#costume black trench

[ded-and-gonne]

[ded-and-gonne]

Not one but two finger guns. 👈🧔🏻‍♀️👉 Allegedly.

Cosplay comparison! ♥ Klaus Hargreeves - Umbrella Academy!

[trustedealcosplayandcostume]

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚Black Butler Kuroshitsuji Ciel Phantomhive Houndstooth Trench Coat Cosplay Costume available at Trustedeal.com

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚ Link to costume->https://www.trustedeal.com/Black-Butler-Kuroshitsuji-Ciel-Phantomhive-Houndstooth-Trench-Coat-Cosplay-Costume-p1977448.html

[queen-of-meows]

If you guys need a reminder that fake leather sucks, here's a very annoying thing that happened to me today. I was going through my cosplay closet and found out my Mami Tomoe cosplay I made 8 years ago just decomposed. The whole skai part of it had turned into plastic flakes.

My first reaction was to throw the whole thing away, but I ended up changing my mind and I'm going to replace the rotten parts with better fabric (probably cotton).

[reyenii]

since edwin is very closed off, except for when he’s with his best friend, charles, costume designer kelli dunsmore reflected his buttoned-up mentality through his bespoke suit, complete with bowtie and collar. edwin’s outfit, along with charles’ period garb, were designed to help them stand out more in modern day port townsend. “i knew edwin would, because no one dresses like that now,” says dunsmore.

dunsmore wanted everything about charles to feel “a little bit cool and underground,” from his union jack and the who bull’s-eye patches to his checkerboard pins. his little cross earring and chain on the outside of his shirt are also meant to be homages to the ’80s.

in the show, crystal’s hero color is purple, which you’ll notice in her velvet coat and long silk letterman jacket, which dunsmore thought of as a psychic cloak with hand-embroidered patches, including the wilting rose of england.

her brown trench coat represents an explosion of everything going on in her mind. dunsmore decided the scribbled words and drawings are a result of crystal writing all over it to express her inner turmoil. there are even lyrics on there from the song she’s listening to on the tube when she meets the dead boys.

david’s connection with crystal seeps into her wardrobe, too. since david wears a flower shirt, dunsmore’s team hand-painted flowers onto crystal’s black boots. and niko is wearing a dark sweater with flowers on it when we first meet her, as an homage to crystal. the costume department also drew the same rune pattern the dead boys use to exorcise david in episode 1 onto crystal’s trench coat and on the tab of her wool bomber jacket. “so she’s always got some sort of protection,” says dunmore.

every color niko wears is inspired by what’s happening in that episode, from the green post-sprite exodus to blue when she’s feeling sad. niko only wears a white look, with nods to her japanese heritage, in the finale as a reset. the charms on her obi belt represent the colors she’s worn all season.

night nurse is someone who’s in control all the time and likes things to be in their proper place. dunsmore looked to vivienne westwood for inspiration, since everything in night nurse’s world is a bit exaggerated. (by the way, niko’s orange monochromatic look is a nod to her scenes with night nurse and night nurse’s red hair.)

since david is a demon, he finds a london boy that looks cool enough for crystal to find attractive. that meant dunsmore dressing him in a shearling jacket you’d find in “all the guy ritchie movies,” black pants and creeper shoes. the costumer’s mood board for “david the d” featured radiohead and amy winehouse and her husband blake, who often wore hats similar to the one you see david wearing in the show.

pay close attention to monty’s leather jacket and you just might spot an inlaid crow feather or two.

it’s not only esther who wears clothes with a gilt, old-gold color — cat king and night nurse also do as a nod to their villainy. (esther and cat king also have similar fur coats.) amidst her beauty, dunsmore wanted esther to be a little rough around the edges. she wears a cuff around her hand that’s adorned with a snake and a ring with teeth all around it to represent the teeth she’s collecting from all the little girls. her eye necklace is meant to be her witch pendant.

mischievous as ever, cat king has (cat) eyes everywhere and is aware of edwin’s affection for charles. so he wears charles’ socks the first time he meets edwin.

[luffington]

nurse's office ♡

➤ summary: Even doctors need check-ups, so you indulge your boyfriend and put on a sexy nurse costume. (18+)

➤ pairing: trafalgar law x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.1k

➤ warnings: switch!law, modern AU, nurse-patient roleplay, praise kink, established relationship, fluff, silly porn dialogue, fem reader

➤ notes: i LOVE law with all my heart but i have such a hard time writing him.... hopefully this turned out okay and it's accurate to his character :')

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

When you returned to your apartment after work, the lights were on and a familiar black trench coat hung in the entrance, but the coat’s owner was nowhere in sight. You called his name as you slipped off your shoes and received no response. 

A muffled noise coming from your shared bedroom caught your attention.

Curious, you crept through the living room and creaked open the door just enough to slip inside. Law sat at his desk in the dark with his back turned away from you. Completely focused on his dimmed laptop screen with headphones plugged in and unaware of your presence. A smile spread across your face when you noticed what he was watching.

A busty brunette woman in an incredibly cliché nurse outfit batted her fake eyelashes at the camera as she deep-throated her patient’s dick. Your boyfriend’s inked hand rose up and down his own cock, eyes half-lidded and biting his lip to attempt to stifle his throaty groans. When you were literally right behind him, you leaned over his shoulder to read the video title out loud. “‘The Best Prescription In Town Is A Dose Of This Naughty Nurse’s Pussy’?”

Law’s entire body went cold.

“I-It’s not what it looks like!” He panicked, whipping his head towards you and accidentally ripping his headphones cord out of the jack. Exaggerated and unrealistic slurping sounds, accompanied by the male actor’s moans, started playing at full volume. Law forgot how his typically agile fingers worked as he rushed to pause the video. He was ready to diagnose himself with a heart attack.

Your eyes flickered to the bottle of lube and box of tissues beside his laptop. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“No, I…” Embarrassment flooded his veins and he scrambled for a logical explanation. You were clearly amused instead of upset, but that didn’t deter him. Steeling his nerves, your boyfriend cleared his throat and prayed his voice didn’t shake. “I wanted to see how accurate this was, but it’s a disgusting mockery of nurses. This is completely inappropriate in a real hospital.”

“Well, duh,” you chuckled and rolled your eyes. You leaned closer to study the other tabs open in his incognito mode browser. One search for ‘hot nurse’ and another for ‘nurse fucks patient’. A second video titled ‘Nursing Student Gives Penis Exam’. A spark ignited in you. “Law, is this what you’re into?”

He stayed silent and let his head fall down in shame – which only directed your gaze to his quickly softening dick – as he mumbled a timid apology.

“Oh, baby, you have nothing to apologize for.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nuzzled against his neck. “Please don’t be embarrassed, I genuinely wanna know what turns you on. I won’t judge, I promise.”

“You’re prettier than everyone in these videos,” was his only response. He was such a sweetheart without even trying. 

Even though you’d been together for quite a while, Law still had a hard time discussing his kinks. The man had a neurotic need to protect his innermost thoughts and thick iron walls guarding every part of his mind. It took a lot of time and patience, but you’d managed to break down most of his barriers. You wanted him to trust you and feel comfortable around you; having fun in the bedroom was just a bonus. 

Pressing your lips to his ear, you teasingly whispered, “I can buy a nurse costume, you know.”

“Huh? Are you serious?!” Wide gray eyes met yours, a flurry of emotions overtaking his stressed-out expression.

“Of course! I’ll look for a cute one right now.” You pulled out your phone, pausing before opening your browser to bat your eyelashes and say, “Only if you want me to.”

“I – I…” Law fumbled for words, unable to keep up with the thoughts racing through his brain. After a moment of hesitation, he licked his dry lips and hastily leaned over to look at your screen. “Let me see the options.”

The costume was set to arrive in 3-4 business days, which gave you and Law plenty of time to talk and plan. Both of you discussed what you wanted out of the scenario and what you each felt comfortable doing. You promised Law you’d do actual research by watching nurse pornos in order to imitate them, and he swore to never correct you mid-scene with his accurate medical knowledge. 

His steely eyes lit up when he spoke and made your heart flutter with love. As an accomplished surgeon, he took care of countless patients every day – of course he wanted someone to do the same for him. Nothing was sexier than seeing Law turn to putty in your hands, happily melting into your protection.

The fateful night arrived with a flimsy package at your front door.

Law sat on the couch in the ‘waiting room’ (also known as the living room), anxiously rubbing the letters tattooed on his knuckles and bouncing his legs. His throat was parched, his heart was racing, and his dick was already getting hard.

His jaw dropped when you opened the bedroom door – no, your office. The tight white dress hugged your body perfectly, accentuating all of your best features. Firetruck red stripes lined the sleeves and collar, and a prominent zipper ran all the way down the front. Your boobs were spilling out of the low-cut top and the skirt barely covered your upper thighs. A dainty white hat sat atop your head, sporting a white cross in a red circle that matched the one on your breast pocket. The look was complete with thigh-high white stockings, lacy crimson lingerie, Law’s real stethoscope around your neck, and a notebook and pen in your hand.

“Trafalgar Law?” You called out coquettishly.

His excited cock tried to answer for him, but he took a deep breath and nodded. “T-That’s me.”

With an overly sweet grin, you beckoned him into the room. “It’s time for your appointment. Follow me.” 

Previously arranged pillows on the bed mimicked the half-upright position of a medical chair. Law couldn’t look away from you as he shuffled towards his ‘exam table’, sitting down so his legs hung off the edge. You placed a gentle hand under his scruffy chin, his gaze flickering between your face and your tits. 

“Now, what seems to be the problem?”

Law didn’t have the confidence (nor the acting ability) to answer ‘my dick’ the way a pornstar would. So he settled for, “I’m not sure, miss. Maybe… give me a physical?”

“Ooh, a full body inspection,” you giggled, putting on a pair of hospital-grade latex gloves. “Please remove your shirt and lie on your back.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Only my shirt?”

Biting back a laugh, you responded, “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?” 

Your boyfriend nodded obediently, neatly folding his canary yellow t-shirt beside him on the bed. It didn’t matter how often you saw his heavily tattooed chest – you were in awe of it every time. You opened your notebook, humming in mock contemplation and scribbling nonsense on a blank page in an imitation of Law’s terrible doctor handwriting. He tried to peek at what you were doing, but you quickly shut the cover. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you,” you cooed with a gentle smile and ruffled his hair.

He apologized curtly and settled back into a comfortable reclined position. Running your fingers along his jawline, you trailed your touch down the column of his throat and across his collarbones. Gently massaging his shoulders and feeling the tense muscles loosen as he let out a content sigh. You were unable to resist tracing the massive inked heart on his torso as you’d done so many times, lightly trailing your pointer finger across its flames and swirls and sending pleasant tingles throughout his body.

Repeating the action on his matching bicep tattoos, you cheekily stated, “Such strong muscles. Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.”

He chuckled, finally beginning to relax into his role. “You have no idea.”

“Let me check your heartbeat.” Not even bothering to put the stethoscope in your ears, you ran the cold chestpiece against Law’s nipples, forcing a pretty hiss from his lips. Rubbing circles atop them until both were stiff peaks, then teasingly rolling them between your fingertips until he was flushed and panting. 

Satisfied with his worked-up state, you pulled away to write more nonsense in the notebook. Your boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows. “Seriously, what the hell are you writing?”

“Please let me do my job, Mr. Trafalgar.” You firmly smacked the end of your pen against one of his nipples. The sudden display of authority made his cock twitch. 

You caressed his defined abdomen muscles, moving lower down his gorgeous body and brushed over his dark happy trail. 

“Your chest seems fine, which means…” You trailed off and tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. Law’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed in anticipation, lifting his hips to help you slide down his sweats and boxers underneath. 

His rock-hard dick sprung free gratefully, angry red and twitching in excitement. You’d never seen him get this worked up so quickly – it made your cunt ache.

“Well, this is clearly the issue! Poor thing, you must feel so lightheaded from all the blood flowing down here.” You cooed, wiping his dark bangs away from his eyes in mock comfort. “I have to relieve this pressure or else the swelling won’t go down.”

“H-How will you–“ Law’s cheeky question was cut off by a groan when you curled your fingers around the thick base of his cock. Just one stroke pushed out several beads of pearly precum from his pretty tip. The synthetic softness of latex gloves felt strange against such a sensitive part of him, but it made the scenario extra immersive. 

“I need to milk you dry. Is that okay with you, Mr. Trafalgar?” 

Law nodded eagerly, too overstimulated to consent with words. He’d heard that phrase so many times in his videos. Your chest swelled with pride as you admired his submissive state. It wasn’t easy for your boyfriend to relinquish control to you during sex – no matter how much he wanted to – but he looked like he would die for you at that moment. 

