#a line flared skirt

[mididressobsessed]

Source: chicwish.com

[roseband]

ew he's in nyc for some boring luxury brand's launch

[mortalityplays]

the funniest thing about being gay is the way that displays of heterosexuality inevitably age into homosexuality. the women's parlour tea societies and pier-side strongmen of the 1900s. the patriotic rosie riveters and coiffed soldier boys of wartime. the A-line skirts and cat eye glasses and mutton chops and flares of the 70s. the camo minidresses and divine sisterhoods and lad on lad on lad culture of the 90s. it's ours now. the bikers and the sailors and the flappers and the beat poets and the hippies and the ladies maids. you parody yourselves to escape from us and we eat it for breakfast forever and ever amen.

[holeysweaterday]

hey y’all what search terms are we using for those long long super flowy voluminous skirts?

[salty-apples]

Adventures in the Classroom: A Silhouette Romance

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Zoro is fuckboy material.

Sanji is boyfriend material.

Shanks is husband material.

Mihawk is BDSM Dom Daddy™ material.

Earlier I refused to elaborate.

Now, I will elaborate no further than the sources below the dotted line.

dottedlinethedottedlinethedottedlineth

Zoro

He'll pull you into a broom closet without any warning at all, turn you around, pull your panties down under your skirt, and have you right there when the mood strikes.

Then he'll catch your eye across the deck half an hour later and give you a little smirk that makes your cheeks flare bright red. You're not sure if you want to either kick him in the shin or go for another round right that moment, if not both.

He's not looking for anything serious because he's just not that good at getting close with anyone or being emotionally available in general.

There's a lot of time between port towns, and you're a good match for each other's physical needs and desires, but not much beyond that.

Sanji

Even if he is a relentless flirt, he's just such a complete sweetheart. It's difficult not to swoon at those subtle little touches at your waist and hips, at his seductive murmur in your ear.

He respects every last one of your boundaries; if you tell him something he's doing bothers you, he's going to back off from it. No protest, no questions asked. He's still going to make it clear that he thinks you're incredible, but he wants you to be comfortable and happy above all else.

He's still as sweet as candy even once he does win you over. Playful and flirty and constantly planning the most romantic dates. Picnics on the beach, preparing candlelit diners just for the two of you, laying out a pallet of blankets and pillows with a bottle of wine under the stars—doing everything possible to make you feel special.

It's difficult to tell where it will go, but he's sweet and doting and fun, and he puts every ounce of effort into treating you like literal royalty.

Shanks

You're his lover just as much as you are his best friend. He doesn't hold anything back from you, good or bad, trivial or important. He wouldn't ever consider keeping a secret from you because the thought simply wouldn't even cross his mind—whatever he knows, you know. If anyone else tells him something in confidence, they tell him knowing that he's going to tell you the second he sees you.

His gestures of romance are more subtle and revolved around camaraderie than worship. If you're cooking or cleaning, he wants to be there, both to help lessen the load and to just be there with you. If he sees you washing dishes, he's right there next to you with a towel to dry them and put them away. If you're cooking, he's helping clean up after you. If you're sweeping the floors, he's apt to just take the broom from you, kiss you on the cheek, and tell you to go take a load off and relax.

Absolutely nothing could ever stop him from being with you. There could be an entire armada of Marine warships between you and him, and he would still find his way to you.

Every hope or dream you have ever had in your life is also his now. Literally all of them. It doesn't matter how long ago it was or how unobtainable it seems—if you still want it, he wants to make sure you achieve it. Does't matter what it is. He's never going to tell you it's silly or impossible or unachievable—he's going to exhaust every effort to find a way to make sure you can achieve it.

Mihawk

Hopefully you didn’t have too many plans of your own, because if you've managed to catch his interest, he's going to make sure that you're his, and probably within the next twenty-four hours or less.

He isn’t completely unreasonable. You will have the option to refuse. But he isn’t going to beat around the bush, either. He's going to pull you against him by your hips, comb his fingers through your hair and grasp it to pull you in and ask you outright if you want to belong to him.

He won't pressure you if you say no. That's your choice. He'll just leave you with a deep, passionate kiss that makes your knees weak, a light brush of his thumb across your lips, and he'll let you go.

But if you say yes...then good luck. You're his now, and he's never letting you go.

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1: Easy Revenge [Aphrodisiac] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Chuuya Nakahara x afab! Reader

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis : rivals to fuckers! you and chuuya are always butting heads, competing for mori’s right-hand spot. done with his games, you take matters into your own hands, slipping aphrodisiac into his favorite wine.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: mdni 18+ content, smut with plot, aphrodisiac use, rough sex, sweat sex, female anatomy mentioned, degrading, feral chuuya, creampie, missionary, fingering, list goes on and on ppft it's kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 3.5k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

you scrunch your nose, contemplating whether this is truly the right choice. with a sigh, you light another cigarette, but the pull of smoke does little to calm your nerves. frustrated, you shake your head—maybe it's too risky. yet the memory of his smug smirk as he belittled your ability—"useless against mine"—flares in your mind, igniting rage within you...fuck it!

that’s all it takes. the decision is made. with a grin curling your lips, you slip the drug into his glass, watching the liquid swirl as it dissolves. you don’t see him as an enemy, no—rivals, more like. rivals who have been vying for mori’s approval, constantly butting heads, showing off on missions, each of you out to prove who deserves to be the right-hand executive more.

the man in question has known you for nearly four years now. he knows your strengths, your sharp wit, and how you can hold your ground. but does he know how manipulative you can be? oh, not quite.

you press your lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your racing heart before stubbing out your cigarette. adjusting the fabric of your burgundy skirt, you feel the black coat draped over your shoulders, its weight heavier than usual. your fingers brush over the cool crystal of the two wine glasses, and you glance at the bottle sitting prominently on the table.

vosne-romanée aux reignots—a rare indulgence, most of your paycheck sacrificed for this exquisite temptation. But the price doesn’t matter now. the ginger is the target tonight, and the prize will be well worth it.

your heart pounds enthusiastically as you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind his office's door. the click of polished shoes reverberates through the quiet corridor. perfect timing.

you take the opportunity to move quickly, gracefully settling onto the nearby leather couch, the cool material sighing beneath you as you take off your coat and place it beside you.

tou hold your wine glass between your fingers, the stem balanced delicately, your burgundy nail polish gleaming against the deep crimson of the wine. it’s a picture of elegance, one you’ve carefully curated—every detail intentional, even the way you let the liquid swirl lazily in the glass.

the door swings open, and there he is—the infuriating ginger who keeps you up at night, constantly plotting ways to put an end to his ridiculous games.

his movements heavy laced with exhaustion as he strides in, eyes closed, head hanging forward huffing in frustration, he yanks off his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the couch beside you, the leather creaking under its weight. he’s still oblivious to your presence. it’s almost amusing, really. you take in the sight—his bolo tie loosened, his dress shirt slightly untucked, his usually collected demeanour crumbling at the edges from a long day.

it’s only when you clear your throat, the sound slicing through the silence, that his eyes shoot open, narrowing immediately as he notices you lounging in his space.

