#classic looks

[tracksuitlesbian]

[stricklandvintagewatches]

Jessica Randolph capturing the very real '50s fad of wearing a watch on one's ankle. Photo by: Bodacious Betty Pinup Photography

Special thanks to Rossie Newson Photography, Hanna Cowart- Model/Photographer, Corinne Smrz, Joli Beauchamp Makeup, Christine Cowart and Centro Asturiano de Tampa

[misandriste]

peneloise + gazing longingly at each other

BRIDGERTON, season 3 part 1

[joshuamj]

Okay, but what if EoW!Zelda had to impersonate Link

[exclusonic]

INSANE TITLE???

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton draws FNAF tape girl for Vanessa,,

[hoshizoralone]

comm for a samus comic based on that one tony hawk tweet. this would happen to her.

[bloodwards]

bene gesserit costuming + occult and religious imagery

[happyheidi]

𝖵𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗏𝖺𝗇 𝖦𝗈𝗀𝗁'𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌

1- 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 1888 2- 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘚𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵-𝘙𝘦́𝘮𝘺-𝘥𝘦-𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘍𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘺 1890 3- 𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘈𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘭 1888 4- 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘖𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘈𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘭 1888

[learnelle]

Walking home from work and admiring some late night Parisian bookshops 🍂📚

[idlesuperstar]

this speaks to me on a molecular level

[lilyblossom-art]

Classic Zelink weeeeee

I gave zelda a bow just cuz :>

[septembergold]

[captainfern]

Being an adult sucks so much. Having Price put me in a headlock as he grunts in my ear how he's going to breed me would solve all my problems.

in a put-me-in-a-headlock-and-fuck-me mood rn tbh

john price x fem!reader, 18+

john was a family man, and you knew that. ever since you met him, his team— his family— had been his everything and now there was you. you were his everything, his family.

but there was one thing missing. of course, kids weren’t for everyone. but price was made to be a father— made to have a family. his bones built to sustain, his heart scattered with holes ready to be filled with tiny smiles and happy giggles.

your husbands emotion about starting a family was a soft spot for you. a weakness. you, ever observant, clocked the way his hands roamed over the curve of your belly, or the way his eyes lingered on baby items whenever the two of you went shopping together.

so maybe that’s why you let him pin you to him. pin you beneath his weight like a butterfly beneath the point of a needle. on display, only for him, pretty and still and unable to fly away.

not that you’d ever want to do that. fly away. john’s soft nature and calloused hands had long clipped your wings. you had no reason to take flight. he’d fly you anywhere you wanted, anyway.

but just in case, in case your mind ticked over to something else entirely, he held you tight against his chest—

and fucked you deep.

you were breathless. underwater, lungs struggling to fill. he reached so deep inside you, stretching you out across his thick cock in a way that winded you. all you could do was gasp and mewl, moan his name as your body shuddered with each of his thrusts.

“john,” you whimpered, hands gripping the sheets in front of you. “s-so deep, john, fuck—”

your throat was nestled gently in the crook of his elbow, his bicep squashing the side of your face. his large body kept you weighted to the bed, thighs spread over his legs as he rutted his cock deep inside you. you were well and truly trapped against him.

the hair on his face rubbed against the sensitive skin of your shoulder as he rested his head there, lips dangerously close to your ear. you could hear each grunt and groan, the sounds sending your heart racing.

“john,” you whispered again, his ragged breath tickling the side of your cheek. “so good, baby. feels so good.”

john grunted out, a growl as the head of his cock knocked up against the base of your cervix. your pussy clenched around him, warm and wet, drooling around the girth. you could feel it dripping out of you with each thrust, arousal leaking down your thighs.

john could feel it too. he groaned, holding you tighter to him. “fuck, such a messy girl. can feel this cunt fuckin’ dripping ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

you whined, and he placed an open-mouth kiss to the patch of warm skin just by your ear, feeling your pulse beneath his lips. you were thrumming, alive, and all his.

your cunt gripped around his cock with each harsh movement, gummy walls moulding to him. you could feel the drag of his cock against you, too, and the way it sent little shocks of pleasure through the base of your spine and into your tummy. pleasure built there, bubbling and fizzing.

the fat of your arse bounced against his pelvis, rippling with each movement. he couldn’t see it, but he could imagine— imagine how beautiful you looked beneath him. every single part of you. his beautiful wife. his perfect wife.

he groaned into your ear, cock pushing deep towards your womb. god, he wanted to fill you up. pump you full of white gold. his ichor. you could create so much from that alone. a garden of eden lying in your womb, just for him—

john groaned again as your pussy clenched around the thick of his cock. warm and wet and tight. the perfect fit.

“such a greedy pussy. s’just so desperate to be bred, isn’t she?” john uttered, nosing at the shell of your ear. “fuck, an’ I might just fuckin’ do it, sweetheart. have too, don’t I? wouldn’t want to upset my favourite girls.”

his bicep tightened once more, and you released an airy moan. the pleasure in your stomach was increasing, your hips bucking to meet the heavy thrusts slamming against your arse.

wet slaps echoed through the room. his cock drawing obscene noises from your cunt, arousal sticky across most of your upper legs now. your body burned hot, and you could feel the way your husband’s cock slipped in and out of you.

“john—” you moaned out, hands fisted in the warm sheets, but he interrupted you.

“need to breed you,” he grunted suddenly, eyes screwed shut and arm firm around your throat, head nestled tight against the curve of your shoulder. “need to breed this tight fuckin’ pussy.”

your head was swimming. and now too was your orgasm, swimming in the base of your stomach, swollen clit pulsing as it drew nearer. you could smell john, the sweat and cologne, and that was setting you off too— a whimpered moan being torn from your throat.

john continued. “need t’breed this pussy, sweetheart. need to fill you up. get you nice an’ fat with my kids.” he stopped only to groan, hips stuttering, then continued again. “got to make you a mama, baby. got to breed this greedy pussy an’ make me a fuckin’ daddy—”

you came with a loud moan of his name, body shuddering beneath the sheer mass of his. your cunt clenched tight, whole body shaking as your orgasm rinsed through you, slipping through your bloodstream like adrenaline. it fizzled out in your nerve endings, though, clit pulsing in a beautiful synchronous rhythm with your heart.

john’s bastard mouth—

“now take it, sweetheart. be a good girl and take it all,” john quickly muttered into your ear, and that was all the information you got before he was coming inside you.

his cockhead was nestled right up against the plug of your womb, his hips to your arse, as he emptied himself inside you. moaning your name, his cock twitched inside the tight, wet clutch of your cunt, and he thrusted lazily a few more times to flush his orgasm from his system.

he dropped his body weight against you, even more than he had done before, and groaned in your ear, releasing you from the headlock he had imprisoned you in. he kissed along your shoulder, grounding himself, as his cock slowly began to soften inside you.

but something told you he wasn’t going to pull out any time soon. didn’t want to sever the connection. his connection to you. his garden of eden.

“alright, mama?” he whispered, kissing your cheek and then nuzzling you there. he could feel the heat of your face against his own, his beard rubbing against your skin.

“m’good,” you mumbled sleepily. “s’just so full.”

“mhm,” price hummed, pleased, like a content cat bathing in the sunlight. “full of me.”

[detectivehole]

when the beat drops or whatever tf you call it in classical music in Danse Macabre Op.04 Camille Saint-Saëns (1875)

[shriika]

"Give me your hands, let me touch you… and you, and you, and you too!"