You swung your leg over his body to straddle his upper thighs, cunt inches away from where he needed it. The movement caused your skirt to ride up and reveal a peek of your lacy panties. Law gulped when he noticed your soft thighs bulging around the elastic band of your stockings. 

Using both hands, you began to jerk him off with slow and deliberate movements. Dragging your palms from the base to the head with the perfect amount of pressure, making sure to trace the sensitive vein on the underside. A steady stream of translucent fluid dribbled out, the length pulsing and begging for more in your grasp. You paused to spit on his tip for added lubrication and rubbed it into his heated skin. 

Law was glad you were fixated on his cock rather than his face. He knew he looked pathetic. Barely three minutes had passed and he was embarrassingly close to cumming (though he was proud of himself for not bursting in his pants the moment you emerged in your costume). His abdomen muscles were wound tight and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Steely gray eyes never left your body, your hands, almost too afraid to blink. 

When you fondled his heavy balls, his orgasm hit him like a truck. Law threw his head against the pillow and cried out, painting white streaks across your baby blue gloves. You grinned watching your boyfriend heaving for air, finally meeting his gaze when you swiped your tongue across a thick glob of cum on your thumb. He watched dazedly as you wiped the rest of his spend off on your skirt, then tossed your dirty gloves on the floor. 

“Perfect! The swelling went down,” you grinned slyly and added, “but it might come back.”

“Oh, it’s definitely coming back.” 

Law grabbed your waist and quickly flipped your positions, pinning you underneath him by sitting on your hips. Holding your wrists above your head in one hand and using the other to cup your jaw, he pressed his lips against yours in a wet and messy kiss. You whined as he shoved his tongue down your throat, eagerly devouring your mouth. 

“M-Mr. Trafalgar, this is very unprofessional…” Weakly faking a struggle against his grasp, whining when it only got tighter.

“I gotta self-medicate now, miss, or I’ll never get better.” Your boyfriend kissed his way down your sternum, tugging down the zipper of your costume just enough to reveal your chest. He groaned at the sight of your vivid red bra. “Fuck, what a uniform.”

While mouthing at the swell of your breasts, your boyfriend stroked himself to full hardness – which didn’t take long. Desire was overtaking his mind and turning his vision hazy. He might actually have a medical issue if he didn’t fuck you immediately. 

Law slipped his hand between your legs and snickered at the wetness soaked through your panties. Pushing the fabric to the side, he unceremoniously thrust his E and A fingers in your cunt. Those skilled digits pushed and prodded inside you, a grin spreading across his face when he heard the sinful squelch of your drenched walls. 

“Naughty nurse,” he chuckled teasingly, gray eyes burning holes into your own when he sucked his sticky fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste.

“I’m not naughty,” you pouted. “My job is to make patients feel better, and this is helping, right?”

“Shit, yeah, you just might cure me.” 

Law tapped your inner thighs and you spread them willingly, unsurprised when he chose to shove your panties to the side and keep the costume intact. He pressed his swollen mushroom tip against your leaking entrance. With freed wrists, you gripped the bedsheets, heart racing and pussy throbbing. 

Rather than fulfilling both of your desires, your boyfriend paused in thought. “Hold on, what did you diagnose me with?”

You shrugged and defaulted to something you heard in a porno. “Big dick disorder?”

Law fought against every well-educated neuron in his brain begging to correct you. He took a deep breath and let out an exaggerated exhale, but smirked proudly. “I’ll accept it.”

His cock slammed into you and knocked all the air from your lungs. Bottoming out with a groan, he paused to lean back and admire your outfit, feeling his cock get impossibly harder inside your cunt. Fucking a fantasy nurse was a deep-rooted desire of his, and he was amazed and incredibly grateful that he was able to act it out with you. 

“Is this the right way to treat my illness?” Smugly punctuating his words with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock kissing the tip of your womb. You’d never seen him so talkative in bed.

“M-move faster… it’ll be more effective.”

“Okay. I trust you, miss nurse.” Law whispered seductively in your ear. His beard tickled your skin when he nipped at a soft spot of your neck. 

Setting a brutal pace, he pistoned his cock in and out, balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. Messy wet sounds filled the room – your cunt gushing and your tongues desperately sliding against each other. Law typically limited his vocal expressions of pleasure to grunts and soft groans, but something in him had clearly snapped. He had no issue throwing his head back and moaning unashamedly, interweaving spat curse words and praises of your body. 

He sucked on your tongue while switching his hip movements to a slow grind, his dick fully sheathed and rubbing against every delicate inch of your cunt. 

“T-Traf… oh, fuck, Law.” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you tangled your fingers in his messy black hair and held onto it for dear life. He swallowed the string of saliva connecting your lips with a playful grin.

Shifting your position into a mating press, you locked your stocking-clad knees around his shoulders. His rough pace resumed, cock reaching impossibly deeper inside you, bullying your cervix with every thrust. Your body rocked back and forth on the shaking mattress. Every movement caused your hat to press against the pillow and reminded you of your costume – no, your role.

“Good girl,” Law panted, pupils blown wide with pleasure. “Taking care of me so well with your pretty pussy.”

You whined needily, feeling your core tighten. “I’m s-so close, baby,” 

A sharp slap came down on your tit. Law’s eyes narrowed. “Be professional.” 

Despite his strict command, he rewarded you by pressing and flicking his thumb against your neglected clit. You bucked your hips into his touch desperately, grinding the sensitive nub on his calloused finger.

You threw your head backwards, arched off the bed and came with a cry of, “Mr. Trafalgar!” Arms wrapped around his back, legs pulling him in even tighter as your pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, flooding over you in a bright white light. 

“Naughty fucking nurse.” Your boyfriend growled with a pleased smirk. Hot cum coated your walls as Law let out a deep moan, your cunt eagerly milking every last drop. Your boyfriend kissed you deeply until the aftershocks of both of your orgasms had subsided.

He collapsed on top of you, both of your chests heaving against each other as you struggled to catch your breath. Releasing your tight grip on his shoulders, you lovingly rubbed the giant skull tattoo on his upper back. 

“Thank you, miss. I’m cured.” Law mumbled happily, kissing your cheek. 

You frowned. “You are? After one round?”

“Oh.” That certainly wouldn’t be a satisfying ending to his appointment. “Um… No, I’m still very, very sick.” He followed it up with a fake cough. Not exactly a symptom of having a big dick, but whatever. 

Deciding to give your overwhelmed boyfriend a break, you took control of the situation again.

“I’m not sure how much medical knowledge you have, Mr. Trafalgar, but I have an ache in my chest.” You reached between your bodies to innocently spread your unzipped dress even more, pushing out your tits. “Mind checking it out for me?”

Law pushed up the cups of your bra without a second thought, groping your soft flesh with large palms. “I’ll see what I can do.”

[zylev-blog]

Danny is Jon Kent.

Danny was in English class when it happened. A portal opened under his desk and he fell into it, desk and all. When he was able to get his bearings of whatever he’d been dropped into, he was considering going ghost, but something deep inside of him told him to wait and watch. That his ghost half wasn’t needed yet. So he did.

He looked around. He noticed a teenager, around his age, that was dressed in a gray, black and red costume with a R on the chest, who was standing next to a blonde guy in a long trench coat.

“There you go, Batbrat. One Jon Kent for ya. Don’t kill this one, eh?” Constantine winked and teleported out of the room after clapping the ‘Batbrat’ on the shoulder.

The teen turned to him, walking over slowly. Danny was unnerved. He didn’t know who ‘Jon Kent’ was, or why he was summoned, but he didn’t want to have to defend himself with his English final and a pencil. He pulled the hidden Fentonbat from his pocket and extended it, aiming it at the teen.

“Don’t come any closer.” Danny hissed, “Who are you and why was I summoned here?”

The teen tilted his head. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?” He kept the bat steady in his hands, but he doubted that it would do much against the teen. Something in him told him that the teen was more highly trained than he was and that he could decimate him without any effort.

The teen reached up and pulled the mask off of his face, looking slightly hopeful. “My name is Damian Wayne.” The teen looked him up and down, “The Jon Kent of my world is dead and you will take his place.”

“Alright, look, uh—Damian, was it? First off, I’m not Jon Kent, don’t even know who that is. Second off, I’m not taking some dead teens place. No way. That’s just creepy and it’s not happening.”

He was starting to get creepy vibes from Damian, and the only other person that creeped him out like this was Vlad, and Vlad was… well, Vlad.

“The world is in danger. Superman is going mad with his grief. He needs his son.” Damian looked into his eyes, “And I need my best friend back.”

“That’s a whole lot of nope from me.” He backed away, but found himself with the desk blocking his retreat. “Look, I’m honored but uh, my sister will get worried if I don’t come home and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“You don’t have a sister.” Damian took a few steps forward.

He stepped around the desk and kept it between him and Damian. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t know who Jon Kent is! My name is Danny! Danny Fenton! And for once in my life, can you please send me back to school so I can take my English test?”

“I thought we would be friends in every universe.” Damian mumbled, “But I guess I was wrong.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Uh, quick idea, sending me home sounds fantastic.”

“The world needs you, Jon. I need you.” Damian frowned, “But if you won’t go willingly, I will force you.”

Loosing his temper, he spat: “I’m not Jon, you arrogant ass—“

He was cut off when he saw Damian pull a glowing green rock from his pocket. Instantly, Danny fell to his knees, dragging the desk down with him as he fell. He clutched his chest, making it feel like it was hard to breathe. He lost unconsciousness.

[yes-divine-ruler]

(18+!!) ok wait so… It’s Halloween… you’re out with Tate… he can’t keep it together because your costume makes him horny.

Tate holds your hand tightly as you both venture down the sidewalk. His costume is eerily familiar. He wears a long, black trench coat and his face had been painted in likeness to a skeleton. His blonde, usually curly, hair is slicked back out of his face. His grip on your hand tightens as you pass by other people your age, some shamelessly taking in the appearance of your revealing costume. Much to Tate’s annoyance, you insisted that Halloween was the one time of year you had an excuse to dress like you were begging for it. The delicate lace that decorates your cleavage distracts Tate more than once. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans just from lingering beside you. At times, he takes a moment to trail behind you to catch a glimpse of the mounded flesh of your ass cheeks from under your tiny skirt. You know what his game is, of course, and occasionally brush the back of your hand across the front of his jeans. Tate doesn’t take to it lightly, and after teasing him for the forth, and final, time, he has no choice but to trap you behind a big, oak tree in the park and bend you over. His fingers make quick work of your panties, tugging the thin, soaked piece of fabric down your long legs. Your ass jiggles around his hand as he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them upwards to press against your sweet spot. “Thought you could tease me and get away with it? In that little, slutty costume?” He mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear, tickling his nose with the freshly-washed hair on the side of your head. You smelt like vanilla, and a hint of coconut. A sweet and sensual scent that had Tate moaning softly against you. Tate spits, directly onto your needy cunt, using his fingertips to spread the saliva over your pulsing clit. “Tate, please, I need you inside me,” you plead, reaching around to grasp onto his throbbing cock, sure to be staining his boxers with smears of pre-cum. Tate unveils his rock-hard length, stroking it with a mix of your arousal and his saliva. He teases you, circling your entrance with the leaking tip of his cock. Caving to his own eagerness, it’s not long before Tate is stretching you out with his girth. Your fingernails dig into the flaking bark of the tree, trying your hardest to find the leverage you need to soften each ravaging thrust. Soft whimpers turn into loud, destitute moans. Tate’s hand wraps around your mouth to stop the ruckus you’re making in an attempt to shield you from the eyes of passer-byers. “That’s it baby, take my fucking cock. You love how it fills you to the fucking brim, don’t you?” Tate’s grip on you only get tighter as he slams into your poor, little cunt, using it to alleviate his painful desire for you. Stars appear behind your closed eyelids when Tate’s free hand slithers down between your body and the trunk of the tree to stimulate your swollen clit. “Uh fuck- can feel you squeezing tight around me, let up sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum,” Tate seethes behind clenched teeth, the lewd, squelching sounds each thrust pulls from your dripping cunt pushing you both a step towards release. It’s not long before the intense pleasure of Tate’s tip nudging against your sweet spot sends you over the edge. Tate holds you up as your orgasm washes over you in big, tremulous waves. Tate growls into your hair, a few last thrust just enough for him to let go inside of your clenching walls. When he pulls out, he’s quick to pull up your panties, rubbing over the cloth to make sure his cum stays with you. “You’re gonna walk around the rest of the night with these soaking wet panties. And I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You little tease.” He tucks himself away, and taking a hold of your hand again, he begins to pace down the sidewalk like nothing happened. Even though, you can barely stand on your two feet from how weak your legs are now.

[lupinsversion]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 - 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬

• summary: reader forces remus to do a couples costume for a halloween party.