“what the fuck are ya doin' here?” he snarls. classic—his sharp gaze flicks to the wine in your hand, then to the second glass on the table.

you don’t budge. instead, you take your time, tsking softly, rolling your eyes with the kind of practised nonchalance that only gets under his skin more. “is that any way to talk to someone who just bought you an expensive-ass vosne-romanée aux reignots?”

you tilt your head, letting the scent of the wine blend with the faint aroma of leather from the couch, easing you for a bit.

“are ya fuckin' serious now?” he scoffs.

clearly, he hadn’t expected you—of all people—to buy him one of his favourite, expensive wines. his gaze flickers again between you and the glass, his mind no doubt racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of your intentions. what are you scheming? he doesn’t trust you. that much is obvious, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates what game you're playing this time.

you smirk, cutting off his spiralling thoughts as you rise gracefully from the couch. with a casual wave of your hand, your so-called "useless" telekinesis comes into play, and the glass of wine—now laced with the aphrodisiac—glides through the air, hovering just before you as it rests between your fingers.

"here," you purr, stepping toward him, the glass now offered in an outstretched hand. "I’ve been thinking... about putting an end to this never-ending cycle of torture between us."

chuuya’s gaze locks with yours, fatigue etched into his features, yet despite his weariness, there’s an undeniable allure, every ragged breath only amplifies his seductive charm.

"you win, nakahara," you continue, your voice luring him like a siren. "let me make it up to you for always getting on your nerves these past four years, yeah?"

ugh, how much he hates it when someone calls him by his last name... it feels like you’re doing it on purpose.

the ginger's eyes dart from the glass to your face, his lips curling into his usual suspicious smirk. he doesn't reach for the wine right away, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “tch, and what’s this sudden change of heart? you don’t fold that easy, especially not to me.”

“you really expect me to believe you just… gave up? that’s bullshit.”

“oh, chuuya... you know me better than that. but even rivals need to call a truce every now and then, right? a little peace offering.” You nudge the glass closer to him, the delicate scent of the wine swirling between you. “come on, take it. i’m just trying to be civil. is that really so hard to believe?”

“civil? from you?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly before finally reaching out to take the glass.

“alright, fine. but don’t think i’m lettin’ my guard down ‘round you.”

"not in the slightest," you reply with ease, watching as he brings the glass to his lips. his expression remains doubtful, but the rich scent of the expensive wine causes his taste buds to tingle and his mouth to water. You know him far too well—well enough to play your cards just right.

as he takes a slow sip, savouring the taste, a surge of triumph rises within you. it’s only a matter of minutes now before you can set the second part of your perfectly crafted revenge plan into motion.

he lets out a low, satisfied hum as the wine glides smoothly down his throat. He tilts the glass slightly, eyeing the dark liquid within, almost as if he’s trying to figure out what your angle is. but he can’t resist—his love for fine wine is too deeply ingrained, and this, of course, is one of his favourites. you can already see his guard starting to slip, just the slightest.

"not bad," he mutters, still watching you over the rim of his glass. "but i know you, and you don’t play nice for no reason. what’s really going on here?"

you flash him a coy smile, stepping a little closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool rim of your own glass. "maybe i’m just tired of these endless games, nakahara. maybe I’ve decided it’s time for a change. orrr maybe..." you pause, pressing your lips together, "...I just wanted to see if I could surprise you for once."

he scoffs but takes another sip, the warmth of the wine starting to flush his cheeks. unbeknownst to him, the aphrodisiac is already beginning its work, creeping through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of his suspicion. you can see it—the subtle shift in his body language, the way his shoulders loosen, his gaze softening ever so slightly, his now half-lidded eyes, the slight crease that forms between his brows as his body begins to betray him.

the countdown has begun.

"surprise me?" he says, setting the now-empty glass down on the table, a faint sheen of sweat forms at his temple, barely noticeable beneath the soft glow of the office's light.

"well, you’ve got my attention. now what?"

you take a slow breath, feigning innocence as you glance at him through your lashes. "now... we see just how much you can handle."

he narrows his eyes at you, confused, "what?" he rasps, his voice a little rougher than before. his breathing grows heavier, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls with each intake of air. sure, indeed, the drug is coursing through his veins now, the heat in his body building beyond what he can suppress.

he swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his hands twitching at his sides. you can see how his jaw clenches and relaxes in rapid succession, his mind trying to keep up with the unexpected sensations taking over. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable as he tugs at his collar, loosening it. “what the hell’d ya do?”

without waiting for an answer, he reaches up and starts unbuttoning his vest, tossing it aside with a huff, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow.

you can’t help but giggle. "wow, I thought these things took a little longer to kick in."

"you—ngh—" he starts, but his words catch in his throat as he takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself.

you watch with a growing thrill as the bulge in his pants becomes undeniably visible. a soft, wicked chuckle escapes you as you lift your leg, pressing it against the armrest of the chair, just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your laced black panties peeking out from beneath your burgundy skirt.

"aww, what’s the matter? can’t use that oh-so-useful ability when you’re too fucked out of your mind?" you tease, giggling at the ginger-haired man caught in your little trap.

“fuck… you…” he manages as he glares deadly in your eyes, face flushed, the heat spreading from his cheeks down to his chest, which is now exposed from the hastily loosened buttons of his dress shirt. his breathing is ragged, each intake of air a struggle as the drug's effects entwine with his rage.

you chuckle, tilting your head slightly as you eye him up and down. "pathetic."

before you can say another word, he snarls, and in an instant, his gloved hand shoots out, fingers locking into your hair with a firm grip earning a yelp from you. he yanks you forward, the sudden force pulling you off balance as you fumble right into his lap.

and only then that he smashes his lips against yours into a sloppy kiss, the lingering taste of wine on his tongue melds with the intoxicating heat that surges from your mouth, flooding your veins until it pools deep in your stomach, igniting the desire you’ve fought to suppress for years. spit mingles with the remnants of your pleasure, slicking your lips and trickling down your chin. he gasps into the kiss, pulling you even closer, leaving you no space to escape.

the heat radiating from his body is unbearable, seeping through your clothes as you sit straddled on his lap and you can feel his hard cock against you, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. his hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you at once.

you try to pull away, desperate for air, but he doesn't let up. he follows your retreat, lips chasing yours with a frantic hunger, completely lost in the desire overtaking him. his lips crash against yours again, “ch-chuuya, wa—mph” you try, but the second you say his name, his grip tightens against your hip, and he swallows your words with another kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, tasting every part of you like he can’t get enough.

one of his hands moved from your hips, working up your shirt, and before you even realize what he’s doing, he pulls, buttons snapping and scattering to the floor. You let out a low growl, annoyed that your favourite shirt is now ruined, but it’s clear—he’s far beyond caring about anything right now. “shut up,” he growls between kisses, “y' knew what you were doing when you started this.”

before you can respond, he yanks off his gloves with his teeth, half-lidded dark azure eyes clearly promising you of a night that you shall not forget. his hands grip your waist firmly, and without warning, he lifts you effortlessly and throws you onto the leather couch. the cool material hit the fevered heat of your skin once again, but the reprieve is short-lived as you watch him hastily unbuckle his belt, his pants falling to the floor and his boxers following suit.

the moment his cock springs free, your breath hitches—fuck, he’s thick. Insanely thick. the sight of it sends a jolt of desire straight through your dripping core, making your thighs instinctively press together. you’d thought about this before, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

it’s beautiful, flushed a deep shade of pink with veins running along the sides, pulsing with the need to feel your gummy walls tighten around it. the head glistens with precum, the sight alone making your mouth water. he’s long too, but it’s the sheer girth that has your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to take him.

