very... wrong.

Well, wrong-ish.

First, let's try to understand why this photo is setting off some alarm bells.

The crowd toward the rear is in shadow, but they are still very well exposed. But then there is also a bright light source creating a strong edge light on them. Looking at this photo with just the context of what is in it, there are some things that seem uncanny.

The information we do not have is the people in the shadow area are inside a very brightly lit airplane hangar.

So they have artificial light blasting them from the top.

But that light is still much dimmer than the sunlit areas outside so they appear in shade. But we are used to shade being much darker than areas in direct sun. So the balance seems off in our brain. We expect the people to be darker because we don't have the context of the bright hangar lights above them.

But the other issue is that the photo was post processed. It wasn't manipulated. The pixels weren't changed. But the exposure balance was altered.

If I were to guess, the original photo looked more like this...

But newer digital cameras can have 13 to 15 stops of dynamic range. And if you shoot in RAW, you can easily lift shadows and bring down highlights. You can balance the exposure so the dark parts aren't as dark and the bright parts aren't as bright. This photographer might have overdone it a bit in this case, but this is a fairly standard edit used to bring balance to photos.

And lastly, where does the edge light come from?

Edge lighting or backlighting or rim lighting (all the same) should probably be called wrap-around lighting if you want to be more accurate.

It comes from a homogenous light source that is larger than the subject being lit. So with my knife photo, I placed it on a large LED panel light.

The light source was bigger than the subject so it wrapped around the edges.

And I'm afraid the airplane is not nearly large enough to create a light source to wrap around everyone in the crowd. It isn't even reflecting direct sunlight. So I'm sorry to say that lighting designer was mostly mistaken despite the confidence.

The light source is... everything.

That entire red area I highlighted is the light source.

As well as everything above and everything to the sides.

And the biggest aspect of that light source would be the sky above. I think people always forget the sky is a light source. If you are seeing blue, you are seeing light. And I guess the plane is included in that, but that entire highlighted red area is so bright, and so filled with sunlight bouncing around, that it creates basically a giant softbox. It becomes a huge single light source for the people in the hangar.

If you look at footage taken from way inside the hangar, you can see the camera adjusting exposure for the crowd inside, but look at what happens to the sunlit area outside.

What does that look like?

A giant softbox.

A single homogenous light source blasting light inside the hangar.

The sun is so incredibly bright that even when it is not directly lighting something, the light just bouncing around outside is enough to overpower the very bright hangar lights.

So, what have we learned from this?

Perhaps people should hire me to be their lighting designer.

Though I'm sure she is actually very talented. She seems to work with stage lights and this is more physics and photography.

Phystography.

[recordsmycatdestroyed]

Miami Paneling A large, modern bedroom with white walls, a white floor, and porcelain tile walls is shown.

[urbanscenarios]

Kitchen Pantry (New York)

[ikkosu]

TO LIVE AND TO SERVE

part three

(sentinel.gn.miner.reader)warnings : mild nsfw!!

one, two, three

HE'S  a lot more quiet when he's alone.

You found him in the Thirteenth suite (where the Prime's statues were concocted in tribute to their deaths, as well as serving as the strategy room for military use).

He was by the round table, nursing a cup of energon while he stared blankly ahead, lost in the colorful blurs of the Iaconian lights that shone through the arched glass windows.Three bottles of engex littered the table. To your baffled confusion, you also counted around thirteen cups, possibly more, on the ground, scattered.

Ever since he gave you the proposition to serve him, you hadn't interacted with the Prime for a while, given he was busy with his 'responsibility' as Prime and the most you'd seen him was his figure pottering along the halls and in and out of rooms. At these times, you tucked yourself away into your room, reading a book or exploring the limited areas of the castle you were permitted to use. Any farther than that were gauranteed a violation. He'd take you back to the mines.

You didn't want that. 

But in regards to his behavior, this has gotten quite frequent, you notice. After every conference about his expeditions, or a trivial meeting for that matter, led him cooped up in the Thirteenth Suite.

He was different.

No grandiose gestures, no banter, no anything —none of that pretense you know holds up everytime a crowd cheers. Watching him change through the screen and in here,  disconcerting wasn't the word you'd exactly use to describe him. Unpredictable was better. There was nothing more dangerous than a mech with unpredictable motives. 

You didn't know which side you preferred.

" There you are." 

You blinked out of your stupor and found him swivelled towards you. He tipped his helm back with a smile, placing his cup down. "Where have you been?" 

You weren't sure whether to step into the room or not so you teetered by the doorway and tightened your servo into a fist. 

"Exploring, my liege." You say, cautious. 

"You're not hiding away from me, are you?" He mused. 

You glance to the exit. " No, sir. Not at all. Airachnid showed me around ...and lost my way.." 

" Happens all the time. You'll get used to it.." He chuckled and patted his thighs, which spreads out a little to expose his panel. You look away, digits digging deeper into your palm.

 He cocked a brow and leaned back with his elbows both on the handle. "Second thoughts?" 

You didn't meet his gaze as you neared, fixated on a particular spot on the statue of the Prime behind him. Megatronus's mask. The hollow optics peered down. As though watching.

"Not at all." You say.

He hunched forward and held your waist, servos engulfing the entirety of the width. His digits glides over the intricate lines on your stomach, pressing against sensitive regions before feeling up your shoulder with his palms.

With a push against your back, you fell deeper into his embrace, servos a tacl against his shouders. You thought back to the drone with the dent on his chassis, and the image of Sentinel plunging a servo through your abdomen, sparks igniting, energon spooling out, plagued your mind. 

A little, you shake. He was too busy pressing is face against the spot between your shoulder and neck to notice you froze. With every vent of his intake and every touch of his wet, sticky lips against your cheek, angex prickles your olfactory sensors. Down the shoulder, his servos glides over the curve of your aft then to your thighs and squeezes it.

"Get on my lap." He nudged your jaw with his nose, breathy and eager. 

You swallowed. "Yes, my liege." 

"Oh, call me sir." He scoffed and leaned back as you swung your legs over his thighs. "It's pretentious when you say that." 

You don't say ...

You kept quiet, opting to put your servos on his shoulder while he tucked you close against his chassis. The servo on your back cupped the nape of your neck before pulling you close and into a wet kiss. You tensed up. However, he wasn't detterd and eased your mouth open with his glossa, large and slick , prodding against your own. 

Megatronus was behind, peering down. Watching.

" Feels good, doesn't it?" He said between breaths, tilting forward to taste the back of your mouth, dentas grazing your lips and tongue. 

You didn't know what to say. There was nothing worth saying, only putting your focus to breathe and not wince at how deep his digits are digging into your sides at how forceful he was trying to pull your body close. You made a sound as he tipped you forward, knees pressing against his side as he chased your mouth. 

In the moment of reprieve when he let go of your lips, you said "It does, sir." 

And Sentinel was about to lean in when the words register. He paused, pulled away and stared at you for a moment before laughing incredulously and, unfortunately, very deeply. You've never seen him this amused by what you've said. You could only strain your jaw not to be bothered by his reaction and shook along the vibration of his chassis. 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and optics, as though wiping off a tear. 

"You know I hate liars." Eventually, he says. " Especially when they go into detailed, detailed stories about how they're not..."

He leaned forward until his helm, through your viewpoint, was under Megatronus's and vividly vividly you had the feeling the surrounding statues were staring, hollow optics turned to one mech. 

Sentinel.

"Insanely ridiculous, don't you think?"

[heartmachinez]

Hyper Light Breaker: Meet Dro

Who was Dro?

Whoever she was, she is now transformed. What does she want?

And what is the pain behind her howl?

A glimpse into our wordless storytelling.

Hyper Light Drifter was a game well-known for its wordless storytelling. A quick Google search will yield dozens of videos and articles discussing the art of worldbuilding without words.

As Jake Theriault artfully describes in his analysis of the opening sequence of Drifter:

“We discover all we need to know about the world in one wordless sequence. And from there on out, all the discovery made by the player is done visually.”

While Hyper Light Breaker will not be entirely devoid of text (there will be UI and some loadout descriptions), we have made the decision to lean back into our strengths and reveal our world and mysteries therein through illustrated vignettes.

There is so much about the Hyper Light universe to discover. With Breaker, we’re excited to share more about the history of the world that led to the events of Drifter.

Our Character Artist, Isaak Ramos, has established a house style for our studio, inspired by the works of Katsuhiro Otomo.

Some key aspects include:

Clearly defined straights and minimal curves

Shading using a halftone pattern (and/or halftone+flat value)

And reasoning includes:

Effectively receives color blend modes

Meaningfully calls back to our influences and to our past without resorting to pixels

Adds gravity/seriousness

Quickly creates a more finished aesthetic that will support looser lines and different drawing styles

Let us hear from you!

What do you think about this return to wordless storytelling? And our panel art style?

And what’s going on with Dro?

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 14

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2214

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, Crowley being Crowley.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

When the SUVs pulled up to what looked like a heavily guarded wrought iron gate, attached to a thick brick or concrete wall, your heart almost felt like it would beat out of your chest. Dean at least still had his arm over your shoulders, holding you close, but your eyes were focused on the things outside. Outside the gates, all you could make out were the tall hedges and trees that had grown past the top of the wall, which you assumed encompassed the property. There were a few different types of vines, but they looked as though they’d been repeatedly cut back.

You wanted to ask where they’d taken you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak at the moment, even after what the judge had said. As the gates began to open, you felt like you were almost holding your breath. The driveway was neatly kept, winding its way through a pedicured landscape of trees, hedges, and flower beds. The mansion of a house where the SUVs stopped took your breath away. It was the most elegant and extravagant home you’d ever seen in person. The agent next to Benny opened the door, stepped out, and then held the door for the three of you. You swore your jaw had hit the pavement as you stepped out, staring up at the mansion before you when that Scottish accent pulled your gaze to the man coming down the steps.

“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley stated, seeming quite pleased.

“What’s going on?” you asked, relieved it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaught family.

“I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

You were still fairly confused, but you followed Crowley into his mansion, Dean by your side and Benny bringing up the rear. The interior of Crowley’s mansion was even more impressive than the exterior. As you stepped inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling and elegant wallpaper, giving the space a sophisticated yet intimidating ambiance.

You walked through a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the second floor. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and you could see various pieces of antique furniture and art tastefully arranged throughout the space. It was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the courtroom.

Crowley led the way down a long hallway, the rich scent of polished wood and old books filling the air. You passed several rooms, each one more opulent than the last, until you reached a set of double doors. Crowley pushed them open to reveal a lavish dining room.

The dining room was dominated by a long, mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people. The table was already set for a smaller group, with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery laid out meticulously. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and several large windows allowed natural light to pour in, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

A chef and a few servants were bustling around, preparing the final touches for the meal. The aroma of bacon, cooking meat, and something that was perhaps a fine fish dish wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured to the chairs, taking his place at the head of the table. Dean guided you to a seat beside him, and Benny sat across from you, giving you a reassuring nod.

As you settled into the plush chair, Crowley smiled and spoke to the servants, “Begin serving, please.”

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, bringing out a covered plate for each of you, while others had platters with delectable deserts displayed on them. The aromas only made your mouth water further. Another servant set a chilled, open beer on a coaster near your, Dean’s, and even Benny’s plate while another poured Crowley a glass of what looked like fine wine.

Crowley dismissed the servant as he looked at you, his expression more serious now. “You must have many questions,” he said, taking a sip. “Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”

You wanted to answer him, but the servants set a dish down in front of the three of you, revealing what had smelled so good. Yours and Dean’s contained the most delicious-looking burger you’d ever seen, while Benny got something that was clearly something he hadn’t had in a long time. You were just too focused on your burger at the moment to even ask what it was.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley told you, seeing you focused on the meal and not his prior statement.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking over at him as Dean squeezed your knee in a reassuring way. “Why are you doing this for us?” you asked finally.

Crowley’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something softer behind his usual confident exterior. “Let’s just say, I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.” Dean leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”

Crowley chuckled, setting his glass down. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaughts lose for once.” Benny spoke up, his tone serious. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.” Crowley nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.” As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the initial shock of Crowley’s opulent home giving way to a sense of determination. You had allies in the fight, and together, you were going to bring the Vaughts to justice.

Halfway through the meal, the double doors opened, instantly pulling your attention to what looked like a butler. “They’re here, Sir,” he told Crowley.

“Ah, wonderful,” Crowley replied, delighted as a smile played at his lips. “Show them in.”

The butler nodded, and a few moments later, Sam, Ellen, Jodi, Bobby, Mary, and John came into the dining hall. You instantly stood as Ellen made her way to you, tears in both your eyes as you embraced her in a tight hug.

“Oh, honey,” she told you softly, and you heard the sadness and relief in her tone.

“I’m okay, Auntie,” you replied quietly.