• a/n: okay but remus as beast boy??? also, almost forgot to post today whoops. but starting on nov first, i’m going to slow my posting down due to holidays approaching and i have a trip i need to plan for.

• contains: remus lupin x fem reader, established relationship, fluff, couple costumes, modern au so the costumes will make sense lol

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

October, the best month of the year for parties in the Gryffindor common room with Halloween right around the corner. Originally this party idea came straight from Sirius and James, and must to Remus’ dislike, she was forcing him into a couples costume.

Now, she tried to keep it simple… at least on his part. Beast Boy and Raven. He wouldn’t need much, just a pair of Sirius’ black jeans that barely fit him, James’ black hoodie with a purple t-shirt thrown over it. But the worst part was trying to get his face painted an olive green color, and spray his hair with some temporary color.

That leads them to now. She already did her makeup and placed the short purple wig perfectly on her head. She wasn’t fully dressed yet, just wearing her fishnet stockings with some random articles of clothing over it until she was ready to put on the rest of her costume. She held Remus’ chin as he sat, brushing some of the color evenly over his face.

Remus sat there, clearly unhappy with the whole situation. He felt absolutely ridiculous and was sure that he looked so dumb with green paint all over his face. James and Sirius were standing nearby, giggling and commenting on how ridiculous he looked, and Remus wasn’t having it. He sighed heavily and shut his eyes as she held his chin. "Did you have to choose Beast Boy?" He whined, slightly grumpy.

“I thought it was fitting.” She teased, a small hint of a smile on her face. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

"It could have been a lot better too." He continued to whine and complain. His green face was a clear example of how disgruntled he felt, though he was secretly glad to be matched with Raven. The choice could have indeed been worse, but it was still far from his favorite option.

“Oh, shush… and stop moving, I’m almost done.” She grumbled as she continued to spread the green color onto his cheeks.

He grudgingly complied, ceasing his fidgeting and letting her work. He knew that no amount of whining or complaining would be able to change her mind, and he wasn’t really going to protest against her. His eyes scanned her fishnet stockings, admiring the outfit she had chosen.

“Stop being so grumpy, you’re not the only green haired man tonight… look at James.” She commented as Lily was currently spraying James’ messy trenches a brighter shade of green for their matching costumes of Cosmo and Wanda.

He couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle at the sight of James, looking all goofy with bright green hair. "Alright, I suppose it could be worse.” He admitted, finally complying and allowing her to continue painting his face.

“Or you could’ve been Sirius and be barnacle man.” She mused.

Remus grimaced at the thought, shuddering slightly. "Alright, alright, I concede. Beast Boy isn't so bad after all. I'll stop being grumpy, I promise." He chuckled lightly, finally giving in to the whole costume theme.

“Thank you.” She cooed before pecking his lips quickly once she finished.

He smiled softly as she pecked his lips, feeling his annoyance melt away at her light touch. Though he wasn't entirely on board with the costume idea, the simple peck made him realize he just wanted to have a fun night with her and the rest of their friends.

“I’m going to go get dressed, and I swear for the life of me… do not, and I mean do not, mess your look up.”

He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "I wasn't going to." He replied with a hint of feigned indignation. "I'll be right here when you get back, just go and get ready." He waved his hand in the air, shooing her away.

She walked towards the bathroom, but not going in without a look that screamed ‘I’m watching you.’

He couldn't help but chuckle at her disapproving look, knowing she was keeping an eye on him. Once she disappeared into the bathroom, Remus shook his head with a small smile. He took one look at himself in the mirror and made a face, still somewhat unsatisfied with his appearance.

“Hey, Prongs, do you think I look stupid?” Remus asked, suddenly concerned about his costume. James looked up from his own green-colored hair and let out a small chuckle. “You look okay, Moony. Just embrace your inner beast.” He responded jokingly, teasingly patting Remus on the head.

James’ cheeky grin did little to alleviate Remus’ concern about his appearance.

But Sirius, ever the prankster, couldn’t resist joining in on the fun. He approached Remus playfully and looked him up and down, pretending to scrutinize his appearance very seriously, with a hint of mocking amusement evident.

“You look like a frog, Moony. A green, frogish beast with no fashion sense,” Sirius declared dramatically, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Remus glared at Sirius before retorting, "Very funny, Padfoot. Thank you for your valuable input."

"Well, you did ask." Sirius grinned wickedly, pretending to be quite pleased with himself.

James, not wanting to be left out of the fun, chimed in with a grin. "I think you look like a broccoli." He teased, unable to resist adding to the banter.

She exited the bathroom then fully dressed, her look complete with a black bodysuit over her fishnet stockings with a belt loosely around her waist, topped with a velvet feeling cape.

Remus' gaze fixed on her, and his breath hitched in his chest as he took in her costume. The black bodysuit and fishnet leggings showed off her curves, and the cape gave her an air of mystery. He swallowed thickly, his eyes wide with appreciation for her stunning look.

The playful banter between the boys ceased as they all turned to look at her, their words momentarily suspended in surprise and admiration. James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Wow.” He murmured, his gaze fixed on her.

Sirius let out a low whistle, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "I don't know whether to be impressed or jealous." He chimed in, his usual playfulness laced with genuine intrigue.

Remus couldn't take his eyes off her, still in slight awe of how she managed to look so stunning and mysterious simultaneously. Though the initial skepticism about the costume idea had dissolved, he couldn't deny that she was truly rocking the whole Raven look.

"You look...incredible." He finally found his voice, breaking the silence that had enveloped the group. He felt his lips curving into a smile, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

Sirius, unable to resist a bit of comic relief, suddenly chimed in. With a playful grin, he tapped his knee-length socks and adjusted his eye mask. "Alright, Raven, you might be the mysterious, broody one tonight, but can we talk about how ridiculous I look?" He joked, his tone laced with faux indignity.

Everyone laughed as she gave a sympathetic pat to the side of Sirius’ head.

© lupinsversion 2024

[thisisntablogspost]

Say You’re Mine - Miniseries

Noah Sebastian x Reader

PART TWO PART THREE

Warning: MDNI! This miniseries contains triggers that may cause a negative effect to the consumer. This includes cheating, forced proximity, toxic dom/sub dynamics, unhealthy relationships, alcohol, coercion, manipulation, unprotected piv (don’t do this). The reader is consenting and allows these things to happen to them.

Authors note: If this isn’t something you don’t want to read please avoid and I’ll catch you on the next one! If I missed any other triggers please, please, please dm me so I can add them. I want you all to be safe when reading my fanfics. Your mental health matters. 🖤

Part One is commencing…are you ready?

You were invited to the Halloween party at the guys house. You didn’t want to go, but Jolly insisted Noah wouldn’t be there. Umm…that’s a lie. He’s right there, talking to a few people you didn’t recognize.

“Ah, fuck” You whisper to yourself, covering your face as if he wouldn’t instantly know who you are. Noah catches a glance of you across the room. Instantly recognizing you. His lips curving into a smirk. He takes you in, his eyes taking over the angel costume that you chose to wear. The wings, the dress that accentuated your body, and the headband with the halo above it. He turned his body towards you, disengaging from his previous conversation. You feel your mouth go dry, how could you not notice his choice of costume. He has the balaclava on, his black trench coat, dark shirt, jeans, and his boots.

You needed to get out of his sight. You dart across the room with quick hellos and goodbyes as your friends walked up to you. You conversed for a few moments then excused yourself. You make your way to the sliding glass door to go out into the back yard. You close it behind you, silence. You let out a breath and tried to calm yourself. You walk over to the patio couches and sit down. You run a hand down your face, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. You groan as your mind wanders, the thoughts that are now only Noah. You lean back on the couch, watching the lights, and listening to the conversations of everyone inside the house.

You run a hand through your hair and check your phone. Ugh, no texts or calls from Ryan. Your boyfriend. He decided last minute to go on a trip without you. Whatever. You roll your eyes, setting your phone down beside you.

“Nice dress”

You freeze. You were so lost in thought you didn’t hear the footsteps come up behind you. Noah. You feel his hands on either side of you on the back of the couch. He’s so close. You let out a whimper. You can smell the faint scent of his cologne.

“Miss me?” He whispers, his voice low and gruff against your neck. You couldn’t speak, your body temperature is rising. You swallow when you hear him snicker behind you.

“I missed you” he said, he was teasing. He always enjoyed teasing you, just to rile you up. A fun little game he so loved to play. Your breathing starts to pick up as he leans closer.

“Look at you trembling beneath me just by my voice did you miss me that badly?” His voice low in your ear, it felt like silk against your skin. You flinch at his words. You’re so weak for him. You try to speak, but only whimpers leave your lips.

“You’re doing terrible at hiding that. I can see you need me. My voice alone has you panting.” He whispers into your ear, his hands coming to your shoulders, rubbing up and down softly. You feel your body tense at his touch. He has you on a silver platter just for him. He slowly turns your neck to the side, allowing himself to see your face. You were a mess already and he loved it. You know he loves seeing this side of you, you being weak to his touch.

“Look at you. So weak for me, you need me” you can only mumble. He chuckles darkly, loving the pathetic little sounds you make.

“I know you need me. I can tell by the way you’re reacting to me. You’re begging to be touch.”

“Please, no. Noah, I have a boyfriend.”

“Please, no? Yet, you’re shaking on this couch. You want me just as much as I want you. You just can’t admit it”

His touch became slightly rougher. A soft rub then he grips your arms, knowing your body was in agony wanting him close to you.

“Does your boyfriend know how weak you are for me?” His words were low, teasing you, knowing your boyfriend had no idea how much control he had over you. It was a toxic cycle that you chose to get out of, but here you are once again under his thumb.

“N-no…sir-Noah I…I..” You didn’t mean to let that slip out. Noah’s hands trail up your arms, through your hair, grabbing a handful and tugs it so you look up at him.

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how much control I have on your body…does he?”

He smirks. You called him sir, you know that’s what he wanted. The title he made you use when you were together.

“N-No” you wince as he tugs your hair firmly.

“Good, I miss you like this.” You whimper softly. He’s so close, so warm. His touch leaving tingles along your body. He lets go of you, he walks around the couch. He towers over you, his eyes locked on yours. He sits down, lifts you up, and pulls you against his chest. You feel his arousal growing. He moves your hair to the other side of your neck. He places soft kisses along your sensitive skin.

“I missed how soft your skin is, your sounds, you need me. Your body is begging…” he moves his hand down, wrapping an arm around your waist. This was his favorite, having you on his lap, in his control.

“Please..Noah..I”

“You can’t help how your body reacts. You need it, don’t you?” His voice low, against your neck. The slow, torturous kisses and nibbles are driving you insane. You try to get up and away from him. His arm pulling you back, wrapping around your stomach again. Your body reacts with small trembles and shivers.

“Please, Noah..” Another plea, yet you don’t get try to get off his lap.

“Please? You want me to stop or you want me to keep going?” He teases, he knew you didn’t want him to stop. You hate to admit it, but that’s the last thing you wanted, and he could feel it. You missed this just as much as he did.

“It’s not fair to him” you sigh, the guilt in your heart growing with each passing minute.

“What he doesn't know can’t hurt him…” He whispers in your ear. He wasn’t going to give you an out. Your body already giving into him. He could still get what he wanted easily, like it was second nature, and you hate yourself for it. You want to try, you love Ryan. You don’t want to ruin your relationship because of Noah.

“I..I can’t”

“You can’t? What can’t you do?” He asks as he moves his head to your neck, the tips of his fingers dancing along your waist and thighs. You whine, feeling your body reacting to his touch. The thoughts of your body slowly slip from your mind as Noah runs his hands up your body, over your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. He continues to kiss along your neck. You didn’t even notice that he pulled your dress down letting your breasts free. You moan, feeling him gently tug at your nipples as he bites your neck. You gasp, your head falling against his chest.

“Mmm”

“Use your words. Be my good girl…” His words are low, teasing against your ear as his hands make their way along her body. The sensations were overwhelming, you felt like a live wire with each tug and caress.

“Don’t call me that..”

“You want me to stop, yet your body begs for me. You know that you need this. My hands all over your body, making you feel so good.” He whispers, his hand slowly slides up and gently wraps around your neck, just holding it. He’s barely putting any pressure, but enough to make you breathe heavier.

“Ahhh…nnnn…Noah” The begging is starting, the wanting. The feeling of his hand wrapping around your delicate throat makes your core ache for him.

“I missed this…your whimpers…your needy responses”He whispers, slowly tightening his grip, enough to make your breath hitch. He loved seeing how it affects you.

“Mmph”

“I especially missed having you completely at my mercy…” He whispers again, tightening his grip a bit around your throat, loving how your body tensed up at his words. Your hands grab his wrist, his grip tightens.