“you nasty girl,” he taunts, his gaze never leaving yours. “you were just lookin’ for an excuse for me to fuck you?”

you don’t deny it—not even to yourself. the truth stings in your chest. part of this was revenge for what happened earlier today, but the other part? well... you wanted this. hell, you needed this.

you bite your lip, flashes of memory crossing your mind—the number of times you walked by his office late at night, hearing those soft, lewd moans slipping through the cracks of the door. the rhythmic slap of his hand working up and down his cock as he sat behind his desk, thinking no one could hear him. but you did. you heard it all. and you couldn’t stop yourself. your back pressed against his office door, fingers working frantically between your legs as you listened to him come undone, biting down on your lip to stifle your own moans as you cum to the sound of him alone.

you feel your cheeks heat with the realization. of course, he’s right. you’d been waiting for an excuse, and tonight, you finally got one.

“you wanted to see me like this, hmm?” his voice cuts through your thoughts as he strokes himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. his smirk widens as he watches the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs clench together, the way your breath quickens with each passing second. “enjoyin’ how desperate you’ve made me? ngh—don’t worry, you’re gonna get exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

he climbs onto the couch, towering above you with a lust glint in his eyes. his hands waste no time yanking your skirt up, the fabric bunching around your waist as he grabs the waistband of your panties and rips them off with a low hiss. the sudden contact makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you arch your back, pressing yourself against him. his breath catches when he sees how soaked you are.

“fuck…” he breathes, a low hum of amusement rumbling in his chest. he’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat glistening on his skin. his fingers graze your slit, feeling the wetness pooling there, and a wicked grin curls on his lips. “fuck, you’re soaking wet. look at you, maybe you're not as in control as you thought,” he growls chuckling, his ever so pale cheeks were flushing red by now, ginger locks sticking to the sides of his face.

you moan as two of his fingers slip inside you, your back arching against the couch as his slender digits stretch you. they sink deep, curling just enough to make you gasp, your cunt clenching around them as he moves with an agonizingly slow pace. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, every breath he takes coming out ragged, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"what's wrong, doll" he whispers against your lips, "can't handle it? you wanted to play this game, didn't you hmm?"

your mind is spinning. each touch, each thrust of his fingers drives you closer to the edge, and you can't help but curse yourself for underestimating him. you had thought you'd be the one in control, but now...

now, you're the one falling apart beneath him.

he pumps his fingers harder, your walls fluttering around them, and you let out another lewd moan, the wet sound filling the room and making his cock twitch with an urgent need for release “hah—fuck it, I need to feel you.”

the heat was too much for him to bear. driven by an insatiable hunger, he yanks his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips. he sucks them clean with a low, needy hum, eyes half-closed in pleasure. his cock, already glistening with precum.

obviously he isn’t in the mood for teasing tonight, fuck no. he wants to be inside you, to feel you right here and now.

he guides himself between your the soft plush of your thighs, his breath hitching as he aligns with your slick entrance. with a low feral groan, he pushes inside, feeling your tight walls envelop him completely. his body, consumed by the sheer amout of pleasure, drove him to thrust balls deep inside you, arms hooked under your legs as he lets out a high-pitched moan, "aah- FUCK!!"

“you..ahh fuck.. thought you could outsmart me?” he growls, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, his thrusts never faltering. "you shoulda known better than to pull that kinda shit on me."

his words only make you burn hotter, your body responding to him in ways you didn’t expect. you were supposed to have the upper hand tonight, but instead you're a moaning mess at this point, sweet whimpers spill from your lips, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s stretching you causing a slight sting that quickly gets replaced by a tingling pleasure shooting through your entire body. each powerful thrust has you screaming, your mind overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that floods through you with every forceful slam against your ass.

his breaths are trembling, gasps turning into whimpers as he struggles to keep control. his eyes roll back, revealing only the whites as the heat and ecstasy take over, "nghh— fuck yess-"

hot chills ripple through his body, his veins pulsing with the relentless heat of his desire. oh, he was far too gone. the way you make him feel so good? it's illegal. but how could you complain when he was making you feel so incredibly good, filling every inch of you?

threading your fingers through his ginger locks, you tug sharply, drawing a low growl from him. he brings his lips down against yours, then pulls back just long enough to groan, “fffuck, you feel heavenly.”

he quickens his pace thursting his hips into you at just the right angle hitting all the right spots that have you cursing some nonsense, he snakes his hand down between your soft thighs applying the perfect amount of pressure against your clit fingers working rapidly while driving you wild with each thrust. your moans become a continuous cry as your orgasm finally crashes over you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. your vision blurs, your entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

"chuu-ya!" you cry out, your back arching off the couch as your walls clench around his cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

chuuya groans, his rhythm faltering as your orgasm sends him spiralling toward his own release. with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you balls deep. his cock twitches as he spills deep inside you, filling you with his hot white ropes.

the wet slap of his cock that was thrusting hardly into your pussy became slower, sloppier as he pulls out.

for a moment, the world is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. the rivalry, the tension, the mind games—they’re all gone, replaced by the undeniable truth of what just happened.

after both of you come down from the high, you push yourself up, panting softly as you gather your scattered clothes from the floor.

you glance over at chuuya, only to notice he’s already hard again, his body still betraying the intense pleasure of moments before.

“UGH FUCK!!" he curses loudly, throwing his head back with annoyance written all over his face.

you let out a soft, amused giggle at the sight. it looks like he was only getting started. Maybe you accidentally doubled the dose... purely by mistake, of course.

kouyou chuckles as she leans back in her chair, glancing at the camera feed.

"kouyou-sama... it's been an hour since chuuya went in," the technician reports shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The ginger woman chuckles, covering her lips with the sleeve of her kimono, "well... either one of them is dead, or they’ve discovered that the desk isn’t just for paperwork anymore."

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetfruity @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing a turn of the 15th century French kirtle in doll scale

Another day, another historical doll outfit! This time it's Late Medieval. This was a popular style from about 1380-1420 France and Alpine area, but I specifically based this dress on French illuminations from the early 15th century, which mostly effects the details, like headwear. As always I hand stitched everything and stuck to historical construction methods as much as I could.

Chemise

I made a very simple chemise. The construction is based on what we know from extant finds, made out of simple rectangles and triangles, like earlier unlaced kirtles. Based on illustrations, chemise was fairly slim but unfitted enough it didn't need closures. I made it from linen, because it's not very gathered and won't bulk up too much, so I don't need to use my very fine cotton voile.