Ellen held you at arm’s length, her eyes scanning your face as if reassuring herself that you were truly alright. “We’ve been worried sick about you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean, Sam, and even Benny embraced in hugs before Dean hugged John and Mary. Even Jodi and Bobby hugged the boys, then came over to you, giving you a soft, but relieved smile, embracing you in a hug. 

“We’re here for ya, kid,” John told you with the softest expression you’d ever seen on the man.

Crowley, ever the consummate host, gestured to the empty seats. “Please, join us. There’s plenty of food, and we’ve much to discuss.” As everyone settled around the table, the atmosphere shifted slightly. There was a sense of camaraderie, of a team coming together to face a common enemy. You wished that Jo could be there, as she was more like a sister to you than a cousin. And, oddly enough, even Cas and Garth. Just as you were finally feeling like you were relaxing, your mark began burning, horribly, a pained hiss leaving your lips just as Dean was getting out of his seat.

Crowley snapped his fingers a couple of times while you put your hand over your mark, missing whatever was being said. Moments later, though, Dean was putting cream on your mark. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he attempted to soothe you as the entire room had gone silent.

“Well, now, this changes things,” Crowley mused from where he sat, leaning back in his chair. “Why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“About what?” you asked, only wincing slightly as you looked at him.

“With that,” he began, gesturing to your mark, “we’ve got a little more leverage.”

You tried to look down at your mark, but with where it was, you couldn’t see it. Frustrated, you looked back at him, “What are you talking about?”

He practically laughed, “Dean, you haven’t told her?” 

All Dean did was glare at him and the others stayed silent, which only annoyed you further. “Tell me what?” you snapped, clenching your hands in your lap.

“I was waiting,” Dean managed through a clenched jaw, clearly annoyed.

“Will someone tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I’m tired of this, of all of you keeping secrets from me,” you snapped at them, looking around the table as your anger finally boiled over. When no one spoke up, you just got up and walked off, practically slamming the dining hall doors. 

Crowley sighed and nodded to one of his servants, who promptly followed you. The servant was a young woman with kind eyes, and she caught up with you just as you were starting to feel lost in the labyrinthine halls of the mansion.

“Miss, please allow me to show you to a room where you can rest. Your bags have already been brought up,” she said softly.

Too tired to argue, you nodded and followed her. She led you up a grand staircase and down a long corridor to a beautifully furnished room. “If you need anything, just ring this bell,” she instructed, indicating a small ornate bell on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed as she left the room.

Meanwhile, back in the dining hall…

Dean, still fuming, stood up, “We agreed to tell her when her mark came in more.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, although he wasn’t pleased about his secrecy, “It slipped my mind. Besides, she has a right to know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t helping. How did she not notice one of the letters came in all the way?”

Dean sighed and sat back down, “She never looked in the mirror at it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to.”

“Son, she’s gonna be more hurt if you wait much longer,” John told him sincerely.

“Does she have at least an idea of how you’re connected to all this?” Crowley asked, although clearly frustrated, but needing further information.

“Not completely,” Dean reluctantly answered.

“Benny, did she even pay attention when Dean testified?” Sam asked, fairly puzzled how you wouldn’t have found out.

Benny sighed, “No. I was talkin’ to her. Tryin’ to help er’ relax a little.”

Crowley was usually a calm, collected man, but this frustrated him: "What does she know?”

Dean grabbed his beer, taking a sip before he answered, staring at the label, “I told her I know she’s my soul mate, part of the thing with Lisa, and that she’s an empath.”

“That’s it?” Bobby exclaimed in annoyance and frustration.

“That explains why she knows we’re hiding something,” Mary sighed, looking back at the closed dining hall doors.

“I didn’t want to make it harder on her,” Dean mumbled quietly.

“Dean, she has to be told, before her birthday, or it’s gonna hurt her more, and not just emotionally,” Sam told him, his tone soft but firm. “I know what I told you before, but she’s quickly running out of time.”

Dean’s attention went to the doors, his mind on only you and what you were feeling. He’d hated not telling, not letting himself get closer to you than you’d let him. He’d felt everything from the moment he’d seen you that first day at the bar, and it was tearing him up inside that you still doubted him. Sam had warned him of the risks of waiting too long, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time and he didn’t want to do it once you two had gotten stuck in that bunker. “Dean, are you even listened?” Crowley asked him, frustrated and now leaning forward in his seat, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I wasn’t listening,” he grumbled.

An annoyed sound left Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Her birthday is in two days. Either you tell her tomorrow, or I’ll have to make sure the doctor is here.” His tone was of concern for you more than for Dean.

Dean looked down at his beer, “She’s gonna hate me, but… I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Son, she’s gonna be mad at all of us, but she’s not going to hate us, especially not you,” John tried to reassure him, feeling bad for what not only his son had to go through, but also what you have had to endure.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

Story Master List Main Master List

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@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

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@megs-gadom

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[badathumanemotions]

Beyond Expectations (V1)

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Category: Smut CW: Degradation Kink, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Riding, Fingering, Creampie, Cumplay, Size Kink, Small d Spencer, Virgin Spencer, Dominate Reader. WC: 8,981 After driving Spencer home he invites Y/N in out of the rain.

Spencer has always been insecure about his size, Y/N shows him he has nothing to worry about. (Not Poof Read) Master List

Spencer Reid was a man of routine, his life as meticulously organized as the stacks of paperwork lining his desk at the BAU. His spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose as he peered into the abyss of criminal psychology. The dimly lit room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit hummed with the murmur of his colleagues' voices, each one a cog in the intricate machine of justice. His mind raced, piecing together the puzzle of the latest crime scene with the finesse of a master chess player.

Yet amidst the chaos of their work, Spencer's thoughts often drifted to his colleague, Y/N L/N. Her sharp wit and unyielding resolve had captured his attention from the moment he had met her. He'd noticed the way her eyes sparkled when she cracked a case, the gentle sway of her hips as she walked, and the softness of her lips when she spoke. But it was her confidence that truly fascinated him, a contrast to his own insecurities about his physical appearance.

The rain had started to fall in a gentle patter against the office window, casting a gloomy veil over the city. Spencer, lost in thought, barely registered the droplets of water tracing patterns down the glass. Y/N, noticing his preoccupation, approached him with a knowing smile. "Looks like you're going to need a ride home tonight, Reid," she said, her voice like a siren's call, pulling him from his introspection.

Spencer looked up at her, his heart skipping a beat. He had always felt a palpable tension between them, a silent dance of desire that he was too shy to acknowledge. But the way she offered, the smoulder in her eyes, suggested something more than just a friendly gesture. He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Thank you, Y/N. I'd appreciate that."

They made their way to the elevator, the silence thick with unspoken intentions. The doors slid open, revealing the empty metal box that would take them down to the parking garage. She stepped in first, her heels clicking against the floor as she turned to face him. Spencer followed, his eyes drawn to the curve of her hips as she leaned against the railing. The doors closed with a soft thud, sealing them in their own little world.

Y/N reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor, her hand lingering on the panel a moment longer than necessary. She stepped closer, her body heat radiating towards him.Spencer's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild animal trying to escape. The elevator descended, the lights flickering as it passed each floor. The cables groaned with the weight of their anticipation, each second stretching into an eternity.

When the elevator reached the parking garage, the doors slid open to reveal the dimly lit space. The scent of rain and asphalt filled the air as they stepped out into the cool embrace of the night. Y/N led the way to her car, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the cavernous garage.

They slid into the confined space of her car, the leather seats cool against their skin. She turned the ignition, the engine purring to life, and reversed out of the spot. As they drove through the garage, the headlights cast eerie shadows on the concrete walls, illuminating their faces in brief moments of stark clarity. Spencer's heart hammered in his chest as he stole glances at Y/N, her eyes focused on the road ahead, her lips curled into a knowing smile.

He tried to start a casual conversation, his voice wavering slightly. "So, how was your day?" But his usual eloquence had abandoned him, leaving only a stumbling mess of words. He felt his cheeks flush, the heat of his embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Y/N glanced at him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "My day was fine, Reid," she replied, her tone a bit more playful than usual. "How about yours?"

Spencer's mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything, to say that wouldn't make him sound like a babbling fool. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of nerves. "It was… productive," he managed, his voice a whisper compared to the roar of his thoughts.

Y/N's smile grew wider, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "It's Friday night, Reid. We've got a rare free weekend ahead of us. You should let your hair down," she said, her eyes flicking to the side of his head where his short, slick hair grazed his ears.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Spencer swallowed, his throat dry. "I-I don't know if I know how to do that," he confessed, his gaze drifting to her profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights.

The rain grew heavier as they approached his apartment, the wipers swiping back and forth in a rhythmic dance to keep the windshield clear. Y/N slowed down, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she navigated the treacherous streets. Water gushed in rivers along the gutters, the night's darkness closing in around them. The city lights were a blurred mosaic through the downpour, reflecting off the wet pavement.

Spencer couldn't help but worry about her driving in such conditions. He knew she was capable, but the intensity of the storm was unnerving. "Are you sure you're okay to drive in this?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N shot him a sideways glance, her eyes filled with a mischievous glint. "I've driven in worse, Reid," she said, her voice a sultry purr that seemed to resonate through the car. "But if you're worried, I could always wait the storm out at your place"

The suggestion was loaded, a silent invitation that made Spencer's stomach flip-flop with excitement. His cheeks burned with a blush that was impossible to hide in the dim car interior. He knew what she was offering, and the thought of it made his heart race. His mind raced with scenarios, each more tantalizing than the last. He wanted that so badly, the ache in his chest was almost painful.

As they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the rain had turned into a torrential downpour. The droplets hit the windshield with such ferocity that it was hard to see anything beyond the smeared lights of the other vehicles. Spencer's eyes remained glued to Y/N, his breath shallow, his thoughts racing faster than the water droplets that danced across the glass.

Her proposition hung in the air, thick and charged like the electricity that crackled outside. He tried to respond with the same cool confidence she exuded, but his voice betrayed him, coming out as a strained whisper. "I-I guess that could work." The words barely left his mouth before he felt a rush of heat to his cheeks, hoping she couldn't hear the desperation in his voice.

They dashed through the rain, their laughter mingling with the sound of the downpour. Spencer fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking with anticipation. Finally, the lock clicked open, and they tumbled into the warm embrace of his apartment. Y/N shrugged off her wet coat, revealing the curve of her breasts under her tight blouse, and Spencer couldn't help but stare. He felt a sudden jolt of excitement, mixed with a hint of fear. He had always been so sure that she was out of his league.

The apartment was a testament to his solitary life, filled with towering bookshelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The scent of old paper and leather bound volumes filled the air, creating a cozy cocoon that was as much a part of Spencer as his glasses. Y/N took it all in with a nod of approval, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took a step closer to him.

"Nice place," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. She moved through the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the sofa, her hips swaying in a way that was both mesmerizing and infuriating. Spencer felt his throat tighten as he watched her, his eyes drawn to the way the fabric of her blouse clung to her damp skin.

"Thanks," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. He closed the door behind them, the sound of the storm outside now muffled by the thick barrier of his apartment. The room felt smaller with her in it, the air charged with a tension that made it difficult to breathe.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with something that made his stomach flip. "You know, Reid," she began, her voice a sweet caress that seemed to stroke his very soul. "You've always been so… proper." She took a step closer, her heels clicking with every movement. "But I have a feeling that underneath all that," she paused, her eyes raking over his lanky frame, "there's a wild side just dying to come out and play."

Spencer swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He had never seen this side of Y/N, this seductive, playful creature that seemed to have emerged from the shadows of the storm. Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself nodding in silent agreement.

"But you know," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I've noticed something about you, Reid." She took another step closer, the scent of her perfume, something floral and exotic, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. "You're always so… inhibited. So concerned with what others think."

Spencer's heart hammered in his chest as she reached out, her fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt. He could feel the heat of her body, so close to his own, and he knew that this was his moment. He had to be brave, had to take the plunge into the unknown.

Y/N stepped closer, her breath warm against his skin as she leaned in. "I want you, Reid," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill of excitement through him. "But I need to know that you can handle me."

Her hand slid down his chest, her fingers trailing over the thin fabric of his shirt to rest on his hip bone. He sucked in a sharp breath, his mind racing with the possibilities of what she meant.

Spencer had never been with a woman like Y/N. In fact, he had never been with a woman in the way he knew she was suggesting. A solitary blowjob in college had been the extent of his sexual experience. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or ridicule.

But what he saw was something else entirely. It was a hunger, a need that seemed to consume her. And in that moment, Spencer realized that she didn't just want him; she wanted all of him, even the parts he had always been so ashamed of. The idea was intoxicating, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once.

He had always been self-conscious about his size, his small cock a constant source of inadequacy in his mind. The few times he had been intimate with others, their reactions had ranged from polite surprise to outright rejection. He had resigned himself to a life of quiet solitude, his only release the occasional visit to a porn site where he could find comfort in the anonymity of his own hand.