“You know you need me to please you, to take care of you. Look at how badly you’ve missed my touch.” His hold doesn’t loosen as he speaks. He knew you wanted him. His words, his touch, his control over your body.

“You’re so weak for me….say it…” He whispers. He could hear your breathing quicken and the small whimpers of your begging against his grip. It drove him wild as you were on the edge of needing him.

“I…hate how..weak I am..for you”

“Your body is telling me differently, you need me. I know how bad you’ve missed my hands on you. My voice in your ear, my breath against your skin, you can’t get enough of me, can you?” His voice was low in your ear, he’d let go of your neck, moving his hands slowly down your waist, rubbing slowly, barely touching you.

“What is my body telling you? How am I responding to you?” You are fighting this, fighting against Noah. He is like a forbidden wine you were so desperate to taste once again.

“Your body is giving me your answer…your response is telling me it’s been needy, starved, begging for me to take care of you…it’s so obvious.” His hands gently caress your waist, barely touching you. He knows how much a soft gentle touch can drive you crazy with need.

“D-don’t do that..”

“What? This?” He chuckles, slowly moving his hands to your hips, rubbing slow, gentle circles in the way he knows it gets you going.

“That’s not fair Noah…” your head falls against his chest, he holds you against him. His hands move along down to her thighs, his fingers playing with the hem of her dress.

“You know you like it. You can’t help how your body reacts. You need it, you’ve missed this. You’ve missed me” He purs, slowly moving his hands along her inner thigh, just teasing, knowing it’ll get a reaction from you.

“You don’t know what I need..” You knew better not to challenge him. You needed to not let this happen and it was so getting to the point where you’d be getting on your knees for him.

“I don’t? You clearly need someone to take control of you…make you submit. Make your body react…you’re not over me and you know it.” He whispers in your ear.

“How…how do you know what I’ve been deprived of hmm? He could be doing a better job” You swallow, can’t even finish the sentence without hesitation.

“Than..than..” He laughs darkly at your pathetic attempt.

“Because I know you. I know your body better than yourself, you need me to make you feel good. I know what you want and need better than your own boyfriend does” He squeezes along your inner thigh, knowing how the sensations are stirring up the want and desire within you.

“Don’t..don’t do that” You watch his hands working higher up, just below the hem of your dress.

“Why not? You’re getting so needy for it…I know it feels good” His voice is low, knowing you’ll squirm if he does it again.

“I..”

“You need it. I know you don’t want me to stop. You need me to give you what you want…, to make you submit. You want to be good for me, don’t you?” His nails lightly scratch along your thighs.

“Don’t say that…please” you whine, his hands hike up your dress. You watch as his fingers trail over your underwear. A whimper escapes your lips, he slowly runs circles over your clit. The fabric adding more friction than you want, and it feels so good.

“You can’t help that you’re weak for me…such a needy girl under my hands. Tell me you want to be good. I know how badly you do” He purrs into your ear. He knows exactly how to make you fall apart. His slow circles become more precise, more deliberate. Your hips buck against his hand. He pulls your underwear to the side. You’re absolutely soaked, there’s no hiding it.

“How badly do you want me to finger this cunt?” You can only stutter before he smacks your pussy.

“Tell me or I’ll leave you a fucking mess on this couch.” Another smack, you cry out, grabbing onto his arm. His hand around your throat, holding you in place. His lips right next to your ear.

“Please..please, finger my pussy. Please make me cum.” A growl emits from his chest. His hand finds your entrance, collecting your arousal and smearing over your clit. You writhe at the feeling of his fingers. He lets go of your throat, taking your leg and spreading your legs wider for him. He takes two fingers, inserting them into you. You cry out at the feeling of him working you to a steady pace, his fingers moving in the “come here” motion. You close your eyes for a moment, thinking back to the many times he had you like this. How he made you crumble and fall apart. His fingers, his mouth, his tongue. You whine thinking about it, Noah feels you clench around his fingers.

“You close? Already?” He picks up the pace, holding your leg against your chest. You’re so close you can barely keep it together.

“Yes, I’m close. Fuck..fuck…fuck!”

“You gonna cum, baby? You want me to make you cum, huh? Feels so good.” He cooed in your ear, it’s sending you over the edge. You feel the warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Yes, yes, yes! Gonna..gonna…cum”

“I love how much of a needy mess you are for me…how your body aches for me…” He pulls away, not giving you what you wanted. You were his, and you knew it.

“What…I..I’m..” You get off of him, fixing your dress, then you sit on the couch. You look over at him as he stands up and turns to look down at you with a shit eating grin on his face.

He…denied you. You look up at him growing frustrated and angry. He just got you worked up for nothing, because he knows how weak and pathetic you are for him. You can only stare at him as he stands there so prideful towering over you. There’s more to this…oh fuck…this is just the beginning. You know Noah well enough to know that he’s going to make you crawl back to him.

“For how long do I have to endure you doing this to me?”

“As long as I want…I have you right where I want you…desperate and needy. I’ve missed this…having you underneath my thumb…all mine to tease and torment”

He smirks darkly and pulls your chin up to look at him. He loves how worked up you got for him…what he loved more was that you were now frustrated…and he knew it’d take no time before you melted underneath his touch again.

“You’re evil…you’re a fucking asshole!”

“No doubt there…but you like it”

He chuckles. You could get as angry and frustrated as you’d like…you know the effect he has on your body…and he still knows he’ll be the only one to cause such a response…he’s enjoying this more than he wants to admit…he loves that you’re still at the palm of his hand.

(to be continued)

[audreyh002]

As a costume designer I love Scully’s S9 descent because it is literally a descent. On the most practical level she’s not dressing strictly professional anymore, so we get more street clothes (ie: cool leather jackets.) She’s also emotionally so done and so closed off. Hence the turtlenecks and dark colors (sooo much gray, black, burgundy.) Her wardrobe strikes me as utilitarian and armor-like. She’s not having fun. She’s not here to flirt. The love of her life is God knows where and even knowing where won’t help either of them so she’s here raising their son just in case it’s the last link she has to Mulder for the two of them. Her clothing is here to do two things: protect and get the job done. She looks badass but also so tired of it all. She was never one to express herself through her clothing before, but we got hints and whiffs of sexuality with the silky professional button downs unbuttoned j u s t lower than office appropriate while running around bagging and tagging aliens with Mulder, and her suits which were professional but also fucking hot. Now its turtlenecks all the way down and leather trenches, and it’s like my girl is not here to play she’s here to SLAY and she means mostly the kind when folks end up dead. Girl is ready to cut a bitch in those clothes.

[juanarc-thethird]

What can I get you? #7

Bleiss is once again spying on Jaune as he works to find more of his housewreckers admirers . She wears a costume like last time. A large khaki trench coat, sunglasses and a discreet black hat that covers her hair.

Meanwhile, Jaune continues doing his job normally. While out of the corner of his eye he watches Bleiss sitting at the back of the restaurant eating her seventh hamburger.

Jaune: (Does she really think I don't notice her in that costume?)

He says to himself

Then a new client appears in front of him. A girl a little taller than normal, wearing a green dress, a green beret that she matches, and very round black glasses. But what caught her attention the most was her long curly reddish hair that reached the middle of her back.

She looked a little shy, as if this was the first time she had come to a place like this. She prepares to speak and says…

Random guy: You're taking too long, girl!

A man says as he cuts the line and stands in front of her. Pushing her back from such action. Luckily she doesn't fall, just her glasses get loose a little.

Bleiss: (What an asshole!)

Random Guy: I want an enlarged number 9 and a chocolate shake, pronto.

Jaune: I'm sorry but you will have to wait your turn. The young lady behind you was first.

Random guy: Come on boy, she was taking too long. Just give me what I order and I'll get the hell out of here.

Jaune: I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait like everyone else.

Random guy: Listen to me asshole, I'm starving. Give me my damn food and I'll get the fuck out of here.

At that moment you could see a vein forming on Jaune's forehead. His co-workers notice and move away a little.

Jaune: I'm sorry, but as I mentioned before, the lady behind you came first. Once she finishes giving me her order, I will gladly help you.

Random guy: Don't you listen to me, you moron! I'm starving here! Give me my fucking food!

Jaune: Sir, I can't...

Random guy: I don't give a fuck! Give me my food now!

At that moment Jaune's smile disappeared and his face changed to anger.

Jaune: *Furious* I don't give a flying fuck about your food. I mean, who the fuck do I look like? Your goddamn servant?

Random guy: W-What?! You can't talk like that!

Jaune: Bitch, I can talk to you any way I fucking want! But fuck it, if you really want your food so bad. Then let's go to the parking lot, and I'll drag you all the way to the dumpster so you can eat something. But if you don't want that, then Wait. Your. Fucking. Turn. Got it?!

Random guy: Y-Yes, sir.

Bleiss: *Blushing* (Fuck~💕 That was hot~)

Jaune: *Smiles* Good. Now can you give the lady some space, please.

Random guy: O-Of course.

The guy moves out of the way and the girl walks to the counter.

Jaune: What would you like to order, Miss?

Taking her gaze away from Jaune's. She hugs her book tightly and looks hard into Jaune's eyes. She looks nervous and her face is completely flushed. She tries to say something but it's hard for her.

Jaune: It's ok, take your time.

He says with his bright smile

?????: M-My...

Jaune: Yes?

Penny: M-My n-name is Pe-Pe-Penny!

Jaune: Nice to meet you Penny. My name is Jaune. What would you like to order? Or do you need help with the menu?

Penny: I...

Jaune: *Smiling*

Penny: I...!

Jaune: Hm?

Penny: I NEED TO GO!

Penny runs towards the exit, leaving Jaune confused.

Jaune: Did I scare her?

Unknown to him, Penny was outside against the wall of the restaurant. He hugs her tightly while she breathes softly. She then moves the book away from her body. And as she looks at the cover she says.

Penny: I finally found him~

Revealing the cover that says "Rapunzel"

Showing a girl trapped in a tower with very long hair, being rescued by a knight using said hair to climb.

-------------- Housewreckers Admirers: ?+1

[wholoveseggs]

Hi there!! I been reading your works and I love your writing. This my first request ever.

I had this idea, and I was thinking about a gothic vampire reader with the personality and the looks of Morticia Addams, and the love for the macabre. And Elijah catches her attention and she catches his attention. Of course, they meet at a gala, a opera etc. And for weeks, they have been getting to know each other. Until one day, he comes over to her house, they are having a good time then the visit turns steamy and smutty, it is passionate and feral. And maybe with blood sharing between the two.

But of course, if you don’t want to then you don’t have to and you can ignore this.

Decadence

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah meets an intriguing woman at the opera, leading to an evening of music, wine and vampiric indulgences.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @thealienartist!! Absolutely obsessed with this idea, I LOVE gothic romance & horror!!! This was an absolute dream to write. Can Elijah please be the Gomez to my Morticia heart? ♡♡

5.9k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, blood drinking, I was self-projecting hard with this one... {I just want to be her}, black cats, chocolate cake, vintage wine, a love letter, Victorian gothic everything... I listened to Totentanz on repeat while writing this... {its a vibe}

Elijah had always enjoyed the arts, whether that be in music or literature or even painting and live performances. He found that the arts were one of the only things that made him feel truly alive. Even with his undead heart beating within his chest.

Around the turn of the century, Elijah discovered his love for horror. It amused him to see how humans depicted the supernatural, their interpretations of his kind were rather off. Vampires living in run down castles, with no regard for the world around them, their main purpose to drain the blood of the innocent. It was almost laughable, though some of his kind did enjoy that lifestyle.

It was during this time that he fell in love with opera, something his siblings didn't exactly agree with. Rebekah found it to be dull, Klaus found it to be pretentious and Kol didn't care either way.

They just didn't get it, the music, the drama, the costumes, had him completely enraptured.

So, when he heard that La bohème was being performed, he immediately made plans to go. He had seen it many times, but never got tired of the performance. He just wished that he could have somebody to go with, but none of his family wanted to attend.

He put on his favorite four piece suit, combed his hair, grabbed his black trench coat and made his way to the opera house.

As the lights dimmed and the stage lit up, Elijah couldn't help but feel a little sad, wishing he had someone to share this interest with, but he was content watching alone.

He watched as the curtains parted and the actors began their first scene, he immediately fell into a trance as he took in the performance.

Intermission was announced and he went outside for some fresh air, he was surprised to see a woman, who looked like she was plucked straight out of the past, standing on the balcony.

She was smoking a cigarette, the long stick held elegantly in her fingers. Her nails were red talons and her dark hair cascaded down her back, stopping at her hips. She was dressed in a all black Victorian style dress, which complimented her pale skin, making it look almost ghostly.

She tilted her head at him in acknowledgement, then went back to staring out into the night.