Cote

Cote is just the French word for kirtle, so appropriate here. This is the supportive layer cote, which was sort of an undergarment, but was considered fully dressed, if informal on it's own. The sleeves on this underlayer were always long and either fully fitted or gathered at the wrist. Some fitted sleeve styles had a flare at the wrist which covered the hand. The very fitted look was achieved with buttons. The silhouette was smooth and fitted, the waistline was slightly above the natural waist, though that was not as pronounced in France as in Northern Italy. Abdomen was emphasized, round lower stomach was the body ideal. The cut of the dress left plenty of room there. To fill that room I folded the chemise under the abdomen as a sort of padding. This was common to do with any kind of skirts, primarily to raise the hem when working, but why not for this purpose also? The necklines were fairly low and very wide.

I used cotton because I didn't have suitable thin enough wool that wouldn't have created too much bulk on this scale, but the cote should have been made from. The cotton is tightly woven and sells the look of a woven wool in this scale well enough for me. I didn't finish seems or line it to avoid bulk. I did give the lacing a cording to reinforce it and avoid wrinkling. The cotton was originally white, but I dyed it with iron oxide, basically rust, which at least is very much historical.

Hose

I made the hose from cotton as well for the same reasons as I did the cote. Long pointed style became fashionable around this time, as well as sewing leather soles in the bottoms of the hose instead of using shoes. Though often pattens (wooden flipflops basically) could be used when walking outside to protect the leather soles.

Cornettes or horned hair

I tied the hair with a tape on cornettes, where the volume of hair was tied on the temples to create a bit of horned appearance, especially when combined with the horned headwear. The sort of fillet which became more of a forehead loop seemed to have been tied into the hair, which I did.

Cotehardie

Cotehardie meant literally "bold cote", and in France that was what the formal outer cote was called. It was basically the same as cote, but made from more expensive materials and often had large hanging sleeves. I went with widening triangular sleeves, since they were perhaps the most popular sleeves at the time. I used fine fulled wool (verka) I had enough scraps left from. White fur was popular lining material, but obviously I can't use fur in this scale, I wish I had some light white velvet, it would have been pretty good, but I didn't. I lined the skirt and the sleeves with white cotton to imitate the look without adding too much body or extra bulk. I decorated the neckline with a simple golden trim. I thought about adding a bit of golden embroidery around it too, like seemed to have been popular, but my local crafts store had run out of golden thread so I decided to go with this only.

Accessories

Unlike the belt used with houppelande, which was below bust, the belt used with the kirtle or cotehardie, was very low, under the abdomen to emphasize it. I went for a silk belt look, which I'm imagining is embroidered/woven with golden thread, since embroidery that small would have been too painful. I had an old broken necklace, which I could use for the metallic parts.

With the pouch I went for the tasseled drawstring look, with simple embroidery manageable in this scale. I used linen for it.

Headwear

I made her a chaperon, which likely was where the escoffion got it's beginning, escoffion being the round tube-like headwear worn on top of the head seen in several primary source images above. Early form of escoffion was becoming very popular at the time, though chaperon's were still seen on women too. Chaperon, as seen below both on the left-most woman and the man in the middle was actually just the hood rolled into a circle.

Because the horned look was popular, the escoffion and chaperon were often worn over the wired horned veil, so I first made that. I made it from cotton to make it as light as possible. It was just a square I hemmed. I just used some wire to poke out the horns from her hair and pinned the veil close from the back and onto her hair from the top.

Then I made the open hood. It was just the regular hood which had become very popular during the last century and which had ever longer narrow tip, but it was pinned and worn open, probably because of the hair style and to again create the horned look. I made if from the same cotton I made the hose, even though it too should be from wool. But it was already too bulky as it was.

And finally I could make the chaperon. Here's first chaperon without wire or veil under it and then with those. The effect isn't as pronounced as I would have hoped because the hood is too bulky, but there is an effect which is nice.

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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[mididressobsessed]

Source: modaoperandi.com

[mrskokushibo]

Warnings: Sex, Smut, NSFW, MDNI, 18+, Funny

Summary: It gets both steamy and funny when you manage to rile up Sanemi. And the man really has a short fuse. Modern AU.

A/N: For all you MHA fans, you are welcome to replace Sanemi with aged-up Bakugo. I can almost hear his voice in Sanemi's lines.

Masterlist

The afternoon was going well until you made the fatal decision to go to the arcade. It was ages since you both last been and the silly in you wanted to try if it was as much fun as you remembered it to be. At first, Sanemi was enjoying himself but very soon things went south. You were winning, time after time, beginner luck at first, but when your winning streak continued, he was no longer able to contain his frustration.

‘This shit is rigged. How the fuck can you be winning all the time?’

You laughed impulsively.

‘Seriously Nemi, how can it be rigged? Do you think I am in cahoots with the owner?’

Your grin became vicious and you lowered your voice into a conspiratorial whisper while leaning closer to him.

‘Maybe I slept with him to get ahead?’ You followed this with a wink.

He was not amused. He glared at you pursing his lips and continued the game.

‘Fuck. How do you do it?’ He almost growled out after losing yet again.

You shrugged and gave him an innocent but triumphant smile, and even did a little victory dance. And…you shouldn’t have.

‘Enough! We are going. This was not a good idea and I am not coming back here again.’

You giggled and put your hand into his as you began walking out of the noisy arcade.

The cool evening air and your mild hand softened his mood and by the time you came back home, he was seemingly fine. But, once on the sofa, his eyes flared up in vicious intent.

‘Let’s play Battlefield. I bet you can’t beat me there.’

It was his favourite online shooter that you only played a handful of times. You did not take to it and, to be honest, you weren't interested in gaming that much anyway.

‘Yeah, whatever. But don’t you just want to watch a movie and cuddle?’ You asked with a flirtatious smile.

‘We can do that later.’ He was already pulling out the controllers and logging in to the online portal.

He passed you the controller and a few moments later you were moving through a village in the middle of a desert, first-person view of your surroundings, trying to avoid or shoot the enemy. For each time Sanemi got shot and revived, you stayed alive and kicking. When you quickly glanced at him, his jaw was tensed and his eyes had that half-insane focused look in them.

‘Nemi, you are taking this far too seriously.’

‘This is serious.’ He barked out, which caused you to burst out laughing.

He paused the game and looked at you. A long, drawn-out, crazy stare. “If looks could kill” was probably the best description of what was being projected from his light-purple pupils.

‘Relax, babe.’ You put your hand on his thigh and began riding up to his groin. ‘Let me help you.’

You cooed and started rubbing him through his jeans, the bulge slowly growing from your treatment. He was alternating staring at you and down at your hand.

‘Do you really think I am some primitive gorilla that can be pacified with sex?’ He was seething with increasing irritation.

‘No, of course not, I don’t think that. Why would I?’ You cocked your head and smiled, biting your lip while continuing to rub his now quite prominent hardness.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Yes, fuck me, Nemi… ‘

This was followed by a moment of silence after which he suddenly growled quietly and flipped you over on your stomach.