But here was Y/N, the woman he had secretly desired for so long, telling him that she wanted him, despite his imperfections. He felt a rush of emotions, a heady mix of excitement and fear that made his knees feel like they might give out. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

Y/N reached up and slipped her hand behind his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in her eyes. Spencer's hands found her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lost himself in the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, a silent promise of the pleasure that awaited them both.

The fear from his high school days crept into his mind, memories of humiliation and rejection. But he pushed them aside, focusing on the here and now. This wasn't a prank, this was real. Y/N's body pressed against his, her curves moulding to his angular frame, was all the proof he needed. He wanted this, needed this, more than he had ever needed anything before.

Spencer's hands trembled as they found their way to the buttons of her blouse, his fingers fumbling in his haste. He felt her chuckle against his mouth, a sound that was both soothing and arousing. "Easy there, Einstein," she murmured, her hands covering his, guiding him. "Let me do the honours."

With a deftness that seemed to belie the urgency of the moment, Y/N began to undo the buttons on her wet shirt. One by one, they slipped through their holes, revealing the skin beneath. Her bra was damp, the fabric clinging to her breasts like a second skin. Spencer couldn't tear his eyes away, his mouth going dry at the sight of her.

When she had undone enough, she shrugged off the garment, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. He had seen them before, in his fantasies, but never so close, never so real. Her breasts were full and heavy, the nipples hard little points that begged for his touch. He reached out tentatively, his fingertips brushing the soft flesh. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.

Y/N reached behind her, unclasping her bra with an ease that spoke of experience. The fabric fell away, and Spencer's breath caught in his throat. Her breasts were perfect, round and firm, tips peaked with desire. He cupped one in his hand, feeling the weight of it, the warmth of her skin against his palm. His thumb brushed over the nipple, and she moaned, arching her back.

The sound was like music to his ears, a symphony of need that surged through his body. He leaned down, capturing her nipple with his mouth, sucking gently. Y/N's hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The taste of her was like nothing he had ever experienced, a heady mix of salt and sweet that made him want more.

Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. Spencer moaned against her skin, his hands exploring the contours of her body. He felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips, the softness of her curves, the strength of her muscles. It was like he was discovering a treasure trove of sensations, each one more intoxicating than the last.

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt his touch, her body responding to him in ways she hadn't expected. She had always known that Spencer was a man of hidden depths, but this side of him was something she had never imagined. She reached down, her hand slipping between them to unbuckle his belt.

Spencer's eyes widened slightly as he felt her tugging at his clothing. He had always been the one in control, the one with the answers. But now, with her standing so close, her hands so confident on his body, he felt a thrill of submission that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her fingers deftly untied his tie, the smooth fabric sliding through her grip as she pulled it away from his neck. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, her movements deliberate and precise, as if she were disarming a bomb. Each button released with a soft snick, revealing more of his pale, scrawny chest. He felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but it was quickly drowned out by the hunger in her eyes.

As she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, Spencer felt the cold air of the room hit his skin, sending goosebumps racing down his spine. Y/N's gaze travelled over his chest, lingering on the sharp points of his hip bones before dropping to the bulge in his pants. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth as she reached for the zipper.

"Let's see what you're working with, Reid," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Spencer's heart was racing as he felt the zipper of his pants slide down. He knew what she would find, and the fear of rejection was a heavy weight in his stomach. But there was also something else, something darker, something that sent a thrill of excitement through his veins. The thought of her seeing him, all of him, and still wanting him was intoxicating.

Her hand slipped inside, her warmth surrounding his cock. He gasped as she wrapped her fingers around him, feeling the softness of her skin against his own. He was hard, so hard it was almost painful, and she chuckled at his obvious arousal.

"So tiny," she murmured, her voice filled with mock disappointment. Spencer felt his face flush, his insecurities rising to the surface like a bubble of lava threatening to consume him. But then she squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over the sensitive head, and his body responded with a jolt of pleasure that washed away his doubt.

Y/N leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "But size isn't everything, is it, Reid?" Her words were a whisper, a dark promise that sent a shiver down his spine. "Sometimes, it's the little things that make the biggest difference."

Her hand began to move, stroking him in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made his knees weak. Spencer's eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure almost too much to bear. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with each stroke, he found himself getting harder, his body betraying his fears.

"Look at me," Y/N demanded, her voice firm. Spencer's eyes snapped open, meeting hers. The fire in her gaze burned away any last traces of doubt.

With a sense of determination that surprised even himself, Spencer stepped out of his pants, his small cock standing proud despite his nerves. Y/N's eyes never left his, a smirk playing on her lips as she sank to her knees before him.

The coldness of the floor against her skin was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from Spencer's body. She took him in her hand, her thumb tracing the length of his shaft. "You know," she said, her voice a purr, "a cock like this needs some special attention."

Spencer's eyes widened slightly at her words, his heart racing as he tried to interpret the meaning behind them. He had always feared that his size would be a disappointment, but the way she looked at him, the hunger in her gaze, made him feel anything but inadequate.

Y/N leaned in closer, her breath hot against his skin as she took his cock in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip, teasing him before taking him deeper. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, a moan escaping his lips as she began to suck with an enthusiasm that belied the size of her mouthful. Her hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them as she took him in deeper, her eyes never leaving his.

"So, Reid," she murmured, her voice muffled around his cock, "I've got to admit, I didn't expect you to be quite so… compact." She pulled back, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "But I've got a feeling this little guy is going to be a choking hazard of a different kind." Her words were like a knife, cutting through the last of his inhibitions. He watched, entranced, as she took him in again, her cheeks hollowing out as she worked her mouth over his shaft.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made his toes curl. Despite the harshness of her words, Spencer felt his cock swell in her grasp. He knew he should be offended, but instead, he was turned on beyond belief. The way she talked about him, the way she degraded his size, it was like a drug, a thrill that he hadn't anticipated.

Her eyes never left his, watching his every reaction as she continued to suck him off. Each time she pulled away, she'd whisper something degrading, something that should have made him feel small and insignificant, but instead it made him feel aroused. She was playing a game, and he was all too eager to play along.

"Mm, you like that, don't you, Reid?" she said, her voice thick with satisfaction as she licked her lips. "You're such a slut for it, aren't you?"

Spencer could only moan in response, his eyes glazed over with lust. He had never been talked to like this before, never been made to feel so…small. But instead of shrinking away, he felt himself growing harder, his body craving more of her degradation.

Y/N noticed his lack of verbal response and pulled away, her eyes narrowing. "I said, do you like that?" she demanded, her grip on his cock tightening.

Spencer's breath was ragged, his eyes snapping back to hers. "Y-yes," he stuttered, his voice barely audible.

Y/N's smirk grew as she released his cock with a wet pop. She rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving his. "Good," she said, her voice still that sweet, sultry purr. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

With a grace that seemed almost predatory, she reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. The fabric whispered against her skin as it slid down her hips, pooling at her feet like a dark waterfall.

Spencer's eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, now only clad in a scrap of cotton that barely contained her. Y/N stepped out of the pool of fabric, standing before him in nothing but her drenched panties. The fabric clung to her, revealing the tantalizing outline of her sex.

Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped to his knees, his cock still standing proud despite the cold floor beneath him. "Please," he begged, his voice thick with need. "Let me taste you."

Y/N's smirk grew wider as she stepped closer, the damp fabric of her panties brushing against his face. She could feel his breath, hot and heavy, against her skin. "You want to make it up to me for your tiny cock, don't you?" she taunted, her voice a siren's song.

Spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew he was falling into a dangerous game, but he couldn't help himself. The desire to please her, to show her that he could be what she needed, was all-consuming.

"Why should I let you?" she asked, her voice a silky challenge.

Spencer's eyes searched hers, finding the desire that lay just beneath the surface of her playful banter. He knew that she was testing him, pushing his boundaries to see just how far he would go. And he was more than willing to oblige.

"Because I want to," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I'll do anything to make you feel good."

Y/N's eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and desire. "Anything?" she repeated, her hand sliding down to the waistband of her soaked panties.

Spencer's heart hammered in his chest as he nodded. "Anything," he confirmed, his voice thick with need.

With a dramatic flourish, Y/N slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. She was bare before him, her sex glistening with arousal. Spencer's mouth watered at the sight, his cock pulsing with excitement.

Her pussy was a thing of beauty, a small strip of hair leading down to her swollen pussy lips. Spencer felt his heart race as he took in the view, his eyes drinking in every detail. The scent of her desire filled the air, a sweet musk that made his head spin.

"Prove it," she challenged, stepping closer so that his nose was almost touching her sex. Spencer didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. She was sweet and salty, a flavor that was uniquely her. He moaned, his hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips as he buried his face between her legs.

Y/N's hands found their way into his gelled hair, her nails digging into his scalp as he began to lick her in earnest. He knew he had to make this good, to show her that size didn't matter. His tongue danced over her clit, tracing the sensitive flesh with a gentle pressure that had her hips bucking against his face.

The sound of her moans filled the room, drowning out the storm outside. Spencer felt a surge of power, his inhibitions slipping away as he tasted her, felt her tremble against his mouth. He had read about this, studied it in his endless quest for knowledge, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it.

Her legs began to quiver, and she reached down to steady herself, her hand finding the back of his head. "Don't stop," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea that only spurred him on. Spencer's tongue slid inside her, exploring her wetness, tasting her deeply. He felt her thighs tighten around his head, her hips moving in time with his mouth.

Y/N's moans grew louder, her breath coming in pants as she thrust against his tongue. The sight of her, so powerful and in control, yet so vulnerable in her pleasure, was more erotic than any of the images he had encountered in his vast research. He lapped at her, his tongue swirling around her clit, feeling her body tense with each pass.

Spencer's hands reached around to steady himself, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. He felt the muscles clench beneath his touch, her hips moving in a silent demand for more. He eagerly obeyed, his tongue delving deeper, his hands squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that matched the pulse of his own desire.

As Y/N's moans grew more insistent, Spencer felt a thrill of triumph. He had done this, brought her to this point of pleasure with nothing but his mouth and his willingness to submit to her every whim. He licked and sucked, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her against his tongue.

"Oh, fuck, Reid," she gasped, her voice shaky. "You're so good at this." Her praise was like a balm to his soul, soothing the wounds of his past rejections. He felt his cock throb, the blood rushing to his head as he worked harder, his tongue flicking and teasing her swollen clit.

"You're… you're so… oh god," she panted, her nails digging into his scalp. He felt a rush of pleasure at her words, his own insecurities momentarily forgotten. He had never been praised like this, never been told that he was good at something so intimate, so raw.

Her hips bucked harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she neared the edge. Spencer's tongue moved faster, flicking and teasing, pushing her closer to the precipice. And then, with a cry she came, her juices flooding his mouth and painting his face with her essence.

Spencer sat back on his heels, watching as Y/N's legs wobbled. Her breath came in short pants, her eyes glazed with pleasure. He felt a smug satisfaction, his cock pulsing with the need for more. He reached for his glasses, wiping them clean with the hem of his discarded shirt before sliding them back onto his nose.

"Your turn," she murmured, her voice a seductive promise. She reached for him, her hand guiding him to his feet. The room was a mess, their clothes scattered like confetti on the floor, but all Spencer could focus on was the desire in her eyes.

He took her hand, leading her to his bedroom with a confidence he hadn't felt in years. The room was sparse, his bed the only real piece of furniture. It was neat, almost monastic in its simplicity. But the storm outside painted the walls with shadows, giving the room an atmosphere of barely contained passion.

"Lay back," she ordered, her voice low and commanding. Spencer complied, his heart racing as he felt the mattress give beneath him. He watched as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips with a grace that belied the fierce hunger in her eyes.

Y/N begins to grind her pussy against his cock, the tip nudging her clit with every movement. Spencer can feel the warmth of her, the wetness of her arousal coating his shaft. Her eyes never leave his, a silent challenge that fuels his own desire. Despite his small size, he knows that he can give her what she needs, that he can make her feel good.

"Let's see if your tiny cock can pleasure me," she says, her voice a purr that sends shivers down his spine. The words should sting, but instead, they only serve to excite him further. He feels a thrill of anticipation, his cock twitching in response to her challenge.

Y/N's wetness coats his tip as she lowers herself onto him, the slick heat of her pussy making him gasp. Slowly, oh so slowly, she takes him in, her eyes never leaving his. The feeling is indescribable, the pressure of her tightness surrounding him, the way she seems to grip him despite his size.

"Mm, so small," she whispers, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she sits up, her pussy fully engulfing his cock. "But you're so eager, aren't you?" Spencer nods, unable to form words, his eyes never leaving hers. The way she teases him, her words like a whip that stings but also drives him wild with desire.