Elijah usually wasn't the one to approach women, he preferred for them to make the first move. But something about this one intrigued him, he was curious about her.

He stepped onto the balcony and approached her slowly. Watching the wisps of smoke rise into the air.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Elijah Mikaelson, I presume?" Her voice was deep, but still feminine, her eyes darker than his own. She was strikingly beautiful, there was no doubt about that.

"You know who I am?" Elijah raised his eyebrows.

She chuckled, gracefully flicking her cigarette butt away.

"Who doesn't? The infamous Mikaelson's, who rule the streets of New Orleans with blood and fear... I'm a big fan," she said.

He smiled and shook his head, "We do not rule the city, we simply protect it from our enemies."

She hummed, a smirk gracing her ruby red lips.

"You do have a reputation," she replied.

Elijah nodded and stepped forward.

"What is your name, darling?"

She chuckled and leaned against the railing, gazing up at him with a smirk. "Y/n," she said, extending her hand out to him.

He grasped her hand gently, his lips brushing against her knuckles, her eyes sparkled as she watched his lips.

"Hmm, they don't make them like you anymore," she mused, her eyes traveling up and down his body. "You are so very old-fashioned," she added with a sly smile.

"Well I am quite old," he jested, matching her smile.

They stood and stared at each other for a moment before Elijah broke the silence. "What do you think of this performance?" He asked, gesturing towards the theater.

She shrugged, "I've seen worse, I've seen better," she replied.

Elijah found himself smirking at her response, not really knowing why. Maybe because he had found himself feeling the same.

"May I ask what brings you here?" He wondered why she was attending an opera alone.

"I was bored, looking for someone to eat," she stated. Her eyes roaming over his body once more.

Elijah let out a chuckle and ran a hand through his hair. There was only a handful of times in his long life that a woman actually made him nervous, this being one of those times.

She reached forward and placed her hand on his chest, leaning closer towards him, her lips ghosting against his ear, her scent surrounded him, it was intoxicating and Elijah found himself leaning into her.

"I'll see you around Mr. Mikaelson," she whispered and gently pulled away from him, giving him a wink before going back inside. Elijah watched her go, letting out a sigh as he shook his head, not being able to wipe the smile off of his face.

You considered yourself a solitary creature. Even in your human life, you tended to keep people at a distance. You felt misunderstood, even a bit judged by your peers, you didn't really like being around people.

After you were turned, things hadn't really changed that much, you still found it difficult to connect with others, but now you were mostly untethered and unburdened by society's rules.

The freedom of being a vampire was nice, to be able to go and do whatever you pleased, whenever you pleased and live however you saw fit.

You spent most of your years traveling, seeking out new places, experiencing new cultures and meeting people along the way. And with all this knowledge you learned exactly who you are and what you like.

New Orleans was one of your favorite places, full of vibrancy and life. It was an aesthetic heaven for you, a place that celebrated death, promoted the macabre, had strong connections to magic. Not to mention their appreciation for the arts.

For the last few decades, you had taken up residence in an old Victorian home. You compelled the local historical society to allow you to paint the exterior completely black. Planted dark red roses along the windows and hung little chandeliers made of animal bones along the porch.

You had spent quite a bit of time decorating the interior, making it a space that you could feel truly comfortable in. Something that made your home feel like it truly reflected your personality.

The house fit you perfectly; outside looking like something from a B-horror film, but the interior was homely and feminine, decorated with macabre pieces, gothic furniture, tapestries adorned the walls and candles were scattered everywhere.

You never really acclimated to modern society, you were turned in the 1800s and preferred to live according to the time. You liked old things, dark antiques, things that held a certain kind of energy within them.

So when you met Elijah Mikaelson at the opera house, you knew you had to add him to your collection.

You had heard about the Mikaelson family for a long time, whispers of them among the vampires. You had become intrigued, they were the oldest of your kind, the knowledge they possessed fascinated you.

You couldn't help the smirk that had stretched across your lips when you finally came face to face with Elijah, he was exactly how you imagined him. Tall, dark and handsome, dressed to perfection, emanating wealth and power. Finding him at the opera added to your attraction, knowing that his interests matched your own made it all that more charming.

Elijah Mikaelson was the fine wine of men and you wanted to bathe yourself in it. Wanted to drink up every drop of it, savoring the taste of it on your lips.

You sat in your living room, your cat on your lap, purring contently as you ran your fingers through his fur. You were dressed in a large silk robe, your hair tied up in a bun, dark wine colored lipstick on your lips. A mug filled with blood sat on the table beside you.

You were writing out a letter to him, with ink and parchment, your favorite fountain pen adding a certain flourish to your lettering. Your cat jumped off of your lap and you grabbed an envelope to place the letter inside. You folded the parchment and stuck it in the envelope, sealing it with wax and writing Elijah's name onto the paper.

You hoped he would like the gesture, you knew he was an old fashioned man, so sending him a letter with a gift was bound to catch his attention. It had been a long, long time since you felt nervous, and it had been at least a hundred years since you had a crush like this.

You grabbed the parcel with his gift in it and walked over to your front door, slipping on your heels, you headed out of the house and down your side walk, plucking a rose along the way.

The postman was close to leaving, just as you approached his mail van.

"Hello," you greeted, and watched as he turned and jumped, clearly startled by your sudden appearance.

"Jesus lady, I didn't hear you coming," he stammered, looking you up and down, a nervous smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you left."

He shook his head and smiled, waving away your concern.

"I have a parcel for you to deliver," you said.

He nodded and held out his hand for the letter.

"What's the address?" He asked, staring down at the envelope, taking note of your fine penmanship.

"The Abattoir, in the French Quarter. For Elijah Mikaelson," you told him, running your fingertips along the thorns of your rose.

The postman nodded his head and placed the letter in his van.

"Have a nice day," he said as he walked away.

You watched him climb into his vehicle and drive away, a smirk playing on your lips, hoping your letter would get the attention you desired.

Elijah was spending the day lazing about, enjoying a rare day of peace and quiet, catching up on his reading. He wasn't expecting any visitors, but a knock sounded at the front door, which was a highly unusual occurrence.

He wandered downstairs, a nervous looking postman was waiting at the gate, looking around the old compound with fascination and hesitation.

"Elijah Mikaelson?" He asked timidly.

"Yes?" Elijah looked at him in bewilderment, it had been a long time since he had received anything in the mail, it wasn't like he had a registered address.

"This is for you," he said, handing him the envelope and a small package, wrapped in crimson coloured paper and tied with a black ribbon.

Elijah thanked him and made his way back into his home, he wondered who could have sent him a letter, the handwriting was immaculate, a skill that wasn't common in today's world.

He realized who it was from instantly when he saw the initials, y/n. A smile graced his lips, feeling like a giddy schoolboy instead of a thousand year old vampire.

He quickly undid the black ribbon and opened the paper, revealing a beautiful piece of art, depicting a flying demon eating a young woman's heart. The detail was incredibly fine, and he realized after a quick sniff, that the red of the painting was not paint. It was blood.

A thought crossed his mind, he wondered if it was a piece of your art, he found your work to be truly frightening, beautiful and enchanting, reminding him of the piece Nighthawks, though darker and macabre.

Opening the letter, he read it carefully,

Dearest Mr. Mikaelson, I hope this letter finds you well, if not please pardon my forwardness. I never understood the flirting etiquette of the modern woman. I find myself longing for the company of a man with your refined tastes, such a delicate palette. I was intrigued from the moment we met, our meeting felt fortuitous. I must confess that I have not felt this way in centuries, being in your presence awakened something within me that I wasn't aware still existed. I find myself completely enamored. Perhaps my feelings are returned? If not, then please accept this gift in hopes of extending our friendship. Though I do wish you share in my hopes of something a little more. I will be home tonight, perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me for a drink? Until then I remain Your Admirer, y/n.

Elijah couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he gently folded the parchment and placed it on his desk. He immediately went to check himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, combing it neatly to the side. He found himself anxiously changing his tie, nothing matched what he was wearing, but he wanted everything to be perfect.

He found a pair of ruby cufflinks, feeling that they complimented the letter and would perhaps set the mood.

Grabbing his black wool jacket and adjusting his tie, he made his way outside before stopping and running back inside, he couldn't possibly come empty handed and he knew just the thing to bring you.

You waited nervously inside your house, you had decided to wear a simple black slip dress, your hair flowing over your shoulders in waves, your black winged eyeliner perfectly defining your eyes.

You needed a way to quell your anxiety, so you decided to play a tune on your organ, something to fill the silence, create a soundtrack to go along with the nerves that bounced around inside your mind and heart.

If he didn't show, you would understand. It had been quite a while since you've expressed your affections to anyone. It had been a lifetime since you were courted.

Your fingers idly drifted over the ivory keys, producing a somber yet melodic tune. Your nails were filed into sharp talons, painted a deep crimson, matching the lipstick on your lips.

The melody flowed through the house, the tune reverberating against the walls, seeping through the floorboards. Your cat jumped up and settled in your lap, the soft vibrations from the organ lulling him into a purring trance.

A soft knock broke the melody and you felt your heart stutter. Placing your cat on the seat you walked over to your door. Taking a steadying breath, you grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Men usually didn't have you so utterly flustered, but with Elijah, it seemed like even your centuries old blood could grow warm.

"Good evening, I received your letter and gift, thank you."

He greeted you with a genuine smile, an excited glint in his eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in his appearance, he was dressed to perfection, like always, obviously following along with your old fashioned aesthetic. You liked that you didn't have to ask him, he just got it.

"Please, come in," you stepped to the side to make room for him, you shut the door as he walked inside.

"Quite a lovely home you have here," he said, admiring the interior of the house.

You took his coat and led him into the sitting room, pointing to one of the antique sofas.

"Please, take a seat."

He sat and placed the bottle of wine he had brought on the table.

You took the bottle and marveled at the label, your interest peaked, feeling slightly taken back, it was one of the rarest reds, bottles of this were difficult to come by, most of them now lying at the bottom of the sea.

You knew it was not a simple gesture, this was the kind of thing you save for very special occasions. Knowing that he considered this date that special made your stomach flutter.

"Now how did you manage to get your hands on this?" You asked, placing the bottle beside the two glasses you had set out earlier.

"My brother was the culprit behind a number of shipwrecks, during the golden era of piracy," Elijah responded, a smirk gracing his lips.

You chuckled as you grabbed the corkscrew. "That is no surprise," you replied as you popped the cork out.

You grabbed the glasses and walked over to him, passing him one of the glasses before sitting across from him.

You both raised your glasses and clinked them together, taking a drink, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

"I heard you playing as I approached the house, you have a lovely talent," Elijah said.

You smiled and nodded your head, looking down at your wine.

"That was very sweet of you to say," you looked up at him through your lashes, admiring his handsome features.

You took another sip and watched him over the rim of your glass, his eyes watching you as well.

"What were you playing? Totentanz?" He asked.

"Indeed, it’s one of my favorites," you said, tilting your glass in his direction, "and it felt appropriate," you jested.

A beautiful smile stretched across Elijah's face as he let out a chuckle. His smile made your lips curl up, mirroring his expression.

"So tell me," he began, "What made you decide to come to New Orleans?"

You shrugged and crossed your legs, the sliver of skin left exposed as the fabric cascaded over your thighs, capturing his attention.

"I love it here, the culture, the art, blood tastes sweeter here," you said, letting a sly smile grace your face. "I like the way this city weaves death and beauty," you paused and took a sip, "it just feels like home to me."

Elijah nodded his head in understanding, he appreciated what you had said. "Yes, there is a certain allure about this city,"

"Your family helped build it back in the 1800s, no?" You asked, running your finger along the lip of your glass.

He nodded, "yes we did, from swamps and brothels to one of the wealthiest cities."

You chuckled and shook your head, "yet the swamps and brothels remain," you mused.

"But not nearly as much," he joked.

You both sat and talked for hours, getting to know each other, laughing and drinking. Elijah was surprised to find that you didn't mind listening to him talk about his travels and life, in fact you hung onto his every word. To him, you were utterly enchanting, the way your eyes lit up as you talked, your laugh, the way you looked at him.

At one point he got up and sat closer to you, his hand gently grazing your thigh, leaning in close as you spoke, his eyes locked on yours. Your lips parted and you felt his breath ghosting across your mouth, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He was such a gentleman, waiting for you to initiate the kiss, but you wanted to do one last thing before you tasted his lips.

"I made something for us, if you would like to try it," you whispered.

He leaned back and tilted his head, his eyes curious.

You smirked and placed your wine glass down, slowly standing up.

"Follow me," you told him.

Elijah trailed after you into your dining room, a large wooden table in the center of the room, filled with silver platters and a centerpiece of black and white roses.