‘Alright, I will fuck you. But don’t say you didn’t ask for it. Because I don’t intend on holding back.’

You bit your lip in anticipation. You liked it when he was rough, but it would probably piss him off even more to know that right now you wanted him to be exactly that, heavy-handed. So instead, you just lay still, tiny, pinching, shivers running down your spine as his hands touched your ass and began pulling up your skirt. 

His hand disappeared momentarily, and the sound of his zipper being pulled down sent even more electricity up your spine. He grunted as you could hear him get up and pull down his trousers. And then he was back at you, slapping your ass repeatedly, you moaning in response.

‘Now, bitch, I will show you who is boss here.’ He rubbed you to excessive wetness and began pressing his cock into you, without much consideration for positioning himself properly. He was too eager to be tough.

‘Nemi, that’s my other hole. You need to reposition.’

‘Argh! You don’t need to tell me what to do. I know what I am doing.’

He shifted and slammed into you, missing your opening entirely and burrowing himself into the sofa. He was so consumed with the combination of rage and arousal that he managed to give the sofa a few hard thrusts.

‘Babe, you are not inside.’

‘Stop talking. I know I am not.’

‘Should I assist you? In finding the hole? It’s like pinball, you know..’ You giggled. You could not help yourself to make the arcade allusion, because his reactions were simply too entertaining.

‘Do you think I’m funny, huh? Let’s see if you think this is funny then.’

This time around, he pumped his fingers into your pussy, positioned himself correctly, and slammed into you causing you to gasp.

 ‘How do you like this?’

‘I like it.’

His bare teeth were now grazing up your back and finished up on the side of your neck, the proximity of his warm, strong body causing you to clench a little extra. His breath was near your mouth and he hissed in a raspy voice:

‘Brace yourself, fuckdoll.’ You loved it when he called you that.

He kept his proximity to you and started to hammer his hips into the softness of your ass. You were a little shaken as his pace increased. Your breath started to sync with his thrusts, but he kept it up so fast you were left gasping for air. He pushed deeper and harder until you were whimpering from his force.

He then pushed the whole length of his cock into you, and you could feel the head pushing at your cervix. The pain and pleasure sent shivers throughout your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably now, and you could feel your pussy start to gush. He continued his thrusting as if you weren't even there. Your knees were about to buckle, but he pulled you up again by the waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and started his relentless thrusting once again.

You could barely breathe, and you were starting to see stars, the only sounds you could hear were your own heartbeat, his ragged breathing, and the sound of his cock driving into your soaked pussy. You started to lose consciousness, your vision narrowing to a point.

‘Nemi, I’m coming.’ You whimpered out as the familiar feeling of needing to pee was turning into a full-blown climax accompanied by your pussy gushing like a fountain.

As you slipped into a blissful abyss, his cock finally erupted and released the thick, white cum that had been building up. It coated your womb and dripped out onto the sofa. His breathing started to slow down, and he released his grip on your waist. Your legs gave out, and you slumped forward, resting your head on the soft cushions.

He grabbed his sweatshirt off the floor and cleaned himself and your leaking pussy. He then pulled you upright and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. You placed a hand on his head and caressed his hair.

‘Are you calm again now, my dear?’ You whispered into his ear.

‘I was never agitated. What are you implying? That I lost control?’ Irritation was beginning to simmer up in him again. You let out a giggle. You could feel him tense up behind you, and his hands went for your throat. You tried to get away, but his grip tightened.

'What's so funny, hmm?'

You struggled to get out a few words. 'Nemi...please.' You begged.

'Please what, slut?' He replied, his grip getting tighter.

Your head was going fuzzy again, but his grip was not tight enough to make you black out. He was not a monster, after all, and besides, you did enjoy it, your juices running down your leg from his grip on your delicate flesh. You felt his cock growing stiff again. He really was insatiable. He let go of your throat and turned you around. He sat down on the sofa and pulled you into his lap.

'Now, we need to get a few things straight, doll. If I am going to continue to put with you, then you are going to need to understand that I am the one in control here, do you understand?' This was his usual way of asserting himself, that never really worked on you other than make your pussy drip.

‘Just like you were in control of the game controllers just a moment ago?’ You giggled while grabbing his cock and lowering your full weight onto him.

He could no longer keep up the tough façade, the cracks showing by a playful spark appearing in his eyes. He laughed through closed lips and shrugged.

‘Yeah…just like that. Well, I guess we both know that you are the boss here, my kitten.’ He groaned as you began riding him. And this was the beginning of a long, adrenaline-fueled night filled with sensual and passionate sex. Lesson learned? Annoying Sanemi was well worth it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Hope I can make you laugh with this oldie but goodie. Imagine Bakugo instead of Nemi 😅 @doumadono @crystalwolfblog

[a-ikuoliver]

hiring you after a particularly tense night could either be the best decision endeavor ever made, or the worst.

pairing: enji todoroki x f!reader w/c: 2.7k warning/s:fem!reader, escort!reader, cheating, reader has hair out, finger sucking notes: sorry not sorry i just wanna be a rich mans toy; dialogue is a lil clunky my bad lmao

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

“so, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” despite the firepower of his quirk, the ice is thick between you, your teasing words hardly making a crack in the frigid surface. undeterred by it’s solidity, you make your way over to the hero, still seated at the desk on a chair that makes him seem more imposing than he is, his shoulders flaring past the edges of the high back, the only thing in the room that towers over his seated frame.

the expansive office isn’t enough for the both of you, the air already thick when you take another step closer, the heavy mahogany swinging shut behind you, latching into place with an echoing thud. still without a word, endeavor stares you down like he would a villain, watching your every move, every rise of your chest, the slow sway of your hips. his ears tingle hearing your sleek heels click along the hardwood floor, slow, calculated steps across the ice, no fear of falling when you venture further into the icy depths of the office.

crystal blue eyes trail over your body with every click, drinking in the sight of your tight, white blouse, the top three buttons undone to expose a sliver of your lacy bra, the skirt with a slit far too high on your thigh to be appropriate, your sheer black stay-ups that stop at your mid thigh, a peek of your garter poking from beneath your skirt to keep them up. his ears are ringing when his glare reaches your heels, unsure if it’s his blood rushing to his head, or the sound of you stepping over the rug echoing in his head.

the hero’s heart pumps in his chest incessantly, he can already see the headlines now, top hero hospitalised for cardiac event after inviting escort to his agency. your proximity might be a fate worse than death.

drawing his eyebrows down, he averts his eyes; it shouldn’t be this easy to work him up, you’ve just walked into his office and his mind is already wandering. and yet, when he slouches in the leather, he spots the dark red lace beneath your skirt, the minute layer of fabric doing nothing to hide your dizzying cunt. enji’s sure he’s pale as his head rolls back, the blood rushing from his head, swallowing hard, he wills himself to just relax. you weren’t a threat, you were a woman. so, why was his skin burning so damn hot?

slinking around the corner of his desk like a cat readying for a nap in the sunlight, your non-existent tail curls around his throat, bringing his attention back solely to you. perching yourself on the edge of his desk, shuffling back just enough until the bare skin of your thighs squishes against the cool surface, your position hiking your skirt higher on your limbs, even more so when you cross one leg over the other, pushing the fabric to your hips. he’d never admit it, but his cock jumps just watching you move, gliding over the slowly melting ice with a confidence that made his head feel like static the longer he stared.

your allure makes his head fuzzy, your little office getup flattering every curve and plain of your body; the cliche glasses perched on your nose working better for him than he’d thought. it only gets fuzzier taking you in, your exposed thighs, squishing around the elastic of your garter, the curve of your throat, the shape of your tits when you leaned closer, the colour of your lips. you study him through the glass, licking your lips just to watch him squirm, nearly drooling yourself at the flex of his thighs as he adjusts in the seat, his bulge more than enough evidence of everything he refused to say aloud.

despite calling you after a late patrol, heaving and panting down the line with his fat cock grasped in his hand, he never quite expected the follow through.