"I'll bet you've never been with a woman who can handle something so… diminutive," she says, her hips rocking back and forth, her pussy clenching around him. Her movements are deliberate, each roll of her hips a silent declaration of his inadequacy. But Spencer finds himself growing harder, the sting of her words only adding to the intensity of his arousal. He watches as her breasts bounce with every movement, the sight of her enjoying herself making his heart race.

"Do you like feeling so… insignificant?" she purrs, her hands sliding down to cup her own breasts, her thumbs flicking at the erect nipples. "Do you like knowing that I could take any of your cock-sure colleagues and make them feel like kings, while you're stuck with this?"

Spencer's eyes widen at her words, his cock pulsing in response. He's never been so turned on by his own humiliation. The feeling is strange, intoxicating, like a secret he never knew he wanted to keep. He nods, unable to speak, his throat tight with lust.

The plushness of Y/N's thighs and ass slapped down on his bony hips with a sound that echoed through the room, each impact sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. It was a symphony of desire, a rhythm that spoke of her dominance and his submission. He could feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her flesh against his own, the slickness of their mingled arousal.

"Is that all you've got, Reid?" she taunted, her voice a whip crack of challenge. "This is what you're going to give me?" Her words stung, but not in the way he expected. Instead, they fueled a burning need inside him, a need to prove himself, to show her that even with his small cock, he could make her scream with pleasure.

Spencer's grip tightened on the bedsheets, his eyes never leaving hers as she continued to ride him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. He knew he had to do more, had to push her over the edge. He reached up, his hands finding her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Y/N gasped, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before snapping open again.

"Is that all you've got, Reid?" she sneered, her voice dripping with mock disappointment. "This is what you call fucking me?"

Spencer's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He knew she was playing with him, pushing his buttons, but he couldn't help the way her words affected him. He bucked his hips upwards, trying to drive himself deeper into her, to silence her with his passion. But she was right, his cock was small, and she was so tight around him, like a fist.

"I can do better," he murmured, his voice a mix of desperation and defiance. "I'll make you cum."

Her smirk grew wider as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest. "Prove it," she whispered, her breath hot in his ear.

Spencer's hands slid down to her hips, his grip firm as he guided her movements. He began to thrust upwards, meeting her every downward motion with a force that belied his scrawny frame. He watched as her eyes grew wide, her mouth parting in a silent gasp as he found a rhythm that hit just the right spot.

Her breath grew ragged, her tits bouncing with each thrust. He could see the beginnings of a flush spreading across her chest, her nipples hardening into tight buds. Her walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock in a way that was both maddening and exhilarating. He knew she was close, could feel the tension coiling in her body like a spring ready to snap.

With a feral growl, Spencer reached down to her clit, his fingers trembling with anticipation. He needed her to come before he did, to show her that even with his small cock, he could satisfy her. His thumb circled the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. Y/N's eyes shot open, meeting his with a look of surprise and desire.

Her hips began to move faster, her breath hitching in her throat as she felt the beginnings of her climax building. Spencer felt it, too, the way her walls fluttered around him, the way her muscles began to quiver. He knew he had her, knew he could give her what she wanted.

He'd trained himself for this moment, countless nights spent alone in his apartment, his hand around his small cock, willing himself to hold back, to last longer. He'd read about it, studied the techniques, the psychological tricks that could make a man with his size feel like a god in the bedroom. And now, as he felt Y/N's pussy clench around him, he knew it had paid off.

Spencer's thrusts grew more deliberate, his movements more precise. Each time she moaned, each time her walls clenched around him, he felt his resolve strengthen. He knew that for men like him, it wasn't about size, but about the art of pleasure. It was about knowing the body, about reading the subtle cues, the hidden language of desire.

Y/N's voice dropped to a sultry purr as she whispered, "That's it, baby. Show me what you can do with that little thing." Her words were a drug, a potent cocktail of degradation and praise that went straight to his head. He felt his cock twitch, his movements growing more urgent as he chased her orgasm.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, her hands on his chest as she began to ride him in earnest. Spencer watched, his eyes glued to the sight of her pussy swallowing his small cock, her clit grinding against his pelvis. The sight was enough to make him feel like he was going to explode. He reached up, his hands cupping her breasts as he squeezed and pinched her nipples in time with her movements.

Her eyes snapped to his, the challenge clear. "You like watching me take your tiny cock, don't you?" she gasped, her hips moving faster, her pussy tightening around him. Spencer could feel the beginnings of his own climax building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke. He nodded, unable to form words, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N's movements grew erratic, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. Spencer felt her tighten around him, her pussy clamping down like a vice. And then, with a strangled cry, she came, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before, his own cock pulsing with the power of her release.

Her eyes snapped shut, her head thrown back as she rode the waves of pleasure. Spencer watched her, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, the sight of her coming on his cock pushing him to the edge.

Y/N's pussy was tight around him, pulsing with the aftershocks of her climax. He could feel the wetness of her release, the warmth of it against his skin. He was so close, his entire body coiled tight like a spring.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, Spencer came. His eyes rolled back in his head, his back arching off the bed as ropes of cum shot from his cock, filling her completely. It was more than he had ever produced, a testament to the intensity of his arousal.

Y/N felt the warmth of his release, the sheer volume of it a surprise. Her pussy was flooded with his cum, the sensation of it dripping out of her making her gasp. She had never felt so filled, so used, and it was intoxicating. She stared down at him, her own climax still echoing through her body.

Spencer's eyes were glazed with pleasure, his chest heaving with the effort of his release. He watched her, his own arousal mixing with a hint of vulnerability that she found utterly endearing. "Did I… did I do okay?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Y/N's smirk softened into a smile as she leaned down to kiss him. "More than okay," she murmured, her voice a warm caress against his lips. "You're a quick study."

Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his chest tightening with a feeling that was a mix of satisfaction and affection. He had done it, proven to her that size didn't define his worth as a lover. Her praise was a balm to his soul, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him for so long.

Y/N slid off of him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She lay down beside him, her skin glistening with sweat and the remnants of their passion. The storm outside had reached a crescendo, the rain pounding against the windows.

Spencer looked down at his cock, now softening, and felt a moment of doubt. But before it could take root, she reached over and took his hand, interlocking their fingers. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine warmth.

Her praise was all he needed to banish his insecurities. He turned to her, pulling her into his arms. They lay there, their bodies tangled together, listening to the storm outside. The room was filled with the scent of sex and the quiet sounds of their mingled breaths.

Spencer felt a sudden need to take care of her, to clean her up after their passionate encounter. He pulled away gently and whispered, "I'll be right back." He slid out of bed, his legs unsteady from the intensity of their lovemaking.

The bathroom was a short walk away, but it felt like a mile as he stumbled through the darkened hallway, his mind racing with the reality of what had just happened. He flicked on the light and grabbed a soft washcloth, running it under the warm tap. The water was like a lifeline, grounding him in the moment.

Returning to the bedroom, he found Y/N exactly as he'd left her, sprawled across his bed, the sheets a rumpled mess around her. The sight of her made his heart skip a beat, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride.

"Let me," he murmured, his voice a soft request as he approached her with the washcloth. He was eager to show her that he cared, that he was attentive to her needs even in the aftermath of their passion.

Y/N watched him through hooded eyes, her breathing still ragged from her orgasm. She nodded, a hint of curiosity in her gaze as she spread her legs wider, giving him full access. Spencer's eyes fell to her sex, still wet and swollen from their encounter. He felt a thrill run through him, a mix of awe and desire as he knelt beside the bed.

He took the washcloth and gently began to clean her up, his eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of his cum slowly leaking out of her pussy. Each dribble was a testament to his power, his ability to satisfy her despite his size. It was a visual representation of his triumph, a silent declaration that he was more than enough.

But as he worked, Spencer couldn't help but feel a thrill of something darker, something that called to the depths of his kink. The need to claim her, to mark her as his own, grew stronger with every stroke of the cloth. And so, with a decision made in a split second, he set the washcloth aside. His fingers, still slick from the warm water, slid over her folds, collecting his own cum before pushing it back inside her.

The sight of his fingers disappearing into her, the way her pussy took him in, was more erotic than he could have ever imagined. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering closed as he played with his own seed. The feeling of her tightness, the way she gripped his fingers, was intoxicating.

Spencer's mind raced with all the things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he could make her feel good. His fingers moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, pushing in and out, the warmth of her body enveloping him. He could feel her growing wetter, her walls quivering around him. It was as if she was begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Y/N's moans grew louder, her hips rising to meet his hand. She wrapped her arms around her head, her legs spread wide in invitation. "Yes," she whispered, the word a soft hiss in the stillness of the room. "Just like that."

Her encouragement spurred Spencer on, his movements growing bolder. He watched as her body responded to his touch, the way her breasts bounced with each of her breaths, the way her pussy grew slicker and more swollen. He slid a second finger inside her, feeling the tightness of her channel clench around him.

"Yes," she moaned, her voice a siren's call that urged him to go deeper, to push her further. He curled his fingers, searching for that spot that would make her scream. When he found it, she arched off the bed, her nails digging into the sheets. "Oh god, yes, right there."

Her words were music to his ears, a symphony of desire that made his cock twitch with renewed interest. He added a third finger, stretching her tight pussy around him, feeling her clench and pulse.

With his other hand, Spencer reached up to her clit, his thumb brushing against the sensitive nub. She gasped, her hips bucking in response. He felt a thrill of power, knowing that he could reduce her to this state of need with just his touch.

He began to rub her clit in gentle circles, his touch feather-light, teasing her as he felt her body tense with anticipation. Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes snapping open to meet his.

"Fuck, Reid," she groaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. "You're so… good at this."

Her words were a sweet agony, a delicious torment that made Spencer's cock twitch back to life. He leaned over her, his eyes dark with desire as he whispered, "You like that?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed with lust. "Keep going," she breathed, her voice a sultry command. Spencer didn't need any more encouragement. He began to grind his cock against the bed, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He watched her face, the way her cheeks flushed with desire.

Without a second thought, he leaned in and took her clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub. Her body jerked at the sudden contact, a gasp escaping her lips. He could feel the power of his own pleasure building, but he was determined to make her come again. He knew it was a bold move, but something about the way she looked at him, the way she'd praised his tiny cock, made him feel invincible.

Spencer's fingers moved in a blur, pumping in and out of her pussy as he targeted her g-spot with the precision of a maestro. He watched as her face contorted with pleasure, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. He could feel her getting closer, her walls tightening around his digits, her hips moving in sync with his hand.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, a keening sound escaping her throat. Her body was a canvas of passion, her muscles tensing and releasing in time with his movements. He knew he had found the perfect rhythm, the sweet spot that would send her over the edge.

Her orgasm hit her hard, like a bolt of lightning tearing through her body. Her pussy pulsed around his fingers, her thighs quivering as she bucked against him. Spencer felt the power of her release, the tremors that rippled through her core as she came apart in his hands.

Y/N took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. Spencer was still kneeling beside the bed, his cock standing at attention as he watched her. He was grinding it against the bed, the sheets bunching beneath him. She couldn't help but feel a thrill of dominance, watching him seek his own release.

With a wicked smile, she reached a hand out to his chin, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You look like you could use some help with that little problem of yours," she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. Spencer's eyes snapped to hers, his breath hitching. The way she said it, like his size was something to be handled, only made him want her more.

Y/N slid off the bed, her body a study in grace as she moved. She grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet, her strength surprising him. "Lie down," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Spencer's cock bobbed with every step as he obeyed, his nerves a mix of excitement and anticipation.

He lay back, the coolness of the sheets soothing to the heat of his body. Y/N took a moment to appreciate the view, his glasses slightly askew on his face, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths. She felt a sense of power, a thrill that coursed through her veins.

With a grace that belied the intensity of her desire, she climbed up his body, her legs straddling his thighs. The warmth of her skin against his was electric, setting his nerves alight. His cock was already hard again, standing tall despite its size, begging for her attention.

As she reached his pelvis, she hovered there, her breath hot against his length. Spencer's chest heaved, his heart racing in anticipation. He watched as she leaned in, her eyes locked on his, and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. He felt the softness of her lips, the wetness of her tongue as she began to suck, the sensation sending shockwaves through his body.

Y/N's nails lightly scraped down his torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake as she approached his hip bones. Spencer's eyes widened as she wrapped her fingers around them, her grip firm but not painful. It was a strange sensation, the feeling of being both cherished and dominated at the same time. Her nails dug in, pinning him to the bed as if to remind him that she was in control, that she could do with him as she pleased.

Her tongue traced the length of his shaft, the wetness of her mouth leaving a trail of heat that made him shiver. She took him in deeper, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked. Spencer felt the pressure build, the sensation of her tongue swirling around the head of his cock making his toes curl. He was so close, his body poised on the edge of release.