You had made a decadent chocolate cake using human blood, the dark rich blood mixing with the cocoa, making a sinfully dark and delicious dessert.

You pulled out a chair for him and motioned for him to sit.

"This looks delicious, did you make this?" Elijah asked.

You nodded and cut a slice for him, placing it on a plate.

"Yes, I made it from scratch," you said, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Gathered all the ingredients from local suppliers."

Elijah hummed, taking his first bite, his eyes widened and he let out a soft groan.

"This is divine," he exclaimed, the veins around his eyes darkening.

You sat and watched him eat the entire slice, his eyes were blown out, the bloodlust apparent in his expression. You bit your lip, trying to hold in your excitement.

You pushed your plate towards him, a wicked grin on your lips. "Would you like another slice?"

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the bloodlust making him look feral, his eyes completely black.

"I would prefer to taste something else," he said.

Your lips curled into a smile as he stood, pushing his chair back and pulling you out of yours.

His arms snaked around your waist, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you flush against him. You ran your hand up his chest and wrapped it around his neck, your lips meeting his.

He tasted like red wine, chocolate and just a hint of blood, his mouth soft and pliant, his tongue brushing against your lips. You nipped at his bottom lip and he growled, pushing his hips against yours, walking you backwards, pinning you against the wall.

"Where did you come from?" He marveled, his hands grabbing your ass.

You laughed and ran your hand through his hair, giving it a light tug.

"Does it matter?" You whispered, pressing your lips against his again, kissing him hungrily.

"You've been in my city for so long, yet I only just met you, how very unfortunate," his voice was gruff as he spoke, his hips rolling against yours.

"I guess we will have to make up for lost time," you said, your voice dripping with lust.

Elijah picked you up and flashed up the stairs, his hands cupping your ass, his lips attached to your neck. He walked you into the bedroom, tossing you on the bed.

You laid there, propped up on your elbows, staring up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips, your dark hair fanning out on the pillow.

He looked at you in awe, your red lips were swollen from his kiss and the hem of your slip had risen up your thighs. He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards you, hovering over your body, his mouth finding yours again, his hands running up to the hem of your stockings, his fingers teasing the skin under the material.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him, straddling his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing his toned chest.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping the straps of your slip off your shoulders, revealing your black corset, his hands trailing over the boning, the lace covering your breasts, the garters that held up your stockings, and the panties that were already ruined.

"I miss when women would dress this way," he sighed, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, a look of hunger in his eyes.

You chuckled, bending down to nip at his bottom lip, your lips moving along his jaw.

"Happy to keep the tradition alive," you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his neck, your fangs running along the artery, feeling his pulse against the tip of your fangs.

Elijah flipped you over and pressed his body against yours, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides, his thumb tilting your head back. His other hand found the ties inn the front of your corset, slowly undoing the knots, the ribbon sliding through the eyelets, the corset loosening with each pull.

You watched his eyes flicker over your breasts, his fangs extending, his breathing heavy. He looked up and met your gaze, his face shifting, his veins spreading underneath his eyes.

He bent down, his fangs sinking into your chest, your blood filling his mouth, dripping down his chin. Your eyes rolled back as he fed from you, his hand squeezing your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting your nipple.

The pain of his fangs and the pleasure of his hands were overwhelming, you felt drunk, you felt euphoric.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back, your mouth colliding with his, tasting yourself on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and rolled his hips against yours, his bulge pressing against your core.

You both frantically began to undress, his pants and belt tossed aside, your dress and corset ripped off, thrown onto the floor. You laid back, wearing nothing but your stockings and panties, his boxer briefs the only piece of clothing left on his body.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you back underneath him, his lips finding yours, his hand running up your leg, hooking his finger into the thin strap of your panties, tearing them off.

"That was entirely ungentlemanly," you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

Elijah smirked, kissing his way down your stomach, stopping at your pelvis, his fangs lightly scraping the skin above your pussy.

"You don't seem to mind," he mused, his hand pushing your thighs open, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips bucked and your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it, urging him on. You appreciated his enthusiasm as he indulged in pleasuring you.

His tongue felt deliciously warm against your skin, your eyes shut, your breath ragged. It had been so long since you had a man between your legs, and Elijah was no ordinary lover, his skill level matched his age.

You moaned and writhed beneath him, his thumb pressed against your clit, your wetness covering his chin.

"Fucking hell," you panted, your body starting to tense.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your body a ball of pent up tension, with one final stroke of his tongue, your orgasm broke through the last sliver of control.

You shook and gasped as your climax took over, your whole body erupting in pleasure. Elijah lifted his head, watching you, his lips curling into a sly smile.

"That's a sight," he praised, sitting up and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

You slowly opened your eyes, a blissful smile plastered on your face.

"Indeed it is," you replied, your breathing uneven.

"But you should watch your language, I thought you were a lady," he teased, his eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

You narrowed your eyes and smirked, leaning forward, grabbing his shoulders and rolling him onto his back. Your bodies were slotted together, your faces close to each other.

"When have I ever claimed to be a lady?" You asked, kissing along his jawline, nipping the soft skin at the end of his neck.

Your hands trailed down his body, running over his chest, letting your nails run down his torso, breaking the skin, long bloody tracks appearing.

You kissed your way down his chest, licking the blood up, your fangs scraping against his abdomen. You looked up and caught his hungry gaze, his body tensing under you, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Smirking, you kissed the fabric that separated you from his cock, your hands reaching up and tugging at the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum. His eyes fluttered shut and he hissed in pleasure, his hands tangling in your hair.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as you slowly descended on his cock. "I may look like a lady," you popped off him and kissed the head. "but I fuck like a dirty, filthy whore."

Elijah groaned at your words, the hands in your hair tightening, gripping your strands, guiding you back down, taking in more of him.

You bobbed your head along his shaft, sucking and lapping at the vein along the underside, one of your hands pumping the part you couldn't fit in your mouth, the other gently cupping his balls, squeezing and massaging them.

Elijah slowly began to rock his hips, matching your rhythm, his breathing heavy and rapid, his voice hoarse as he murmured your name.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth, you looked up at him, tilting your head, "yes?" You smirked, blowing air onto the tip.

Elijah pulled you up and kissed you, flipping you over and once again pinning you underneath him. He pulled your thigh up to hook around his waist, gripping your ass, letting his cock rub along your slit. He pulled on the hem of your stocking, letting it snap back against your skin.

"Gorgeous, intoxicating thing," he cooed, slowly sinking into you.

You threw your head back and let out a moan, your leg hiked up to allow him deeper access. He placed one hand under your thigh, holding your leg in place, while the other found your neck, his thumb grazing your windpipe, applying the perfect amount of pressure. The hand under your leg holding you firmly. You knew that a part of him wanted to give into the bloodlust, the animalistic side of him that was desperate to sink his fangs into your neck. His gentleness mixed with his aggressiveness drove you wild.

You felt every inch of his cock as he slowly rolled his hips, pulling out of you almost fully before entering you again. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing along yours. It was intense and overwhelming, the way he had all your senses tied up in his touch, his mouth, his taste, the sound of his breathing, his movements.

You struggled to hold it together, your pleasure building with each stroke, and he knew, he loved seeing you come undone.

He began to pick up his pace, his hips snapping against yours. It was like the perfect dance, his hips moving so smoothly and perfectly in time with yours, both of you chasing the inevitable crash.

Your eyes met, and everything else seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in his gaze, everything slowing down. He kissed you softly, tenderly, making you melt in his hands.

You brought one hand down to rest on his cheek, holding his face against yours, kissing him back just as tenderly. You ran your index finger along his jaw line, your sharp nail drawing blood, dipping your finger between your lips. He tasted so much better than you imagined, like pure power and divine lust.

Elijah groaned at the sight of your blood stained lips and he sped up, his lips on your neck, his fangs running over your skin.

You tugged on his hair, urging him to bite you, to drink his fill, you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over completely.

His fangs sank into your neck, your blood spilling into his mouth, some of it dripping onto your chest, his teeth slicing into your skin.

The sensation pushed you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, your hands grabbing at his shoulders, a strangled cry of his name leaving your lips.

He didn't stop, just as he was reaching his peak, he sank his teeth in deeper. He growled, his hips losing their rhythm as his climax hit him. You were both a gasping, moaning mess, clinging to one another, your fingers digging into each other's skin.

The two of you collapsed in a sweaty heap, tangled in the sheets, your skin glistening, breathing heavy.

You felt light headed and euphoric. His gaze was piercing and loving, his fingers brushing across your neck, softly wiping the blood off. His mouth gently caressed yours, his hands cupping your face.

He brushed your hair behind your ears, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers tracing your skin. It was hard to believe that you had only known him for a night, it felt like a lifetime.

A long overdue release of tension and you were happy to be the object of his affections. He was by far the most interesting man you had ever met.

You melted into him, his hands wrapping around you, holding you close. Everything felt perfect, the dim lights, the sound of rain in the background, the weight of him beside you.

The slow creak of your bedroom door opening, cut through the stillness of the night. The soft mew of your cat greeted the both of you, followed by the sound of him jumping onto your bed. The comforting feeling of his paws walking along the sheets as he came to investigate the disturbance in his home.

He walked along Elijah's body, bumping his head against Elijah's outstretched hand, purring happily.

"And who might you be?" Elijah asked.

"Erebus," you responded, stroking Erebus' fur. "It means darkness."

Elijah nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"An appropriate name," he mused, watching the black cat turn around on his chest, finding a comfortable spot to settle.

Erebus yawned and curled into a ball, closing his eyes.

You smiled and snuggled in closer to Elijah, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I guess Erebus wants me to stay," He chuckled.

You laughed and reached over him, scratching the cat behind the ears.

"It does seem that way," you teased. "And I have no intention of kicking you out."

Elijah smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"Good," he said. "Because I intend on staying right here."

You looked up at him and smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had never met anyone who could make you feel so special and desirable.

Elijah's face was gentle, his eyes crinkled, his mouth curled into a smile. He kissed you again, a sweet, chaste kiss, and then he turned his attention back to Erebus, who was now fast asleep on his chest.

"Did you know that Erebus fathered Eros, the god of love and desire?" He asked.

"I did," you chucked, watching your little cats chest rise and fall.

"There is a play house not far from here, they are putting on a performance about it, the play is called Sweet Eros. Would you like to go see it? It's quite twisted, it seems like something you would enjoy."

You nodded and kissed him, a grin on your face.

"Mr. Mikaelson, I think this is the start of something beautiful," you teased, your fingers tracing his collarbone.

"Oh my darling," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "It already is."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[meowordeath]

A/N: I love Identity V!! especially Eli Clark!! I attempt to make it as gender ambiguous as possible, besides one having the word boob just replace it with pec! i didn’t know a gender neutral term for boob, sorry! :3 btw I'm not sure if someone else has already done this!

Characters | Eli Clark , Ganji Gupta , Naib Subedar and the lovely lady Patricia Dorval

Content warning : fluff , reader with boobs but no specific pronoun, not too inappropriate, jack the ripper And Breaking wheel if those count?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! :3

Eli Clark

Before the match started Eli got to view your new costume. It looked very ninja like, the clothes were very skin tight. You two chatted while preparing for the match “Remember, just called out and I'll send brooke to your aid, okay?” He whispered to you laying his gloved hand atop yours. “I know, don't worry if I need you I’ll shout”

You smile before pecking him on the cheek. Brooke hoots happily, as Eli gives you one more loving look, before everyone's sight fades.

For first few minutes of the match you had been decoding. Feeling more relaxed as Luca shouted the hunter was on him, making him first kite. Your cipher was a little over half way done, as Luca started kiting toward you. At first you assumed he was just kiting in the area so you didn't bother to get off the cipher.

Your heartbeat started to get more prominent, but you were still very lax, thinking Luca and whoever the hunter was were just getting closer, when a shout rang out through the map. “Beware! Hunter has changed target!” You lifted your head abruptly from your cipher, accidentally messing up a calibration in the process making you shield your face from the explosion.

Soon after you messed it up you felt blades run from your back to your side. You cry out in pain bumping into the cipher as you sprint away, unfortunately the cipher snagged one of the slashes he had made in your shirt. A dark chuckle sounded behind you as you ran.

“This chase is already way more exciting than chasing that decoder,” Jack said licking the blood from his blades. You ran vaulting windows, throwing pallets for distance, you even led him back to Luca. Luca had a flustered look watching you pass him.

Eli knew you were currently kiting and trusted that you’d call out for help, so he didn't want to waste his spectate. “Help me!” Your shout rang out through the map. Eli was quick to send brooke to your aid. Looking through brooke's eyes he was shocked at the condition of your current costume. His face turned a little red.