“i’ve never been inside the number ones office before,” his gaze is still glued to your thighs listening to you speak, the weight of your sultry gaze making him shift side to side again. quirking your head, your voice is low and even when you lean closer to question him, “what are you so nervous about, endeavor?”

it takes every ounce of his self control to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head at the sound of your purring voice, instead, he keeps his blue eyes trained on your sparkling, mischievous ones. even with his attempt to remain stoic, the glimmer in your eyes makes it abundantly clear you remember the low, gravelly tone of his voice when he’d called you, the addictive rumble in his throat as he’d all but groaned down the line, asking to see you. you didn’t bother to respond with your rates, you knew he’d pay from how fucked out he sounded.

“i’m not.” enji wordlessly thanks any god above that his voice is even, that he doesn’t choke on the words, even when you drift closer. your scent clouds his mind, he doesn’t know if it’s your perfume, or a quirk, but the smell sticks to the inside of his nose, melting into every wrinkle and ridge of his brain with every slow breath in. shaking his head doesn't quite clear his head. countless villains defeated by him, but a gorgeous escort clad in a tiny skirt was making him tremble, the pure lewdity of you draped on his desk dressed like that had his blood rushing to places it hadn’t been in years.

growing closer to the hero,his dick twitched like it did the night he called you, the fat tip of his cock starting to stick to his boxers when your lips brushed against the stubbled skin of his jaw in an addictive, barely-there touch, marring the skin with a line of dark lipstick from the corner of his lips to his ear.

“let’s get you more comfortable,” you purr in his ear, the sound waves sending jolts of electricity down his jaw, through the jugular in his throat, down his oesophagus into the depths of his stomach with a deep shudder. your head is just as foggy as his when you drop to your knees in front of him, the wet dream of the hulking hero falling apart at the seams when you’d hardly touched him, hadn’t done a thing to make him so clammy, to get him so worked up, to have his fists clenching at his sides. you hadn’t even looked at his fat cock yet, let alone touched it.

kneeling between his thighs, each wider than your head, you lift a heavy foot that’s nearly as long as your torso, setting his heel in your lap as he studies you like you’re alien; dark red eyebrows furrowing, wrinkling in the centre when you unzip the side of the boot, tugging the moulded lather off his foot. he can see down your thin shirt at this angle, his stormy eyes locked on the charm at the centre, hypnotised by the way it catches the light like a crystal sun catcher in the middle of july, his attention only drawn away from your chest when you tugged his other foot into your lap.

the longer you fiddled with his shoes, the more strung out he got, his tendons feeling like they were about to rip under his skin, his knuckles itching to reach for you, to tug at the flimsy buttons holding your shirt together until the stitches split, growing more and more desperate to bury his cock in your cunt. fuck, he nearly forgot how a warm, wet pussy felt gliding up and down his cock. his eyes fluttered shut, the relief of his boots slipping off his feet doing little to relax his wired body, especially the more he thought about how you’d look bouncing in his lap, still in that short, tight skirt, your pretty manicured fingers rubbing at your clit, your mascara smudging under your eyes when you came, how you’d moan his name when you ride him. would you shudder feeling him dip his head into your weeping cunt? would you ask him to go slow, shiver atop him sinking down his length? would you let him spill his seed in your cunt? or swallow all his cum while you lick him clean of your juices. biting his lip, he stifles a groan at the fantasy of your cheeks full of his cum, of it spilling over your perfect lips, dripping down your chin onto your chest, tainting your thin shirt.

—his eyes squeeze shut with a groan, a heavy hand rubbing at his lidded eyes, the pressure of his knuckles in the socket forcing the picture of you from his mind. he shouldn’t be doing this. he can’t do this. his cock is aching, he can’t be doing this, but fuck, he needs it.

“i can hear you thinking,” you study his face, taking in the bright topaz of his eyes, the indecision swirling in them, the jagged scar tearing through the left side of his face, leaving a gap in the hair on his jaw, the stubble spattered around the clear skin surrounding it, the start of a beard a red only a shade darker than the hair on his head. enji’s hand drops to his thigh, his bright aquamarine gaze meeting yours, the blue a deep navy in the shadows stretching over his face, somehow still glowing an electric blue despite the darkness beneath them, the weary lines that come with the job, and age. propping your chin on his knee, his head rolls back, the front of his boxers nearly wet from staring at you, the glittering of your eyes that looked like you were starstruck, the dark eyeliner smudged around your lash line that he desperately wanted to make run down your face, the creamy lipstick already starting to smear around your lip line, half of it still left on his cheek.

“i don’t know if i can do this…” running a hand through dark red hair, leaving it in spikes. even with his apprehension, he doesn’t stop you from dragging your fingertips over the hard muscle of his thighs, doesn’t jostle your chin from his knee, allowing you to slide your hand under the hem of his shirt to feel the heat of his bare abdomen.

“i..i’m married.”

there’s a flash across his face, a guilt, a worry. you we’re used to clients having… commitments, someone to go home to after you, although, this was the first time you’d seen a man so concerned about it, the morals of betraying his family, the morals of just thinking of you laid bare for him to lick, nip and suck as he pleased, to make your spine arch into him. he’s itching to have you melt on his tongue, on his fingers, fuck, the longer he ogles you, the more he thinks tarnishing his reputation might be worth it. your posture straightens, the hero doesn’t miss a single twitch in your muscles, waiting for you to stand, to storm out. instead, you hum, an amused sound from low in your throat, your hands sliding from beneath his shirt back down the length of his thighs.

light as a feather, your touch grazes his aching cock, his blood running hot through his veins to his crotch, like it was his own hellfire ablaze beneath your touch. it doesn’t cool when you reach for his left hand, tugging the limb easily into his lap, not a single one of his bulging muscles straining to stop your light touches on his skin. sparing a glance at him, you gently trace your fingertips over the cold gold of his ring, the metal dinged, scratched and worn smooth at the edges from years of marriage, decades even.