Y/N's eyes never left his as she licked and sucked with a hunger that was almost feral. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and amusement at his response. Spencer could feel the tension coiling in his balls, the pressure threatening to overwhelm him. He moaned, his hips bucking upwards, trying to get more of her mouth on him.

Her grip on his hips tightened, holding him in place as she began to play with his balls. She rolled them gently in her palm, her nails scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain that had him writhing beneath her. She could feel the heat building in him, the way his body responded to her touch. It was like holding a live wire in her hand, the power of his desire pulsing through her.

Y/N took her time, exploring every inch of his small package. Her tongue flicked out, licking and teasing his balls with a gentle touch that had Spencer's eyes rolling back in his head. She knew just how to manipulate him, how to coax every drop of pleasure from his body. His hips bucked, his cock straining towards her mouth as she worked her magic. The sounds of his moans filled the room, a symphony of desire that only spurred her on.

And then, she did it. She took all of him in her mouth, closing around his cock as she hummed a low, throaty sound. The vibrations hit him like a bolt of lightning, his body tensing as he felt the pressure build. Spencer had never felt anything so intense, so all-consuming. It was as if she had tapped into a part of him that he didn't even know existed.

With a final, desperate thrust, he came hard, filling her mouth with his cum. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and relief that had him crying out her name. He watched as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his, the hunger in them unmistakable. It was a moment of complete surrender, his body wrung out and vulnerable beneath her.

As the last tremors of his orgasm faded, Spencer's body went boneless, his muscles releasing their tension. He lay there, panting, his cock still pulsing as Y/N licked her lips, a smug smile playing on her face. The sight of her, so in control, so powerful, was almost too much.

Y/N crawled up his body, her movements sinuous and cat-like. She took him into her arms, holding him close as if he were something precious. Spencer felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling of belonging that was new and exhilarating. He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine as she settled against him.

For a moment, he allowed himself to just be, to revel in the aftermath of their encounter. But the question lingered in the back of his mind: what did this mean for them? Was it a one-time thing, a fleeting moment of passion? Or was there something more, a connection that could grow and evolve over time?

Y/N could see his mind racing, the cogs turning behind those intelligent eyes. She propped herself up on her elbow, her body still flushed with the afterglow of her climax. "What's on your mind, Spencer?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I just… I don't know what to think. This was… unexpected." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "But I don't want it to be a mistake."

Y/N leaned in, her breath hot against his neck. "It's not a mistake, Spencer," she assured him, her voice a gentle whisper. "This is just the beginning."

Spencer felt a weight lift from his chest at her words. He tightened his hold on her, his heart racing with hope. "But what happens now?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Y/N kissed him softly, her lips a gentle promise. "Now, we explore," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "We find out just how good we can be together."

Spencer felt a thrill of excitement at her words. Being able to call her his, to claim her as his own, was a heady thought. It was something he had never dared to hope for, not with his insecurities. But now, as he held her in his arms, the possibility felt tantalizingly close.

[dexthtoyounglings]

Bullet Shells in My Brain

Anakin Skywalker x Reader Fluff/Angst

Summary: This war has taken it's toll on your mind and body, though it's almost like nobody has noticed. And you assumed that as a good thing. But Anakin noticed, Anakin loved you too much to not notice.

Warnings: Severe mental illness, depression, mentioning of war and death, do not read if any of these warnings make you uncomfortable

Requested!

•--•

The war. You blamed everything on the war now. Because as much as you shouldn't, it was the war. It was the war that ruined your life. It was the war that tore the galaxy apart with pure white gloves. Pure white gloves that had everyone else do it's bidding for them. Everyday started to feel pointless.

As a Jedi, you knew that your well-being was supposed to hold up. You were supposed to be better than this. You were supposed to be more stable than you are now. You weren't supposed to feel so numb.

We weren't getting to the core of the problem. If there was anything you knew, it was that we were so far from the solution. We were so lost. It felt like everyday, we almost got farther and farther from the solution to this war. You can't even remember why it had started. Can't remember the events that led for it to be so harsh.

But you knew someone that did. And when you told him those same words that echoed through your mind, he didn't see that chew marks in your mind, he didn't see how badly this war was eating at you. He offered up explanations to how it started. But you didn't wanna know anymore. Cause you knew it would make you throw up.

Anakin was everything to you. He was your best friend, the person you had clung to as a padawan. He was someone you admired for his unchallenged talent. You might've said that you both were something more, but you had never spoken about it, knowing the code and the rules you both had to abide to. But you could feel it - the spark people always spoke about when speaking of love.

You couldn't feel anything at all if it wasn't with him though. You went back to your dorm, to your room with blank walls and shelves with few trinkets that were of beauty to you. Or from Ani. And you laid in your bed and stared at your ceiling.

You used to lay down after missions or a long day and cry. When the war started, you used to cry. Cry till the muscles in your core felt like they were being separated, pulled apart like strings and crushed. You would cry until your face hurt and your eyes couldn't squeeze out tears. Till the only way you knew you were crying was by the choked out wails leaving your throat. And then like a wave, everything would crash. That last tear would slip down your cheek and curve under your chin. And your eyes would stay open, eyelashes soaking and eyebags growing fast. Your face would go still, as if you had died. Maybe you had in a way.

Like the last night you cried. You died that day. Some part of you was rotting from the inside out. You were a zombie walking, one with armor and a weapon. Like a bad fruit, you spoiled the others and killed their cells. It seemed like everyone died around you. It seemed like you weren't the only zombie, too.

But now, as you punched in a 4-digit code on the panel to the right side of your door, it opened to reveal the same room that bled you dry.

Every night this room killed you more.

You unhooked your lightsaber from your belt, placing it down on a console table that was next to the door. The plant centered on it gave you peace, a living thing that you were able to make thrive.

You couldn't have shed your armor faster, boots kicked to the floor, one laying perpendicular to the hard wood and the other parallel. The least you could do was hang your clothes the correct way, smoothing them out and slipping into baggy pants and a comfortable sweater.

Your eyes traveled to a mat sitting in the corner of your room, waiting for you, but no calling. You felt no draw to meditation anymore. Something you used to enjoy now felt like a mere memory. Ani liked forcing you to meditate, but he wouldn't allow you into your room when he prompted you to.

He knew how the cream walls eroded you.

You hesitated, feeling your heart clawing at itself and crying. It weeped for some magical fix to the way you felt. But there was no fixing this, nothing that could make you smile again, and nothing that could make you form bonds with the poor younglings that were only walking into death by being at the temple.

You sat down on your bed, the mattress dipping at your weight.

Civilians were been bombed during your last mission. The separatists killed children. You couldn't save them.

You stared at the crease of your wall, the wash of emotions forcing your eye bags heavier. They were getting too much to carry. You were drowning, them dragging you down to the bottom of the disorienting ocean.

A knock on your door made you flinch. It had been firm, enough to scare you out of your skin, standing up in a panic response. Your hands grasped your arms in a way to try to ground yourself before walking towards the door.

You didn't have to open it, really. But in your mind, you felt that this was a must moment.

You stood in front of it and pressed the grey button to open it with little hesitation. The mechanical noise made you look up at your visitor, and the sight of him made a tsunami of emotions flood you.

"Ani," you croaked, voice barely sturdy.

You cleared your throat, seeing the concern on his face. Anakin cared a lot, for you and for the people that surrounded him closely. But you didn't often see his eyebrows furrow in the way they did, looking at you like you were lost.

Maybe you were lost, void of anything that was true.

Anakin invited himself in, stepping towards you so you would, in turn, step back. The door closed behind him and it left you in a breathless silence. You felt a pang in your chest, Anakin looking around your room the same way you had when you entered earlier that night.

Anakin spoke your name softly, drawing your eyes to his own. They coated over with sadness. Maybe he was starting to hate the color cream as well.

"What's happening to you?" he asked, lips not even closing fully as he felt the mood in the room darken to a hazy gloom.

You shook your head, fingertips digging into your sweater sleeves, "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what mean," Anakin retorted. His voiced lacked the sternness it should've had, given that sentence. Instead, it was steady, "This isn't the first time I've felt this. I... Your mind has changed so much. This room used to be so bright, what's wrong?"

You felt yourself break. Out of the numbing feeling you felt in your bones, came a sudden sadness, one you would much rather have than no feeling at all.

Your arms went rigid where they hugged each other but your legs felt weak. Your eyes heated and glistened over with feeling and your chin pushed at your bottom lip. Your head already started to ache from the way the muscles in your face shifted so drastically.

Anakin knew when he was needed. And he knew that all you could've asked for in this vulnerable moment was him. So, Anakin did what he did best in these moments and he grabbed onto you by your arms and held you in his own. His biceps pressed against the sides of your arms while his elbows bent to hug you, hands placed flat on your back. One hand pressed itself against the back of your head, fingers spread through your hair and held you to his chest, cheek ironed to him. His chin rested over your head, allowing you to fit into the slots of his body where you belonged.

When you wrapped your arms around his waist instead of clawing at the cloth covering you, it felt like you were made to cry in his arms in some weird, corrupt thought. You were perfect against him, and the way your tears stained his Jedi attire, you felt a connection you had never felt, one that woke you up from your depression.

You seemed to press tighter into him, grounding yourself to the Coruscant planet through the means of his torso. Your whole body shook with sobs and your cheeks were stained with the time having passed from grappling onto him. He was so steady for you, and you admired him as being your rock. You could never thank him, you could never.

"Please don't leave me," you babbled, words mindlessly leaving you as you sharply inhaled a lung-full of air, your chest letting out a broken wail.

Anakin smoothed out your hair, petting it down to your back as he listened to the words slip from your mouth. In a heart-broken response, he said your name, "I'm not leaving you. I'm staying right here, I promise. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

He placed his hand on the hair over your neck and held you steady to him. You pressed your nose into his clothes, taking in the distinct smell he had and the feeling of his warmth against your face.

"Just.. Just don't leave... I can't..." you hiccuped, "I can't do this without you."

The aura of the room finally made sense. The corners that seemed to dark for the way you used to smile. The objects that would constantly shift due to you picking them up to reminisce, now were always in the same place and tended to collect dust. Your meditation mat that always seemed cold made sense. Even the paint set you kept, gifted from Ani, sat dormant - the exact activity you called out to when you were upset.

It all made sense now, now that you were clinging to Anakin Skywalker like he was the only thing keeping your joints from splitting and your body from cracking in two.

Anakin knew the pressure that was holding you down; it wasn't something they had taught you as a naïve padawan. They never taught you about the way something like a war would destroy you wholly.

"I need you," you cried, sobs matching the wracking of your body, a sort of cry that only came from pure hurt, "I can't do this alone... you're all I have."

Anakin leaned his head down, feeling his own head become fuzzy from the words that you spoke into his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of your head in a kiss that made your body warm and tired, but the crying seemed endless. He broke you out of your trance, guiding your body to your bed before he sat down. Your arms were tore from him, and you almost felt like a helpless child when you looked at him. But Anakin scooted up to the pillows near the headboard, holding your arms to drag you onto the bed softly.

Your knees hit the bed, only seconds before your body did. You latched onto him again, hugging around his torso. You did never want him to leave, you didn't want to come to, to realize you couldn't hold onto him forever. He couldn't always be your anchor.

But he would try like maker to be that for you. He held you gently, one hand on your head, pressing so meaningfully against your face. Your leg hooked his waist, pressing your body to his side as he cuddled you a sweetheart would his lover.

But it stopped your sobbing, and it made you feel tender love. Tender love that you returned.

"I'm right here," he spoke in a mere whisper, words travelling through the air and echoing like a firefly light.

You knew he was telling the truth. Yes, of course you should know he was here, but the words meant more. The words meant he would be here, that as much as he could be away on a different planet or stuck in a meeting he couldn't leave, he was here for you.

His hand rubbed at your cheeks, letting your tears soak into the skin of his thumb. You stared into his distracted eyes, finding yourself captivated by him.

"Don't tell Obi-Wan," you mumbled.

Anakin finally connected his eyes with your own, "Why would I tell him?"

"So you can get help for me. I don't... I don't want him to worry about me."

The dirty blonde breathed smoothly, contrasting your own quick, quivering breaths. His mind seemed to wander, latching onto a few thoughts before responding, "What if you need it? I don't like seeing you this way, I hate watching you cry."

"Just..." you reasoned without thought, "Ani, will you stay with me?"

Anakin let his lips crack into a pacific smile, rubbing over your soft cheek with his lightsaber-roughed thumb.

"I'll stay with you," your name slipped from his mouth with ease, allowing your mind to relax and fall in the solace his presence gave you.

I'll stay with you.

•--•

[frenchkisstheabyss]

7 Psychopaths: Lee Know

x Summary: You are X, a seasoned assassin, and your boss has just assigned you an unusual task. You have two weeks to gather six men for a top-secret mission that requires their unique brand of psychopathy. The trick is, you've got romantic history with all of them.