Jack had only meant to slash your back, but since you messed up the calibration his slash went down your side, slicing open your shirt. It would've been fine with thin slashes, if your crash into the cipher hadn't caused your shirt to snag. It tore and your right boob was pretty much exposed.

You were trying to hold onto some dignity pulling the shreddings of your shirt over to cover it, but vaulting and pulling down pallets. You needed both your hands. Jack definitely had a great view of you each time you pulled down pallets. Eli was quick to find the teams other assist, William, and asking for his help to get The Ripper off you.

William was quick to assist. He stunned Jack allowing you to escape and hide, forcing him switch targets. Eli set brooke to find you, so he could help.

When he did find you, you were crouched behind a pallet, making a pathetic attempt to save your shirt. Eli crouched in front of you, not looking at your chest, instead checking over the wound. “It’s gonna be okay s/o, you can have my trench coat” His voice was slightly flustered, as he shed his coat.

He was left in his white long-sleeve button-up and black tie. You couldn't be more thankful for him wearing his recluse costume. “Thank you, Eli. God, this is pretty embarrassing!” Both your guy's faces have a faint blush, as you button up his trench coat finally covering your exposed flesh.

Eli's nervousness faded as he smiled. Lifting his hand to cup your cheek. “Don't worry, if they say anything, I'll have brooke rose peck out their eyes” he jokes, brooke hoots in agreement.

Ganji gupta

You and Tracy are both hanging out in the manors workshop. She was originally tinkering until you came in, wanting to show off your new costume to her. It had this futuristic theme, and Tracy was quick abandoned her invention to mess with the small gadgets they stuck to you as accessories.

On the front-side of your shorts, you had some sort of tablet with buttons and fun looking controls. It was attached to some belt that had other gadgets, they were all locked to the belt, which was attached to the shorts. Tracy was crouched down messing with them all.

“How mad do you think Miss Nightingale would be if I started taking this stuff apart?” Tracy said with a small grin. You look down and it seems she had already took her screwdriver to a few things. “Well, I guess we will find out” She laughed at your words.

Everything was going fine you were standing as you watch Tracy dismantle each piece of futuristic tech on the belt. Ganji knocked before entering the workshop. He sighed looking at Tracy crouched next to you. “How much longer are you gonna keep my s/o, Reznik?”

Ganji was told this was only gonna be a quick visit to show off the costume. Yet He’d been left waiting out there for at least 20 minutes. “Calm down ‘Gupta’ your s/o came here to show off their costume to me not you!” Tracy taunted, while saying his name is a mocking tone. Ganji scoffed, setting his cricket bat down at the door.

“Who do you think they showed it to first, Reznik.” Ganji sounded like he was subtly bragging, at being the first person to see you in the new costume. Tracy rolled her eyes. “Darn, the screen to this thing just doesn't want to come off!” She said trying to get the screen off, to get the wiring.

Ganji started to walk toward them reaching to pull Tracy off his s/o. “Okay Reznik, I’ve had my fair share of sharing my s/o.” Before He could reach Tracy she had fell back as her force caused your shorts to rip.

Tracy honestly didn't see anything with how fast Ganji was to cover you, He scowled down at Tracy. “I'm sorry...?” She said with a sheepish smile. “Find my s/o something to cover up with Reznik” He said firmly. She was quick to bolt out of the room. “Right! I'll be right back!”

She didn't look back in fear of seeing Ganji's harsh gaze. You could help but rest you forehead against his back laughing. “What are you laughing at? You’re currently in your underwear, if you hadn’t noticed.” He said turning toward you with a slight frown.

“I can’t help but laugh at the silliness of this situation my love. I never expected Tracy to rip my shorts, all so she could get the tablet!” You found this situation pretty funny. Ganjis frown turned into a small smile with your amusement.

“Glad you find this amusing. Though I’d rather be the only one to see my lover without pants on.” His words made your face slightly red. “Okay, perv.” His gaped slightly. “… I’ll remember that the next time your clothes rip. I won’t cover you.”

You smile squeezing his cheeks. “Yes you will, because you love me!” He sighed as you squeezed his face passive-aggressively. “… Yes I will.”

Naib Subedar

You know your lover hates Murro with an burning passion. Mostly because he hates boars, but you thought Murro’s boar was kinda cute.

Unfortunately Murro stayed very far away from you, making it so you barely saw his boar outside of matches.

It was a very nice day at the manor, survivor matches going smoothly, not that you had any matches to participate in today, Naib had about one or tw. With him on the team you didn’t doubt they would win.

In the manor there is an outdoor area, and due to you not having any matches today you want to go walk around in the sun for a bit.

On your way out you were wearing loose fitting loungewear. Not being in a match you didn’t want to put effort into putting on one of your usually costumes.

The sun felt good especially after being inside for most the day, you would take what you can get before Naib decides to ‘lowkey’ glue himself to your side. The outdoor part of the manor was pretty big enough to have a small forest, with a gate surrounding the whole area of course.

In the distance near trees you saw a tail and decided to investigate. Upon getting closer you realized its nust Murro's boar.

“Oh, I wonder why you’re out here by yourself. Is Murro around?” You said crouching down in front of the boar. It kind of just stared at you chewing on grass.

“Right, you’re an animal you can’t talk…” You felt a little awkward as the boar stared you down. “Well… I’m gonna go back that way…?” You stand dusting yourself off. As you stand the boar approaches you. You got back down wanting to pet it.

It did let you pet it for a moment, you got to even rub its stomach. It was fun, until you decided to go back inside and it grabbed ahold of the back of your shirt.

You and the boar had a short staring match. “Hmm, as much as I would love to spend more time with you Murro’s boar i’m sure my boyfriend is done with his match.” You said trying to tug the shirt from its mouth.

The boar refused turning it into a game of tug-a-war. “Let. go!” You huffed out fighting against the animal, you could hear the fabric starting to tear from you two pulling on it.

With one last tug you fell backwards, grunting in pain. It had a good chunk of fabric in its mouth as its trophy. You heard hurried footsteps. looking up you saw Murro. “I’m sorry! I didn't realize my boar had wandered away, forgive me!” He reached out to help you.

Unfortunately Naib had just arrived at the scene to see Murro’s boar with some of your shirt in its mouth, and Murro himself standing over you. In a moment a blade whizzed past, slicing Murro’s cheek causing him to fall on his butt in fear.

Looking behind you, he could see a very angry Naib hauling ass toward you all. In fear he quickly abandoned you. Hopping on his boar he left, running in the opposite direction.

Naib almost ran past you to chase Murro if you hadn’t gotten up quickly to grab the back of his shirt. “Wait, don’t chase after him!” You struggled to hold on to the man.

“I’ll gut him and that boar. How dare he sica damn animal on you.” His voice wasn't a shout but he was definitely furious. He was very strong actually draggjng you as he tried to pursue Murro.

You pull on his ponytail dragging his head back. “Hold your horses, who said anything about him siccing his boar on me?!” You let go of his hair as he stopped for a moment. “What do you mean, his boar was standing over you with some of your clothes in it mouth. How could that not be an attack on you?” He finally turned toward you head tilted slightly in confusion.

Sighing, you lightly pat Naib's cheek. “I wouldn't say it was an attack, I was originally playing with the boar. It only was trying to stop me from walking away, and Murro said he ran over after noticing it was gone.”

Naib’s eyebrows were still furrowed, eyes slightly closed, as of he was trying to see if you were lying for the sake of Murro. “Fine, I won't chase after him, for now.”

You grin pinching your lovers cheek. “Good! Now lets go inside you smell like shit” You say looping your elbow with his to lead him back to the manor. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever dear.”

Patricia Dorval

“Breaking wheel...! That son... sons? Of a bitch!” You say irritated, cursing his name to the sky quietly. He had been chasing you for most of the match before you lovely, kind, sweetheart patricia, took kite.

Inside your head you gushed about your girlfriend as you were trying to remove his spikes from not only your clothing but from your skin, as it had penetrated through the cloth into you.

Pulling them out was a huge pain, It hurt like hell. If only someone could help. You couldn't reach the ones in your back. Your mind drifted to Patricia as you pondered how her kite was going.

“You need help?” A raspy voice spoke out from behind you causing to yell and jump. Quickly turning around your faced wth the sneaky bastard who turned out to be Kreacher.

“Damn it Kreacher, you don't just sneak up on people like that!” You shout at the man hand over your heart. Other one raised as if you were going to hit him.

He back away from your shouts ready to coward out, and run away from your aggression. “Wait! Yes, I need help...” You say embarrassed about having to ask Kreacher of all people, to help you.

He was a little hesitant to come toward you, he had a sketical look toward you as you were just shouting but he did anyways. “Stay still and Ill get them removed” He said hand already painfully pulling one lodged in your back.

You try to hold in your pained shouts, refusing to show that this bothered you in front of Kreacher. They were pretty thin the spikes, but very sharp with tiny barbs that makes sense them hard to get from your skin.

Kreacher doesn't exactly have the gentlest hands while removing these from both your clothes and skin. You couldn't tell if he was trying to hurt you or help you.

“You could slow down damn it! Stop removing them fast you asshole, It hurts!” You hiss pulling away as he pulled another one carelessly out.

“Maybe if you could actually dodge breaking wheel..” You heard him mutter under his breath. “What did you just say!?” You say ticked off. “Nothing!!” He quickly says pulling one out to distract you.

He was pulling out the last one when both your hearts started to beat slightly, though it was barely anything to make you fret, polun didn't even know where you two were.

Coward freaking Pierson on the other hand grabbed ahold of the last spike dragging it down your back as he pulled away, bolting.

The specific spike he pulled was at the top so it tore all the way down, making the shirt go forward almost exposing if you hadn’t held it up with your hands. You grind your teeth slightly, turning to curse out to Kreacher.

As you turned your eyes met Patricia's, who had wacked Kreacher down with her ape skull, making his head bleed as he dizzily sat on the ground.

“Sorry I wasn't here sooner s/o, but at least I crushed this roach.” She said walking past him to you. She pecked you on the cheek getting her lipstick on your face, before looking at your back which was now exposed.

You had some blood drops rolling down from the sprike removals. She cut some more of your shirt so that she could tie a not in the back so it wouldn't fall off.

“I would take Kreachers jacket and give it to you, but I'd rather none of his filthy items touch you” She said as she gently caressed your back, careful of the small wounds.

You blushed at her caring gesture. “I should've warn a different costume one with a jacket, that's my bad.” She put her arms around your neck. “Well, I for one really like this costume, too bad it gonna be temporarily out of commission”

She makes it so hard for you not to swoon when shes this sweet. Kreacher groans reminding you two he was there.

Patricia unhooks her arms from around your neck. “Let's leave that thing and go decode the last cipher. Polun will find and kill it” She says loud enough for him to hear.

She grabs your hand pulling you away toward a cipher, while you follow her happily. Patricia was right about Kreacher as he was found & killed after Ganji led the hunter to him. At least the 3 of them escaped!

PLEASE I REALLY TRIED HARD TO MAKE THEM ALL SIMILAR LENGTH!! Hope you like this :3

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Probably should've posted this earlier but whatever I'm thinking of it now

(Pyro was, as far as I can tell, not wearing a costume in this comic and as such they have been omitted)

[ID: A collage of eight of the tf2 mercs, minus Pyro, and Miss Pauling as they appear in the comic Gargoyles and Gravel, each wearing the costumes described above. Scout is in a chicken suit with a red vest, Soldier is a robot made of cardboard, Demo is a werewolf, Heavy is Frankenstein's monster with stitching on his arms and head and bolts on his neck, Engie is a fly in a black turtleneck sweater with wings on the back, Medic is a mad scientist in a bow tie and a puffy white wig, Sniper is a vampire hunter with wooden stakes strapped to his vest, Spy is the Invisible Man with bandages wrapped around his head, and Pauling is wearing a purple trench coat, a green blouse, a black tie, and a Ghastly Gibus. End ID]

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

Article written by Ajda Gregorc, published in the November/December 2024 ELLE Slovenia Magazine. Print and digital versions of the magazine are available for purchase.

Scans and English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu and a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Full article translation, scans, and Spotify link are under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

With Kris Guštin, the music author and guitarist of Joker Out, we escaped to another side of music, and with that, to his other passion. We talked about style and everything connected to it. There will also be no shortage of this in the band's third album, titled 'Souvenir Pop', which is released on the 15th of November—one week after the issue of Elle you’re holding now. How perfectly synchronised we are!

PHOTOS URŠA PREMIK, STYLING ALENKA BIRK

At Ljubljana’s Moderna Café, on a fresh but lovely autumn Tuesday, when everyone’s still at work or in school, he arrives in a dark green jacket with a checkered pattern, awesome trousers, and her necklace. This time, the menu is not serving music and life, but matcha and "all things fashion." I’m in a regular trench coat and a white T-shirt, but luckily he doesn’t judge people by their style—instead, the style might be what piques his interest to converse, if it's good, of course. Besides, he's the one being interviewed. So, let’s begin! AJDA GREGORC

Interviewer: When did you first discover your personal style or the field of fashion? Was it in childhood or a bit later?