“i’m not trying to be your wife, endeavor,” your eyes shine looking up at him, “it’s cliche, but i’m anything you want; a lover, a girlfriend, a date— if you don’t wanna touch me,”

your pink tongue pokes out from between your lips when you trail off, slowly licking down the length of his finger. the digit’s calloused, thick from years of hero work, his skin hot in your mouth like a cookie was right out of the oven, when you were too impatient to let them cool, instead savouring the dough melting in your mouth. wrapping your lips around his finger, your eyes are still locked on his, hardly sucking at the digit when he breaks the eye contact, heavy eyelids fluttering shut with a deep groan at the sensation of your tongue and lips around the third knuckle. he sounded even better than he did down the phone; so gravelly, like the noise was alien to his vocal chords.

“then, you don’t have to touch me,”

neither of you have shed a single piece of clothing, he hasn’t even touched you, you’ve barely touched him, yet, his head rolls back when you moan around his finger, licking at his hand like you were trying to taste his leaking cock, your ministrations hardly helping the pre steadily dribbling from his tip. enji’s hips jump when your tongue dips in the webbing between his fingers, any apprehension melting inside him with every pulse of his echoing heartbeat, desperation thrumming in his veins, the need to feel your drool dripping down his cock, to feel the heat of your cunt beneath the red lace of your panties. he throbs with the need to sink into you, he’d fuck you on the floor of his office right now if it meant he could see your pretty pussy dripping with his cum. unfortunately, instead of your creamy slick gathering in his palm, sliding down to his wrist, it’s your saliva, drooling from your bottom lip onto his thick skin, dripping onto the front of his trousers to make a patch on the front mirroring the ever-growing one on his boxers.

“i won’t touch you unless you decide it,” your voice is like an angels chorus, even as devilishly sultry as it was.

“huh-i’m—” breathing heavily, enji’s voice is garbled, his mouth drawing into a tight line, every muscle in his body tensing when you bob your head, sucking his fingers deeper into your throat like you were trying to milk his dick. your hair falls onto your face when his hips jolt off the chair, his hips pushing his palm into your face, his ring finger pressing against the back of your tongue. his resolve is melting, his hips grinding shakily into the air the longer you sucked at his hand in his lap, your soft lips wrapping around the ring beneath his last knuckle, the sensation of your teeth against his skin forcing a rumbling groan from his chest. gold ring between your teeth, you sensually drag your tongue along the underside of his finger, setting every nerve on fire with the tip of your wet muscle fluttering against every ridge of his knuckles.

he’s fucking ruined above you, bulky thighs raising off of the office chair in search of your wet, hot mouth to release into, his hair sticking up in every direction from his fingers constantly tugging on the ends, the veins in his throat shining with sweat at every heavy thrum of his blood. with white knuckles, his abdomen tenses, every muscle in his body fighting against the urge to cum, to wait until he had you beneath him, on top of him, on his face would be less fucking shameful than making a mess of his boxers from a little pseudo-blowjob.

enji mumbles something, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to make any discernible words, especially not over the sound of your slurping at his fingers, he sounded more like he was huffing and grunting than speaking, the sound clawing itself out of his throat when his eyes screw shut, his muscles losing the fight to restrain himself.

shuddering, every solid muscle relaxes at once, the tension ebbing, melting from his veins into pleasure when his cum spits from his hot tip, sticking the front of his boxers to his cock.

his head drops back when you sit back up on your knees, his ring looped around the tip of your tongue, his finger falling from your mouth with an audible pop in the quiet room, the only sound his heavy breathing and the shuffle of your clothes as you adjust your position.

he can fucking hear the grin in your voice spotting the dark stain at the top hero’s crotch, “still worried about your marriage, endeavor?”

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[choerypetal]

Lace Skirt. / Mike Schmidt.

summary : mike had been in a lot of under pressure lately. he needed a distraction. a distraction you will never forget of.  warning: fluff – smut a little?? enjoy! 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺

Mike made a quick phone call, asking you to fetch his security jacket. His excuse? Claiming he was too fatigued to remember it. However, you were well aware that this was just a clever ruse to slip into the restaurant unnoticed using a straightforward yet highly effective code. With full knowledge of his true intentions, you couldn't help but stifle a chuckle on the other end of the line. In response, Mike subtly cautioned you to maintain a sense of "calm" to avoid raising any suspicion. This was one of the ways he enjoyed exerting control, a concept you'd previously touched upon when discussing "alphas."

While it might have come across as somewhat cringeworthy, Mike successfully conveyed your emotions and encouraged you to embrace your fantasies, especially when it had the potential to enhance the bond between you two. If there was one thing Mike despised above all else, it was the thought of losing you.  

Upon your arrival at the Pizzeria, you took a moment to ensure your attire remained impeccable and unblemished before stepping inside. In contrast, the establishment appeared somewhat lackluster and unwelcoming, which made you consider mentioning it to Mike beforehand. Just before entering, you swiftly retrieved your phone and sent Mike a brief text message, a playful reminder that read: "Hello, handsome. I've arrived. XO."

The "XOs" at the end of your message were unmistakably your signature when Mike felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, prompting him to grab it eagerly. Without any delay, he responded with a thumbs-up, signaling that the door was ready to swing open for you. In his subsequent text, he added, "I hope you wore that Lace skirt I adore."

Certainly, you complied with Mike's request. In fact, before entering the venue, you took care to adjust your skirt a bit lower to combat the cold that greeted you. This adjustment wasn't in your favor, as you had been specifically instructed to wear the shortest skirt possible, which meant enduring the chill and the eerie atmosphere of the place. Mike was clearly in control. Another notification beep sounded just before you tried to signal him poorly with the light from your phone, and you received a message that read, "Meet me in the monitoring room, on the left." 

Clear and efficient. You quickly managed to sneak in correctly with the directive Mike had gave you. Although the animatronics did scared you shitless, you were able to finally arrive in his office. Meaning you’d have to knock on the door, unless Mike was to busy focusing in his monitors, you though. Wrong. Mike had been waiting for you all along, especially when you heard the thick metal door opening. “Coming..” And a voice so familiar, it send shivers down your spine. 

Mike's voice was noticeably hoarse and deeper than usual, and as you approached him, you could see the redness under his eyes. Though it deeply concerned you, with the hope that he would soon find some rest, seeing him in such a state oddly ignited a desire within you for reasons you couldn't quite explain. With a subtle smirk, Mike observed you as you walked closer to him, his fingers revealing an eagerness to touch your skin. However, he wanted to examine something first. He said, "Spin for me, darling."

You obliged, and as you spun around, you felt the flare of your skirt gently brushing against your skin. There was an electric tension between the transparency of the fabric and the chill in the air, and amidst it all, you could have sworn that you caught Mike sneakily lowering his head to steal a glance. In response, you deliberately made the peek more noticeable, swirling a bit longer. In the process, you lost your balance, and your foot accidentally tripped on a cable. But Mike was quick to catch you, securing you in his lap as if it were a graceful rescue. His arms wrapped protectively around your waist, and he playfully remarked, "Seems like your coordination has improved."