A detail that might make this a walk in the park or the fight of your life. Time to find out...

x Pairing: assassin!lee know x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

x Genre: angst/crime au/smut

x Word Count: 1.8k-ish

x Warnings: blood, violence, fighting, knives, guns, disposable mob goon deaths, unprotected sex, fingering, mirror sex, hair pulling, lino is a lil obsessed with you, the strongest of language

x A/N: This is #2 in a series of 6 stories featuring two members from TXT, two from ATEEZ, and two from Stray Kids. They all follow the same theme and can be read chronologically or you can jump around. I support the chaos.

Previous Psychopath: Yeonjun | Next Psychopath: Wooyoung

Downstairs in the lobby of the Hotel Artemis the Innkeeper sits behind the check-in desk face down in a pool of his own blood. If someone were to lift his head up, the mangled flesh swimming around might resemble crushed raspberries. Their daily serving of fruit courtesy of you. But no one will lift his head up. They’ll all mind their business because that’s what you do here. You step around his body and grab your fucking key before you end up just like him or worse. He’ll wake up eventually. Probably.

Stepping into the surprisingly well-kept elevator, you press the button for the top floor, adjusting the garter belt beneath your dress as the doors close on the empty lobby. This is no time to admire architecture but you can’t help yourself. The Romanesque style interior is breathtaking, much nicer than the deathtraps you’ve found yourself in trying to track down the Black Cat. Some might call it lucky that Minho’s petty streak led him to the penthouse suite of the Artemis, right down the street from where your hotel is.

Watching the numbers light up one after the other as the elevator ascends, you’re shocked when it comes to a stop at the 6th floor, 14 floors short of your destination. You step back, wedging yourself in a corner, and fish your headphones out of your purse. Your music’s on before the bell dings, doors sliding open to let half a dozen goons file in. Italian mob. Dressed in all black. Cocky. Faces still healing from their last brawl. Half of them smile at you, nodding, politely admiring the way your dress hugs your curves, gawking at your flawlessly applied makeup.

You smile back and they turn away, eliminating you as a threat. Stealthy glances around the elevator reveal the guns tucked into their waistbands. The Big One, twice your size in every way, has a set of brass knuckles on his callused hands. Gold plated. Fancy. “Excuse me, gentlemen” you sing, maneuvering through them with the grace of a proper lady. They part the sea for you, unknowingly clearing a path to the control panel. “Getting off already, beautiful?” “Mmm'' you sigh, a manicured nail hovering near the bright red EMERGENCY STOP button, “Not yet.” Your fist slams down on the button, bringing 6,000 pounds of metal to a screeching halt. 

Minho studies the 16th-century Turkish vase on display in the lavish, and utterly destroyed, penthouse of the Golden Child, a pretty boy whose mob boss daddy provides him with enough money to blow on all the cocaine, strippers, and obnoxiously expensive art he can get his hands on. “Don’t you touch it!” the Golden Child screams, spitting loose teeth and blood onto his bear skin rug. Minho pops open the glass display case that houses the vase and an assortment of other highly fragile artifacts. “Don’t touch what?” he asks, winding up the scarlet splattered golf club he used to lay ruin to the apartment and its inhabitant, “This?”

“I said no!” Minho chews at the inside of his lip, pretending to be unsure of his next move when he knows exactly what he’s about to do. The head of the club shatters the priceless vase into a thousand pieces, shards of ceramics and glass flying through the air as he dishes out swing after spiteful swing to those poor, innocent historical treasures. The Golden Child grabs onto the arm of his white leather couch, attempting to push himself up but broken ribs send him tumbling back down. “You’re out of your fucking mind!” he curses, “All because I spilled a drink on you? I said, ‘My bad!”

Winded, Minho tosses the golf club across the room, grinning to himself as he notices a leaking cut on his hand. “My bad?” he laughs, “My bad?” It disgusts him, the smugness of people who think they can run around doing anything they want to anyone they want. Poor manners, that is. His parents should’ve taught him better but that’s what Minho’s here for. Charging across the room, he grabs the Golden child by the collar of his soft cotton robe and hammers his head onto the floor. “My bad is not ‘Sorry!’”

Minho bashes his fist into the man’s jaw, the brute force of the blow knocking another molar loose, “Say sorry!” “Eat shit.” “What?” Minho snaps, positive his ears are deceiving him. The Golden Child smiles up at him, arrogant and entitled even in his battered state, “Eat shit. My dad keeps tabs on me 24/7. He’s probably sending some guys up here right now and when they get here? You're dead.” Grabbing the belt barely hanging onto the man’s robe, Minho twists it around his neck, depriving him of air.

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side then, huh?” Minho doesn’t blink, not even once, as the color drains from the Golden Child’s eyes, bone splintering, his windpipe crumbling just as easily as his precious vases. Saying sorry really couldn’t have been that hard. 

“There’s nowhere to run, little one” taunts the Big One, trying and failing not to trip over the corpses of his friends. Your chest hurts like hell. The others were easy, so shit with their aim that only one bullet in 20 clips had even managed to skim your thigh. But this one? He won’t go down. Squared up against him, the knife from your torn garter clenched in your fist, you know you can’t let him hit you again. Another blow to the chest and you’re done for. “Who’s running, big boy? Let’s get it.” Tapping the EMERGENCY STOP button again, the elevator whirls back into action.

The Big One charges at you, swinging wildly. You duck, rolling through the bodies and slicing open the back of his left leg. The bell dings on every floor like the start of a boxing match. The Big One punches one of the walls, denting the metal. So much for pristine architecture. As he reels from the hit, you jump on his back, jabbing the knife into his chest from behind. The bell dings for a final time on the 20th floor. Biting down on your arm, he flips you over his shoulder, slamming you down onto the floor, knocking the air out of you.

The doors creak open as he raises his foot to stomp a steel toe boot down on your chest. Bang! A bullet barrels through his skull. The titan stumbles, his brain quite literally scrambled. Bang! Bang! Two more shots and he’s slumped on the ground with his friends where he belongs. Reunited at last. “Who’s your new boyfriend?” Minho teases from the hallway, tossing the gun to the ground. “You’re welcome!” you groan, flipping him off. He hops onto the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. “Thank you,” he says, sweetly, grateful for your help and your presence.

Taking you into his arms, he props you up in the corner, checking you for injuries. “What is this?” You flinch when he brushes a tender spot on your head, “You tell me. You’re the one with the mob after you.” “No, I mean, what are you doing here?” “Oh, uh, boss sent me to get you” you stutter, the entire reason for your arrival in Rome having shifted to the back of your mind until now.

“We need you.”

“Where?”

“Berlin.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Okay, if…”

You whine when he caresses your thigh, checking the severity of the bullet wound. “If what?” “If you let me take care of you” he winks. “Take care of me? Why’d you say it like that?” Minho rips a long strip of material from the shirt of a nameless corpse and secures it around your thigh to stop the bleeding. He kisses your thigh, suckling softly at the tender flesh to distract you from the pain. Ding! First floor. The doors open to the lobby and he takes you by the hand, “Let me show you.” 

Taking care of you. When you say that in this line of business, it’s never a good thing but Minho had no intentions of cutting your life short. The only thing on his mind was carrying you back to your hotel, running you a nice bath, and dressing your wounds. “All better?” he asks, his breath tickling your neck as he plays with your clit. This was a part of the plan too, getting you in his lap, his naked body reunited with yours after months apart. From this position on the edge of the bed, you can see your reflection clearly. Your plush breast bounces in one of his hands while the fingers of the other spread your lips wide enough to fully expose your clit.

With your legs dangling across his, follow your cream as it trickles down the base of his cock. There’s nothing fast or rough about the way he lifts his hips to fill you. The slight curve of his cock makes you stutter each time he disappears into your pulsing warmth. “All---ah---b-b-better.” “B-b-better?” he mocks, his fingers working faster against your clit. You reach back to cup his face, scratching him the slightest bit as punishment for being a smartass. The pain only makes him want you more. His cock is as hard and smooth as polished marble, leaking precum into your needy pussy.

Minho watches you in the mirror, admiring your reflection, entranced by how the beauty of your face and the plumpness of your figure could make him put a bullet through the skull of a man who even dared to look at you wrong. “Take over for me” he whispers, guiding your hand between your legs, his fingers moving on top of yours to splash in the audible wetness of your pussy. You pick up a rhythm together, one that has your breath growing ragged and your stomach in a frenzy. With his hand now free, he brushes your hair out of your face, tilting your head to the side to kiss you.

His tongue ventures as far down your throat as it can go, devouring your moans. Bouncing you in his lap at a quicker pace, still careful not to hurt you, he caresses your body, greedy to claim you as his like you were meant to be from the start. The argument that broke you up. That stupid fucking argument. He doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore and he doesn’t care. Because you’re in his lap, your back arching against his chest, sloppily playing with your own aching bud, biting on his lip while you whimper his name. Your pulse races, your hand reaching back to grip his hair for stability.

“Mmhmm, pull my fucking hair and cum for me” he urges, “Cum for me angel.” Your tongue lashes at his, his words making you burst. “Minho! Aah, baby!” you cry, pulling his hair harder as your orgasm deepens. Minho rests his head on your shoulder. Watching you cum is like performance art. “I don’t care about anyone else. Just promise you’ll never leave me again.” Your glossy eyes meet his in the mirror, “I promise.” “You mean it?” “I mean it.”

And you do mean it. You have to. Because, with the hell that awaits you in Germany, sweet reunions like this might end up being your last.

[bengiyo]

Twilight Out of Focus Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we got the traumatic backstory for Hisashi as he broke up with his old homeroom teacher. While tending to Hisashi's wound, Mao admitted that he likes him, and the two almost got intimate. Mao ran away, confusing Hisashi, and causing him to mess up on set. Mao has assured Hisashi that they'll talk after they finish shooting the film. I'm obsessed with the complex layers of sexuality in this show.

Interesting. Now Hisashi is the one dialed in and Mao is the one who is distracted.

I continue to love the blending of manga panel styles in this show.

Absolutely thrilled that they're highlighting how awkward and uncomfortable it is to kiss on screen, and how the real kiss they had last week feels different.

Damn. Film sets are like construction sites. There are trip hazards everywhere. Not a place to be losing your focus because you got jealous.

Oh fuck yeah! We're bringing back the truth telling on camera. I love that it worked instantly.

The kisses in this show feel so natural and earned.

I am losing it over them narrowing the screen during the sex.

Losing it over this show owning that there's a learning curve to some aspects of gay sex.

Finally, we have a bottom describing how they felt.

AFTERCARE! PILLOW TALK!

What is this sad as fuck BL they're making?

A second round of just handies? THIS IS A GAYS ONLY EVENT. GO HOME!!

I really hope this film doesn't get leaked or stolen. I will be furious.

This show is actually so romantic about filmmaking and I'm enamored.

Holy shit that final scene was so good.

I keep saying this, but the best shows this year are some of the best we've ever had. I absolutely love that the episode about filming the first kiss of the BL characters led to the first sex and full confession of the real guys in our show (who are also fictional, obviously), and that they do used in the physical and emotional realities of gay sex. We had an open admission that part of it might create discomfort, we had Mao learning to enjoy being with another man, and we had pillow talk and after care. I love that we went into that scene with Hisashi asking if it was okay when he asked Mao to tell the truth to the camera, and before they had sex both times. I love as well that Mao filmed them together in the morning. He says he can't lie to a camera, so it affirms even more the truth of his feelings. I love that the discovery happening between them is making them see their own lives differently, and improving their work. Finally, I also love that Mao knows this isn't the end of their story. Their lives aren't static. They had sex and confessed that they like each other a lot, and they are going to face the changes that come. This show is so, so special.

[visualkingsg]

Save Big on LED Wall Displays in Singapore – Here’s Where to Shop!

When it comes to making a significant visual impact, LED walls are a game-changer for any business or event in Singapore. But with so many options out there, finding the best deal on an LED wall Singapore can be a challenge. So, how can you save big and still get top-quality products? I've done the research and gathered some tips to help you shop smart.

Why LED Walls Are the Best Investment for Your Business or Event

Whether you're planning a corporate event, setting up a new retail space, or upgrading your office, investing in an LED wall in Singapore can elevate your space like nothing else. Unlike traditional displays, LED walls offer:

Brilliant, High-Resolution Visuals: Perfect for advertising, branding, or entertainment.

Customizable Sizes and Shapes: Including curved LED panels that add a modern, sleek touch.

Durability and Energy Efficiency: A long-lasting investment that saves money over time.

What to Consider Before Making Your Purchase

Before you jump into the purchase, there are a few factors to consider to ensure you’re getting the best value:

Space and Location: Where will the LED wall be installed? Indoor or outdoor, a clear idea of the location will help you choose the right type.

Purpose and Usage: Will you use it for advertising, live streaming, or presentations? Your purpose will dictate the size, resolution, and features needed.