Kris: I roughly divide my life into two periods: before I first held a guitar, and after. When I really got into playing and ventured into music, my world opened up in all areas. Discovering fashion definitely falls into this second period, so the post-high school era. To be completely honest, my style in high school wasn’t something I’m particularly proud of today. (laughs) My girlfriend and I still have a photo of me wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which is a proof she truly loves me, since that look was far from the best choice. (laughs)

When did it evolve from just a aesthetic impression to self-expression?

My first contact with fashion as a form of art or expression was during our band's first music video or fashion shoot, when I realised that this is also something you need to consider as a musician. At first, it seemed to me like a fairly peripheral element, but as our career developed and we met new people who gave us more insight into this, I began to understand its significance, what I could personally gain from it, and what we as a band could gain. This quickly developed into standard practice. I was increasingly exposed to fashion; we had more and more costume rehearsals and stylings, and two years ago, we even got our first proper stylist. And then I really committed to it—at around nineteen or twenty. Before that, my philosophy was always to "just wear whatever I first find in the closet," but then I shifted to "I'll wear things that would make me stand out from others". But this process was a long one.

So, your style development with the band inspired your personal growth too? I’ve always wondered if a young person is compelled to mature in every area when so many 'big things' happen all at once, as they did for you.

Maybe you do "grow old" in terms of personality sooner. Yes, at first I wanted, and still want, to primarily express the difference or uniqueness that I feel inside myself through music, but then I discovered that this goes very much hand in hand with fashion, so I started looking for my expression there as well. Today, it's almost an equally important part of my day.

Which fashion ideas or directions attract you? You’ve probably encountered a lot of inspiration during your travels on tour, right?

Definitely, but speaking purely origin-wise, I think I’m just like any other rock musician—we draw from the rock aesthetic of the ’60s and ’70s, which was also very "in" when my fashion awareness was born. Back then, around 2016 to 2018, here were a lot of flamboyant shirts on the music scene, with a slight hippie influence, which was the starting point. Only later did I start getting interested in slightly more modern clothes. When I was younger, I found myself in street fashion, that sort of Eminem-esque, hip-hop vibe, so very baggy clothes, which I then began to reject when I made the shift toward the ’60s and a slightly psychedelic aesthetic. It makes perfect sense, as humans tend to jump between extremes. When I had worked through that style, I started discovering the aesthetics of the ’80s and late ’90s, which was also reflected in music at the time. The best example that comes to mind is Dua Lipa’s previous album, which was in the style of the “new ’80s,” and the fashion matched that as well. Today, the early 2000s style has come back, but I haven’t fully decided whether I like it or not. As a musician, I was, of course, initially inspired by other music groups. Arctic Monkeys were a big inspiration for us both musically and visually, as was the whole British rock scene, including bands like The Kooks and Oasis. That entire aesthetic has always been strongly present with us. I doubt there’s a single inspiration board at our shoots that doesn’t include a photo of one of those bands or, for instance, the Beatles. And that aesthetic has always been close to my heart, too.

Rockers have always been associated with more masculine fashion elements, while in recent years, many male musicians have been experimenting with more feminine style elements (for example, Harry Styles and Lenny Kravitz). David Bowie was already the one who back then started to blur these fashion boundaries. You, too, wear such pieces and dare to stand out with them.

It happened quite naturally, as the stylists we worked with always chose slightly more “unmanly” clothing for me. This doesn’t necessarily mean women’s clothing, but rather somewhat more androgynous pieces, which I quickly embraced. I found them interesting and appealing because there’s a lot of fresh expression in that style that I don’t find in traditional men’s clothing, though I don’t want to overdo it. I also started experimenting with them personally, choosing many more varied colours. For a while, I was very fond of pink, and lately, I’ve been playing around with orange. On the cover of the album 'Demoni', I wore an orange-pink sweater.

Are we, as an audience here, already mature enough for a musician to present his feminine side through fashion? Does that require courage?

It does, there will always be people who won’t understand you. But for me, when it comes to the stage or a shoot, I’ll wear anything, and if I feel good in it, I don’t worry about what someone thinks. When I walk around "in civilian clothes," however, especially in Ljubljana, I am still aware if I’m dressed somewhat "untraditionally." There’s a certain boundary that I still need to break within myself. On stage, it’s easier because it’s not necessarily a hundred percent my expression; I’m playing a certain character, but personally, sometimes I do need some courage to show up in a particular style. However, the awareness of being different is stronger in Ljubljana than in other parts of the Western world. For example, I never felt that way in London, but still, our capital isn’t the worst when it comes to this.

Speaking of influences, what about other artistic or cultural movements?

I love art deco, the aesthetics of the '20s and '30s, though it doesn’t influence my daily life. In terms of photography, Damon Baker’s black-and-white style is beautiful. The vintage camera aesthetic has recently won me over, which will also be reflected in our band. Musically, over the past year, I’ve been listening to old Italian chansons and older French music, chansons as well, so I’m clearly feeling very retro this year. (smile)

Will the third album visually stand out from the previous ones then?

Yes, it will be very different. In the last two, we used a lot of colours, but there won’t be as many in this one.

Style can be an excellent tool for expressing an artist's authenticity, but with increasing success, the artist can also become its slave; the line is thin. Do you ever feel the pressure of having to express your fashion style in your private life as well?

No, I’ve never felt like my style owns me; it’s always been the opposite. I’ve always felt like I want more, like I want to dress even better than the day before, especially when it comes to my music career. Perhaps style only hangs over my head a bit when I have no inspiration and would rather wear sweatpants on an ordinary, relaxed day. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but then I do think about what would happen if I ended up somewhere in the middle of the city dressed like that.

It seems that Joker Out has developed a distinct style despite outside influences.

Yes, today we are already very complete in our style. Others have definitely had an influence on us, and I think it’s great that each of them tried to express themselves through us – it was interesting to experience how Joker Out was seen by Ponorelli, and how Andraž Drobnič or Karlo Kirri did. Of course, there is a difference in this, but it also aligns with the development of our music and aesthetics, so all these influences are very welcome.

How much of your personal fashion identity is therefore reflected in Joker Out?

Maybe, as someone who is not an external observer, I can't answer that, but I can say that I was always one of the first to give feedback to the stylist when we were creating our outfits, approving moodboards, and so on. So, I have definitely shaped our style in a direction that suits me. On certain "blind stylings," when we just dressed up, I quickly threw something on myself and then helped look for pieces for the other band members.

What about this photoshoot, where Alenka Birk took over the styling? Did you let her take the lead with her tactics, or did you collaborate on fashion choices? How did the communication go?

I didn’t know Alenka, who, by the way, is an excellent stylist, before. She was recommended by Urša (the photographer, ed.). Later, she confided in me that she had also worked with my father. Alenka focuses on elegant men's fashion, which is a departure from this more fluid fashion; and this suited me because I had never really been photographed in a men's suit, jacket, and tie. I wanted to try something new. I hadn’t seen the outfits before the day of the photoshoot when we met in her small studio in the morning. There were nine of them in total, and we only swapped out a piece or two in at most three of the looks.

This is more of an exception than a rule in fashion photoshoots. Does that mean you felt good in them?

Yes. In some more so, obviously, but in others, you have to trust the people you're working with. When I first look in the mirror, I always keep in mind that if something isn't optimal, it doesn't mean it won’t work well on camera. Even if the pants are too short or creased, it's still worth photographing them, because the photo can be edited later, whereas on stage, it's a different story, and everything has to already be perfect in the mirror. Working with Alenka was very simple; we clicked really well, and I will definitely work with her again.

How linked are your confidence and the way you feel on stage with your styling?

Very connected. As a musician, you want to enjoy yourself as much as possible on stage, and the people who come to listen to you and pay for the ticket deserve to see you at your best, which means you have to feel good in every aspect.

You recently attended Ljubljana Fashion Week. Which of the local fashion designers do you like to follow?

As far as the Slovenian fashion scene is concerned, I’m still quite the beginner, so I only knew the designers we had worked with. This was my first time visiting the Fashion Week.

Which shows did you watch?

On the first day, all of them. I didn’t like everything, but what stuck in my mind was Sarivalenci¹ with their somewhat "country club", Lana Del Rey vibe, and golf moment. I also really enjoyed the Belgrade Fashion Week, as there was an obvious Balkan touch, which I would love to see more of in Slovenia.

¹Sarivalenci is a Slovene high fashion brand created by fashion designer Sari Valenci.

You are a fan of vintage clothes and second-hand shops. What do these pieces have for you that new ones don't?

Honestly, I don’t know if there’s an objective explanation why. I started getting into it because it was popular, and at the same time, it gives you the feeling of getting a more unique piece. At the same time, you're shopping sustainably and not contributing to the production of unnecessary new textiles on Earth, which is great, but I would be lying if I said that’s my main motivation. What I like the most is the experience of "flipping" through clothes, where each piece is different, like a treasure hunt, compared to regular stores where you "flip" through the same clothes in different sizes.

Did your mum, who comes from the Netherlands where people have been aware of this for many years, introduce you to this concept?

I wouldn’t say we talked much about it at home, but I literally lived it. This is probably true for Slovenians in general – almost all the clothes I had as a child were from older peers, or I would take something from my dad, too. When I was done with wearing the clothes, my brother would wear them too. Every piece of clothing that came into our house was passed around, which is a great practice, and it’s still like that today. My sister "stole" half of my sweaters, my mum sometimes takes something too, Maks borrows jackets from my dad, which I’ve also done myself. It's like we all share one big closet! (laughs)

So you have influenced each other’s style in your family, or rather, you still do so? Who has otherwise had the most influence on your style in the past, and who does today?

I don’t remember ever looking at my parents as role models in this regard, as I didn’t really think about it back then, but they definitely influenced me, at least subconsciously. When I see how my mom dresses today, I see parallels with my own style, so she probably did influence me, perhaps more than my dad. As for street style, which I mentioned at the beginning, it might have been inherited from my uncle, my aunt’s husband from the Netherlands, who wore loose sweaters and listened to hip hop. My mum also had an uncle from the Indonesian side of the family, whom I never met, but he was very eccentric. Some of his clothes made their way to us over the years, and when I looked at these pieces in the closet, I was fascinated by how they reflected his personality. Asian fashion became a bit closer to me because of this, and I might even explore it someday.

The heart necklace you wear all the time, even today, is from your girlfriend. Do you ever dress your girlfriend or does she dress you?

My girlfriend is very fashion-oriented and has played a big role in my fashion development. She has always encouraged me when I tried new clothes that, at the time, seemed more radical to me. In this way, she partially shaped me. We also really enjoy shopping together. She dresses me more often than I dress her, which means I ask her for opinion. There have also been times when we’ve dressed the same when it comes to basic pieces; we’ve never really styled each other, but there will probably be time for that in the future.

Where do you like to go for vintage pieces in Ljubljana? Did you find any gems while on tour across Europe?

Textile House Vintage Shop is, in my opinion, by far the best in Ljubljana. The next one is Humana on Stritarjeva street, where I find something every now and then. Abroad, we’ve visited many vintage shops in Dublin, Paris, and London. In the latter, I always go to Brick Lane, which is a street with vintage shops in the east side of central London, where the more hipster area starts. The downside is that it quickly becomes quite an expensive experience.

What kind of information can you deduce about a person based on what they’re wearing? Who, in your opinion, is truly well-dressed?

A person’s style is never a reason not to engage in conversation with them, but it is a very strong stimulator of my interest in that person. If I think someone is really well-dressed, I automatically assume they might think similarly to me and be interested in the same artistic, musical, or visual directions, so I’m more eager to talk to them. However, I’ve often met people who didn’t seem interestingly dressed, and later realised they were amazing people, even if they dressed completely casually.

Your audience expresses itself very differently in terms of fashion, as your parents also mentioned in a recent interview for Elle. How do you as a band perceive this?

Yes, what they meant was that it is no longer the case that you have to be "appropriately" dressed for a rock concert. When we observe the audience from the stage, I would say that the most typical thing for our time is that we are no longer genre-bound. Not just musically, but also in terms of fashion. 30 or 40 years ago, you would see people at a rock concert in leather jackets, black shoes, and jeans, and that was it. Today, you have flamboyant outfits with blue and green hair in one corner, gothic style in another, and of course, people in simple t-shirts and pants somewhere in the middle. And no one feels like they don’t belong; everyone sings our songs, and that’s really nice.

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❗Please do not repost without credit, and if you quote, please link back to this post!