"Shh..." You interrupted him with a hushed tone. "I brought your jacket as you requested. Should I...?" He silenced you with a gentle gesture, his fingers lightly brushing against your plush lips, eliciting an uncontrollable blush – a quality he adored about you. As you settled comfortably on his lap, arranging your legs with his, you couldn't help but notice a growing hardness between his thighs. You smirked innocently, hoping he wouldn't notice, and you caught a few muttered curses under his breath. 

While he attempted to conceal his desire, you seized the opportunity to speak for yourself. "Seems like someone is in the mood for a little teasing, huh?" Mike tilted his head, an intriguing glint in his eye, and he contradicted your observation when his fingers sensually trailed from your lips to your thighs. Just as casually, he lifted your skirt, leaning in to place a few tender kisses along your neck. "Well, look who's talking..."

At that instant, you became acutely aware that tonight, your mission was to divert Mike's attention. Regardless of the gravity of the situation, he had mastered your tactics and was keen on applying them beyond the confines of the room. His fingers firmly cupped your butt cheeks, prompting a surprised whimper to escape your lips as your eyes locked with his. With the most wicked smirk, he declared, "I'll make sure everyone knows you belong to me, my princess. I'll ensure it." 

[breannasfluff]

@meowmeowmeowmeow4x Hope you like it!

8. “Sibling A! Sibling B is throwing the kids in the pool!” Damian, Danny, mer au

“Danny! Todd is throwing everyone in the pool!” Damian stomps up to the halfa, swiping at the hat propped over his face. “Someone’s going to get hurt!”

Danny blinks at him, stretching in the sun. “Jason knows what he’s doing.”

“Todd has panic attacks when his head is covered in water.” His revival by Lazarus Pit left some scars. 

With a groan, Danny hauls himself out of his chair. “Just because I’m a mer doesn’t mean I always have to be on lifeguard duty. I just got nice and dry.” Still, he follows Damian back to the pool area. 

The pool area is huge. Father converted it to saltwater and expanded it when Danny joined the family. Damian would never say it out loud, but he’s a little jealous his older brother is a mer. 

Brown is currently shrieking up a storm as Todd hauls her to the edge of the pool. She’s flailing too hard for him to keep ahold of her and Damian doesn’t need to see the future to see how this is going to go. 

Brown slips out of Todd’s arms, still trying to hold on. Todd, without firm footing, tips with her and they both crash into the pool. 

Danny runs the few steps to the pool and dives in, legs transforming to a tail as he hits the water. His skirt, loose around human legs, is tight over his scales, but it protects his modesty when switching forms. 

The mer’s tail is a pearly white, almost translucent in the daylight. At night, Danny’s skin shifts to pure black, allowing him to stay hidden in the depths. Electric green can be flared as a threat response. He doesn’t look impressive in the daylight, which just leads people to underestimate him. 

Brown easily treads water, but Todd sinks, as expected. It only takes a few moments for Danny to dip down and wrap his arms around the bigger boy, pulling him to the surface. He breaks with a gasp, flailing in Danny’s grip. 

Rather than deliver them to the edge of the pool and let Todd escape, Danny goes for the raised rock grotto in the middle of the pool.

“What the hell!” Jason hauls himself onto the low shelf at water level, shaking his curls and sending water flying.

Danny giggles and coils in the water, flicking his fin idly. “That’s what you get for throwing people in my pool.”

“It’s everyone’s pool, dumbass.”

Danny leaves him there, minorly stranded, and swims back to the edge where Damian still stands. “Come swim with us?”

Well…it is rather warm out. The water looks inviting. And maybe, possibly, Damian enjoys swimming with his mer brother. 

“Fine, if you insist.” He makes a big show of shedding his t-shirt, but the fact that he’s already in swim trunks gives it away. 

The water is pleasantly cool on his skin. Scales and slime rub against his leg and he barely manages to keep from kicking out. It’s just Danny. 

His older brother grabs his wrist, towing him deeper into the pool. Brown joins Todd on the rock grotto and they watch as Damian is pulled under the water. He doesn’t struggle, Danny won’t let him come to harm. 

The mer settles to the bottom of the pool, tail kicking up the sand that lines it. Damian swims down near him, hands moving continuously to keep from rising. It’s not fair that mers can control their buoyancy. And breathe underwater. 

Then Danny fits his hands under Damian’s feet and pushes up. They rocket up and out of the water, the momentum letting Damian do a flip in the air before diving back down. He bursts back up, laughing. 

Danny circles below his legs before breaching in an arc of his own. He slaps his tail as he comes down, sending water spraying onto Todd and Brown, who squawk from their spot on the rock. 

It’s a good afternoon.

[comfortless]

I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

[sarawritestories]

My Wife

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: You are excited to walk down the aisle to see your mate

Content Warning: none!

A/N: As you are all reading this, I will be getting married! Nothing feels better than to celebrate with you all with a fic celebrating my favorite bat! With a surprise at the bottom

Dividers: @tsunami-of-tears

"You ready?" Rhysand whispered as the music changed and the scraping of chairs as guests began to rise.

The doors opened, and your eyes immediately found the Hazel eyes. The warmth settled against your bones as you looked on to your mate, waiting for you at the end of the aisle. The illyrian general gave up his leathers for a suit and tie. Cassian's smile took your breath away, his hair pulled halfway up. A beard covering his tanned face. The sole siphon glistened against his chest.

"Yes, I'm ready!" You looked over at Rhys and his extended arm and gripped your hand against the muscle of his bicep. "Thank you for giving me away."

"Anything for you, Darling." Rhys kissed your cheek before leading you down to your mate.

Cassian's breath hitched at the sight of you on Rhysand's arm. The white gown with the lace off the shoulder sleeve, sweetheart neckline, and skirts flaring down past your hips. Red flowers in your hand and a replica of his siphon pinned into your hair. Your eyes were glowing, and he could feel your excitement down the bond matching his own. His heart was thundering, and he felt a cool whisp against his hand.

"Here is your, girl." Azriel whispered, slapping a hand between his wings.

Cassian felt the tears line his eyes as you approached. Rhysand smiled at his best friend, his general, his brother as he handed you off to Cassian, his calloused fingers clasping around yours.

Cassian couldn't help but gaze at your smile before reaching your eyes. He squeezed your hand, "Hi." He whispered.

"Hi." You whispered back the grin, never wavering.

The General pressed his forehead to yours, "You look breathtaking, Sweetheart."

"So do you."

"Let's do this, Baby."

The ceremony was a perfect blend of Illyrian tradition and traditions of the night court. Red ribbon tied between your entwined hands. "Cassian, kiss your mate, and your new wife."

Cassian cupped your face in his palm, "About time." He muttered as he pressed his lips to yours. Butterflies flutter in your stomach from the kiss as though it was the first time. He pulled away, and your eyes slowly opened to meet his warm hazel eyes. "My beautiful, sweet wife." His mouth hovered over yours. "My wife." And he kissed you once more.

This is technically to go with my Unwavering Presence series, but @dawneternal gave me a beautiful depiction of my favorite general and my strong reader whose love for her Illyrian is as strong as the love for my future husband.

Love you all!

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

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