Transparency and Flexibility: If you want to maintain visibility through the display, consider a transparent LED screen Singapore. It’s perfect for store windows or partitions without blocking the view.

Top Places to Buy Affordable LED Wall Displays in Singapore

Now, let’s dive into where you can actually save money on your LED wall purchase. Here are some top spots in Singapore where you can get quality products without breaking the bank:

1. Online Retailers Offering Competitive Prices

One of the easiest ways to find deals is by checking online retailers. Websites like Lazada and Shopee often have discounts on LED wall displays. Plus, you can compare prices, read reviews, and even find specific options like curved LED panels or transparent LED screens in Singapore.

2. Direct Suppliers for Bulk Purchases

If you’re buying in bulk, going directly to suppliers can save you a significant amount. Companies like Lightform and LEDtronics in Singapore offer wholesale prices on LED walls and even custom designs if you need something unique.

3. Specialized LED Wall Stores with Expert Advice

For those who prefer a more personalized shopping experience, visiting a specialized store might be the way to go. Shops like Display Asia and AV Media in Singapore not only sell LED walls but also provide expert advice, installation services, and after-sales support. They might even offer discounts if you purchase multiple items or book installation services.

4. Seasonal Sales and Promotions

Keep an eye out for seasonal sales, especially during Singapore's major shopping events like the Great Singapore Sale or during festive periods. Many retailers offer discounts on LED walls, including those sleek curved LED panels you’ve been eyeing.

How to Maximize Your Savings and Still Get Quality

Finding a good deal is great, but it’s important to ensure that you’re not sacrificing quality for price. Here’s how I make sure to get the best of both worlds:

Check for Warranties and After-Sales Support: A good warranty is essential. It not only protects your investment but also ensures that you’re buying a product of lasting quality.

Compare Different Options and Get Quotes: Don’t settle on the first option you find. Get quotes from different suppliers and compare their offerings. You might find a better deal on a transparent LED screen in Singapore by shopping around.

Negotiate: Don’t be afraid to ask for discounts or additional perks like free installation or extended warranties. It’s a common practice, and you’d be surprised how much you can save just by asking.

By following these tips and knowing where to shop, you can get an incredible deal on an digital display panel Singapore that meets all your needs. Whether you’re looking for a transparent LED screen or curved LED panels, there’s something out there that’s perfect for you – without blowing your budget.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 47: Plans

You and the Mandalorian work with your allies to save your son. A continuation of Beskar Doll ch. 1-46 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 3.8k

You were relieved when Sosha dismissed Pell and a handful of assistants who were hovering just outside the door. She closed you, Donné and Din into the salon and hugged you again, tightly. 

“I’ve missed you,” she said quietly. “I never should have sent you away…” 

“It was the smart move,” you said, holding onto her, the one person left who knew you before you became what you were now. 

“It wasn’t the right thing to do,” she pulled back from you and took your hands before looking at Donné. “Have the others here by morning, we leave first thing. Arrange for the fastest cruiser we have to be ready.” 

Donné bowed her head and left the room, too. 

“Well, since this is just between friends,” Sosha smiled a little toward Din. “Including some new ones, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and start finding your boy.” 

She led the way down a grand hall - all gleaming stone and soaring ceilings - to her chambers. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t allow a man back here but, given that he’s your husband, I think we can make an exception,” she led the way to her dressing room and paused, getting you a towel and a robe. It was disconcerting, having Sosha get things for you, look after you. Not that she never had, of course, but the nature of your relationship the last time you’d seen her had been decidedly reversed. She hardly treated you like a servant but you regularly helped her dress in the elaborate robes of the queen - including making sure there enough protective fabrics and plates to keep anyone from taking her out too easily. 

“It looks like we’re still the same size,” she said absently, going to her massive closet. “But I’m guessing you don’t wear the kinds of things we used to much anymore…” 

“Can’t say I’ve had much of a reason to,” you laughed a little as you toweled off your damp hair and started taking off your wet clothes. “I’ve been spending more time in the… less reputable parts of the galaxy lately. And we’re bounty hunters…” 

“You’re a bounty hunter?” She raised her eyebrows. You nodded. She laughed once. “Can’t say I expected that!” 

You wrapped yourself in a robe and she pulled a gown out of the closet, one that you knew was simple by the standards of a former queen but was more elaborate than anything you’d worn in years. 

“Once you’re dry, so you have something appropriate for dinner,” she said. “Of course, we have more… practical options for when we leave.” 

“You mean the things we used to wear to sneak around on Imp bases?” You asked, smiling a little. She smiled a little back. 

“So he knows about all the trouble we used to get into?” She asked, looking at Din again. He just looked at you. 

“He does,” you said. “We ran into Teav a few years back…” 

She nodded slowly, going to something that looked like a vanity. But she pushed a button on the side and it opened to reveal screens and panels. She keyed in a code before stepping aside. 

“This has all the information the rebellion had known Imperial bases,” she said. “It’s a lot of data but if you have an idea of how to narrow it down?” 

You sat at the vanity, Din standing at your shoulder. He put one of his hands in the middle of your back, his fingers splayed wide, like touching you was making him feel better. 

“We can start with research facilities,” you said, looking up at him. “Those are going to be more limited…” 

“Anything tied to genetics,” he leaned over, his body curving over your own. “Was there anything you saw? Either when you were on his ship or through Grogu?” 

“Not that I remember,” you sighed, adjusting the search parameters and drumming your fingers impatiently against the surface of the vanity. “Do you know what they wanted him for? Besides the obvious?” 

“The obvious?” Sosha asked. You felt Din stiffen at your side and you put a hand on his. 

“Grogu is… special,” you said. “Remember when my mother told us stories about the Jedi she knew when she was young?” 

“Of course,” she smiled. “Handsome sorcerer warriors? Like I’d forget that.” 

You smiled a little. Sosha had hung on your mother’s every word when she talked about her time with Amidala. Like she’d known, even when you were both just five or six, that she’d one day be queen, too. 

“Grogu is like them,” you said. “He has powers and the Empire wants him. We’re not sure why, outside of research…” 

“Who has him?” She asked, coming to sit beside you on the small bench. You moved to the end of the bench, pressing yourself against Din. 

“Gideon,” you said. “He’s also particularly interested in old Rebellion information, he wants to know how we moved information, how we embedded spies into Imperial systems…” 

“He’s got to be planning something big, then,” Sosha said absently, shifting to information gathered on specific Imperial officers. She pulled up the information on Gideon and a chill ran down your spine when you saw his face. “Looks like he had an interest in cloning…” 

She switched back over to the information on bases. 

“Just two cloning facilities,” you leaned in closer to the screen. 

“That narrows it down,” Sosha frowned. “Any way you can tell which…” 

“It’s Phindar,” you said, looking up at Din. “It has to be Phindar. I can feel it, he’s there.” 

“How…” Sosha began but you felt Din’s fingers on your back tighten against you. 

“He’s taunting us,” he said. “It’s in Mandalorian space. He took him to Mandalorian space. Because he knows I don’t have other Mandalorians to call on for help.” 

“Made another Imperial enemy?” Sosha asked, brows raised. 

“Something like that,” you ground your teeth. 

“Good,” she said. “All the more satisfying when we destroy him.” 

“He’s ours,” you said, looking at the image of Gideon on the screen. You let the heat of hate soak you. You wanted him, you wanted his blood, you wanted his pain. He took what was yours, the most precious thing. You wanted to make him pay. “No one kills him but us.” 

“He’s yours,” Sosha said, putting a hand on your arm. “All yours.” 

She turned her attention to the Mandalorian. 

“I’m afraid that during chaos of your arrival, I didn’t catch your name,” she said, looking him over. 

You went to give an excuse but he spoke before you had a chance. 

“Din,” he said. You looked up at him, surprised. “Djarin.” 

“Would you like us to find something for you to wear to dinner, Din?” She asked. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what Mandalorian traditions are, we didn’t have any dealings with your people during my reign so it’s a bit of a blind spot…” 

You half smiled at that and wondered if you’d have gotten over Din’s armor sooner if you’d known better. 

“I don’t remove my helmet in the presence of anyone but my wife,” he said. “But I appreciate your offer.” 

“Really?” Her brows went up. “In that case, I will have something sent to your room after, assuming you’d like to accompany your wife to dinner?” 

“I would.” 

“Good,” she smiled. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to excuse us while we dress for dinner. I’m sure Captain Pell would love to discuss some finer points of the plan of attack. He always hates it when I sprint things on him…” 

“Please tell me you’re not still causing trouble!” You gaped at her. She shrugged. “Sosh! You can’t just…” 

“I can do whatever I want,” she smirked a little. “And I believe I’m no longer your concern.” 

You glared at her but she just looked proud of herself. You turned your attention back to Din. 

“I don’t have to…” you began but he cut you off, cupping your cheek and tilting your chin so his eyes could more easily meet his own. 

“Stay, Cyare,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.” 

You watched him go for a moment, a knot forming in your stomach at the distance. You knew you were both safe here, that nothing would happen to him here, but so much had happened within the past few days. The only secure place you had was with him. You’d lost so much, you couldn’t lose him, too. 

“You love him,” Sosha said. You spun to face her and she was smiling softly. 

“I do,” you smiled a little back, the most you could bring yourself to smile under the circumstances. “I really, really do.” 

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever find that again,” she said, getting up and changing the vanity back into a vanity with the press of a button. “I’ve been worried that you were alone but you’ve found someone who is more your match than you could have ever found here.” 

She picked up a brush and started running it through your hair. 

“Sosh…” 

“Oh hush,” she cut you off. “I did your hair now and then when I was queen, too. Let me do this, it’s been far too long.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of your oldest friend untangling your hair and starting to plait it. It was a comfort, the knot in your stomach easing. 

“So,” she said conspiratorially. “The helmet…” 

“Yes?” You asked brows raised, a small smile on your lips. 

“Did he really leave it on for EVERYTHING until you were married?” She asked. 

“Sosh!” You elbowed her lightly. 

“What!” She laughed, pinning a braid into place. “I met a Mandalorian, a few years ago. I think she takes a different approach to the creed, though, as her helmet came off rather quickly… she was plenty talented with her tongue, though…” 

“You met another Mandalorian?” You spun, eyes wide. “When? Where? Also, a talented tongue? How fast do you work now that you don’t have to meet the standards of royal decorum?” 

“Just fast enough,” she winked before putting her hands on your shoulders and turning you back around. “Now stay put or I’ll never finish. I can find all the information for you, but it was at least four years ago…” 

You deflated a bit at that. 

“Have you been in touch with her since?” You asked. “I know most of the Mandalorians Din knew were wiped out about a year ago…” 

“Oh no,” she frowned. “We haven’t kept in touch, it wasn’t exactly that kind of relationship. But I hope she’s OK…” 

“Me too,” you fidgeted with the sleeves on the robe before meeting Sosha’s eyes in the mirror. “How have you been? Are you happy?” 

“Now I am,” she nodded a little, focusing on a braid. “It was hard, after the war. You were gone, my reign ended not long after, Naboo was still in tatters when it did… I had a hands on role rebuilding which was a blessing, it kept me busy. Gave me purpose. But I’ve since become the Ambassador to the New Republic, which has been fulfilling. And I’m not married yet but… Well, there is someone.” 

“There is?”You smiled turning to look at her. 

She rolled her eyes and gripped your shoulders again, facing you to the front. 

“Stay put,” she said, stern but smiling. “But yes, there is. Maybe, once we find your son, you can meet him. You’d like him, I think. He’s a flyboy, just your speed.” 

You laughed a little. 

“You never answered the helmet question, by the way,” she said, sweeping some of your hair back. “Was it really on the whole time?” 

“I didn’t see his face until the day we got married,” you said, cheeks hot. “But… he took it off in the dark plenty before that.” 

“Good, because I’d have tried to talk you out of marrying him if you were going in that blind,” she teased, pinning the last chunk of hair into place. “Who knows what kind of bad decisions we’d make without each other.” 

You laughed once. 

“Who knows.” 

***

Din liked Pell. The man was smart, thorough, dedicated to Sosha’s safety almost as much as Din was dedicated to yours. 

“I’ll have 20 men with me,” he said, pulling up a schematic. ��This is what we know of the facility. With the firepower of the ship, we should be able to brute force our way in at this point, it should be away from any holding cells and ensure that your son isn’t in danger.” 

“That will put us in a funnel,” he frowned below the helmet. 

“Which is why you and I will be the first in,” he said. “We’ll be able to take out the first volley of troops and get Her Highness and the Ladies in quickly. They can disperse from there, searching the facility. I’ll leave five men to hold the entry point, we’ll send three with each Lady. I’ll stay with Her Highness, you will stay with your wife. We’ll keep them in one piece, find your son, kill Gideon and get out.” 

Din nodded. 

“Gideon is ours,” he said. “He’s too dangerous to leave alive and he’s taken too much from me. He’s ours.” 

Pell nodded once. 

“I don’t care what makes the man fall as long as he falls,” he said. 

“I appreciate…” Din started to say but the words died on his tongue when you came into the sitting room. 

He’d never seen you look quite like this, even when you’d gotten them into the party on Coruscant. Your hair was mostly up and back with some hanging in curls around your bared shoulders. He wanted to remove his helmet and trail his lips over those shoulders to your neck, your cheek, your lips.  The gown you borrowed from Sosha fit you like a second skin, highlighting every curve, your breasts full and soft and all but spilling over the structured top of the gown, the skirts flowing around your legs while hinting at your shape. You’d done your makeup, too, your lips lush and dark, lashes long. You were living art, something too beautiful for him to touch. But you smiled when you saw him. 

“Cyare,” he said, going for you. It was automatic, an instinct. The anxious ache in him eased when his hand went around the back of your neck and your hand held his wrist, your eyes finding his below the helmet. He felt some of the tension leave your body at the contact. 

“How’s planning?” You asked, your unoccupied hand finding his waist. 

“As far as we can get it for now,” he said. “We’ll need to go by the Crest before we leave. There’s something I want you to have before we leave.” 

You frowned a little but nodded once. 

“Then, as long as Captain Pell is OK with it,” you glanced around Din. “I’d like to borrow my husband.” 

“He’s all yours, My Lady,” Pell bowed his head a little when he finished addressing you and you smiled a little before taking Din’s hand and leading him toward the dining room. 

“The other handmaids will be here overnight,” you said, pressing yourself against Din’s side. “I feel so… foolish, getting dressed up and eating and doing anything else right now…” 

“We’ve done what we can for the moment,” he gave you a squeeze. “It’s your first visit home in years. We’re getting him back. That’s what matters.” 

You just nodded, your hand slipping around his bicep. 

“You look beautiful, Cyare,” he said, knowing it was an understatement. But he wasn’t sure how else to say it, especially now. How could he say that stars you loved so much paled in comparison to you? That, in all his travels through the galaxy, you were far and away the loveliest thing he’d ever seen? 

“Well I have to try to hold my own against all that beskar,” you gave him a small smile. “You’re always dressed to impress…” 

“Not like you,” he tugged you closer. “Never like you.” 

Dinner, Din was surprised to find, was a pleasant affair. The other handmaids were still on their way so it was just the two of you with Sosha and Donné. 

“Normally, this would have been a much happier evening,” Sosha said. “Reuniting with our sister this way is bittersweet. But, since I know we’d like to know what you’ve been up to and I’m sure you’re only able to think about your son, please, tell us about him.” 

You looked at Din and laced your fingers through his below the table. 

“Din saved Grogu from an Imperial bounty,” you said, looking at him, your hand tight in his own. “And he’s just the most precious little boy.” 

“He’s a troublemaker,” Din smiled a little below the helmet. “Obeying is not his strong suit.” 

“And he’s very good at letting you know exactly what he wants,” you smiled broader. “If you don’t get it for him, he’ll figure it out on his own and Maker help you if that happens…” 

It felt good to talk about him, to focus on him. It made it easy to forget, for a moment, just how afraid he was. How much he hated standing still, even though he knew that this was the best way to help him. 

A meal had been delivered to the room that you were led to after dinner and you closed and locked the doors. Din removed his helmet and caught your arm as you passed, bending and trailing his lips over your shoulder to your collarbone to your jaw. 

“Din,” you breathed. 

“Just needed to kiss you there while you looked like that,” he whispered against your ear, your cheek against his. You were so close. It was right that you were so close. Having you close was the only safe thing. 

You took down your hair and he watched you while he ate. He thought the food must be good but it was hard to taste anything, between the fear and stress and you. 

“Are we ready?” You asked, looking at him. “At this point, I don’t care if we are or we aren’t, we have to go get him, I can’t wait anymore…” 

“I know,” he said, glad that he could look at you without having to look through the mask right now. It would feel wrong, having that barrier between you when you were this distraught. “But we’re ready. Because of you, we’re ready.” 

You nodded, fisting the fabric of your dress in your tense hands. 

“Come here, Cyare,” he said, getting up and going to the end of the bed. “Let me help you take that off.” 

You just nodded before going to him, sweeping your hair over your shoulder and exposing your back to him. The gown laced up and he removed his gloves before he untied it, sliding his fingers into the spaces between the ribbon, loosening the corset and brushing against your skin as it became exposed. 

When it was so loose that you had to hold it up, he slid a hand over your shoulder to your chest, splaying his fingers wide over your rib cage and tugging you back against him, your head on his chest as you looked up at him. 

“Do you think you can rest tonight, Cyare?” He asked, his nose brushing yours. 

“No,” you breathed. 

“Then let me help you,” he said. 

You dropped the dress and stepped out of it, exposing your all but naked body to him. He nudged you back down on the bed and slid your underwear - your last remaining stitch of clothing - off your body. 

“Din,” you moaned. 

“I know,” he said, removing his armor quickly, followed by his flight suit. He left it all with the dress, crawling up your body. He brushed your hair back, searching your eyes.

You were afraid, like him. Hurting, like him. You were his mirror and he was yours and he needed to be one with you. 

He kissed you, gently, his hand tracing down your body to the apex of your thighs. He lightly brushed and teased your clit, making you whimper. 

“Promise me it will be OK,” you begged him, your lips brushing his own. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be OK…” 

“It’s going to be OK,” he said, not sure he believed it himself. He believed you’d given them the best chance, the best hope, of it being OK. He knew he wouldn’t rest until it was OK. “I promise, it will be OK.” 

You clung to him and he worked your clit faster, sliding two fingers into your wet heat. Your velvet walls gripped him tight and he groaned, ready for it to be his cock inside of you like this instead of his fingers. 

He pressed his fingers into the soft space inside you that he’d claimed as his own over and over again until you came with a gasp around him. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, looking at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown. 

“Need you,” you were panting. “Please, need you close…” 

“Need you, too, Cyare,” he said, taking his swollen cock in his hand, spreading your wetness over himself. He notched himself against you for a moment before sinking into you, your fingers digging into his back as he entered you. 

Your back arched and he slipped an arm below you to hold you closer, your skin impossibly soft against his. You rocked your hips up against him, hooking a leg over his hip as he pressed into you as deeply as he could, your body tightening around him. 

“Din,” you panted, holding your whole body against him, like you couldn’t be too close. “Please…” 

“It’s going to be OK, Cyare,” he managed, so focused on how you felt it was hard to be aware of anything else. “It’s going to be OK. I have you, we’re in this together, it’s going to be OK…” 

You came with a strangled gasp and the tightness of you set him off, filling you. 

He held onto you, your body all but completely wound around his as he enveloped you. He liked it this way. That you needed him to be this close, too. 

“I love you, Cyare,” he panted, holding your face in his hand. “I’ll protect you. We’ll save him. It’s going to be OK.” 

“I know,” you took a shaky breath and nodded. “I know.” 

[steelhipdesign]

Just in time for Christmas - my heart series. I was going for a neon and back lit vibe with these panels. These rubber LED filaments allow me to curve them into any shape for the lighting I want. Both the blue and green heart are mounted slightly raised above the wooden base to achieve the back light effect.

They are inspired by the steampunk aesthetic, a bit of Frankenstein's laboratory and dash of retro neon love. I'm trying to move LED into more adult jewelry designs but I don't want to lose the sense of magic that light creates.

These all have a range of components, many genuine vintage collected over the years. I like combining parts from different eras and a wide range of industries. There are a few standouts on these pieces: the vintage brass heart cage, mesh window on the blue heart and the feature titanium coloured screw on the green heart.

[the-man-in-the-wind]

I’ve been asked to explain my kit and my workflow by @savage-daughter-of-nikitie.

I use either a Canon 80D, Canon 5D Mk IV or a Sony A7Riv with a sigma MC-11 mount converter. I also have a Canon 300D and a Canon 70D from both of which I have removed the internal infrared filter, so that I can shoot in the Infrared.

I have a number of tripods and LED light panels which I sometimes use, but for most general things I prefer to use natural light with perhaps a small reflector.

Lens-wise, my aviation photography is done using either a Sigma 60-600mm f/4.5-6.3 OS DG Sports or a Canon 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L MkI.

For other general photography such as landscapes and when I do portraits, (which I don’t post here). I have a range of lenses but my favourites are:

* Canon EF 24-70mm f/2.8l USM

* Canon 50mm f/1.8

* Lensbaby Velvet 56mm f/1.6

* Canon EF-S 10-22mm f/3.5-4.5 (this won’t fit on the Sony / MC-11 combo)

For macro photography I generally use either a Sigma 105mm f/2.8 EX DG OS HSM macro or, very occasionally, a Canon MP-E 65mm 1-5x Macro with a lot of light and a macro rail.

I occasionally use a Newer variable ND e.g to slow flowing water and I have various intervalometers, and all of the Pluto Trigger and Dripper kit for water droplets or complex triggering.

I also use my phone camera more and more and then achieve effects in Lightroom, Photoshop or Topaz AI

My workflow varies depending upon the type of photography. By way of an example, for the flower studies my workflow is:

1. Photos were taken on a variety of kit, mainly my phone.

2. Import into Lightroom

3. Square crop the flower and rotate to get the best light/symmetry/arrangement.

4. Use Lightroom’s Subject Mask to initially mask the flower and refine using brush addition/subtraction

5. Duplicate and invert the mask to effectively mask the background

6. Set exposure, contrast, highlights, shadows, whites, blacks and saturation to zero. This removes the background allowing the flower to stand alone but gives me the option to recover the background should I wish to later.

7. At this point any issues with masking become very noticeable so I will often refine both flower and background masks once more.

8. Return to the flower mask and set the exposure, contrast, white balance, response curves, saturation and sharpness as required, to make the flower pop.

9. I often apply radial masks to even the exposure or highlight the inner or outer sections at this point.

10. Use the heal tools to remove pollen specs, imperfections or other issues. Lightroom’s content aware AI healing is extremely good these days.

11. I then catalogue, add metadata, and export to a number of private and public storage and distribution services.

I have two projects I want to start as we move into winter, life permitting.

Firstly, I want to try to do some star trails. Near where I live there is a park on an escarpment running east west, with a couple of stone crosses that can be photographed from the south with the Polaris (the North Star, which is the centre or rotation in the night sky) just above the top of one of them.

I also want to play more with my 70D and do some more IR photography. This makes warmer parts of the scene brighter and cooler darker and can lead to some eerie effects. I have a long standing desire to visit a certain chateau in France and photograph it in IR.

This is probably way more than you were asking for and I’m not sure is this is what you wanted to know, but I hope it helps.

[thenixkat]

[id: A crop of multiple curving panels focused on a superhero, a Black woman scantily clad and decked out in gold jewelry with bright red micro braids and green eyes, flying in to grab Captain Atom and fly away with him.

Sound effect: Sszzzaaamm!

Captain Atom: Thanks for the save-- whoever you are-- Maxima: I am called-- Maxima!! We've got to get out of here. Atom: But-- wait-- those people--the Justice League-- /end id]

[id: A cropped comic panel of a scantily clad Black woman with red micro braids and bedecked in golden jewelry dragging the superhero Captain Atom by his hair as she walks through the snow.

Maxima (the woman): Earth--? What's Earth? /end id]

[id: Three cropped panels from a comic featuring Maxima dressed in a bathrobe talking to Captain Atom who is eating while powered down in one panel and then powered up and flying off in the last panel.

Atom: This "maelstrom"-- is an energy field that's the source of my powers. I'm propelled through it when I absorb too much power-- and catapulted into the future. Time and space are a bit irrelevant in the field. Maxima: I brought you here to save us. Will you--? Atom: No. /end id]

[id: Two cropped panels featuring Maxima in a loose pink robe with a furious expression and then naked and heavily shadowed.

Maxima: I'll make you a counteroffer. /end id]

[id: Two comic panels featuring Maxima in her superhero costume kneeling at a grave while holding a bundle of pink flowers. In a close-up in the second panel, she touches her belly.

Maxima: I suppose you must go. Captain Atom (offscreen): I don't belong here, Maxima. We both know that. Maxima: Even if a part of you remains--? /end id]

(Justice League America Annual #10)

Maxima from War World that was under Lord Havok/Maxwell Lord's control in an unknown date in the future. A cloned Ted Kord/Blue Beetle 2 in that time is her lover, the two of them co-led the revolution against Lord Havok's imperialist machinations and fought his fascist cloned Justice League with Ted acting as a double agent.

Yo, we need to use this Maxima for something. Like, we just can't let her fade into obscurity. Ted's alive and single in the comics right now, let him have his hot dommy redhead space girlfriend! For my sake, I wanna see more of her.