#men's neck ties online

[johnbrand]

Man-Up Camp

With @gassydumbjocks

Just to make it clear, Joel had no problems with his son being gay. Tanner had grown up a decent young man, now almost 25 and working in the bioengineering field. But throughout his childhood and adolescence, Joel has fostered quite the effeminate son. It made no sense regarding Joel's background. Obsessed with sports, passionate about drinking beer, supporting his family through thick and thin. He was not conservative, but such a traditionally masculine man should not have reared the pinkest pony on the block.

Science and gender studies over business and sports management, Christina Aguilera over Garth Brooks. Heck, Joel had even been excited to have the talk with his son, but instead the discussion turned into Tanner explaining how bottoming worked! All Joel had wished for was a real man of a son, someone he could be proud of. So after hearing of a fantastical “Man-Up Camp”, Joel decided to send his son in. Tanner was almost past the point of young adulthood, so Joel did not want to waste any more time than necessary.

Everything happened fast after Joel’s payment had gone through. Tanner had exited the lab building for the night after a long day of research. Minding his own business and walking on the sidewalk while listening to the music, he had not even noticed when the camp's van suddenly pulled up beside him. Out hopped two burly men, and suddenly Tanner felt a sharp prickling in his neck followed by another in his side. Once out cold, the men were easily able to haul the twink into the van and head off to camp.

When Tanner eventually awoke, he was greeted by a taller lad with tanned skin, a beefy frame, and an already-noticeable obnoxious personality. The hunky man was only wearing some gym shorts, airing out his musk into the small, concrete room. 

"Wha…what’s going on?” Tanner’s high voice squeaked, noticing he was tied up. 

“Welcome to Man-Up Camp, bro!”

Within a moment’s notice, the jock approached and quickly shoved his victim’s head into one of the hairiest armpits Tanner had ever seen. After about 30 seconds, the jock released Tanner, revealing the twink’s sweat and funky grime-covered face.

"Thought you’d like that, sissy boy,” the jock taunted, motioning to Tanner’s small, erect dick before leaning in with a:

BOOUUUURRRPPP!

"Ugh, god..." Tanner grumbled as he swallowed the nasty smoke. Before he could recover, the jock had already turned around, raising a leg before grunting.

PPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!

The putrid smell dove right for Tanner, penetrating into his skin as it was absorbed. This process of funk exposure would continue for a few hours. The jock would go back and forth between all different methods of emanating stench, a way of directing pure masculine DNA.

As Joel had read online, the unadulterated toxicity would erode away at the drugged client, contaminating until their being was soaked in what was deemed as “undeniably alpha”. In the end, the trauma would restructure Tanner's memory to appropriate the results.

———

Nervously, Joel knocked on the door of his son’s apartment. Tanner had returned from the Man-Up Camp two days ago, but the program had advised not to visit clients for at least 48 hours to help solidify the marination process. Now, Joel stood before his decision, wracked with excitement and guilt. He had not agreed with all the program’s promises, including the conversion, but his desperation for a manly son sat stronger. Joel just hoped he had not gone too far.

“If it ain’t my old man!” A booming voice greeted from the entryway. For the first time ever, Joel had to look up to make eye contact with his son. “I was just about to leave for a game with the boys, wanna come?”

Joel took in his new son. Gone was the short flamboyant nerd; what now stood before him was the epitome of masculine identity. Tanner was tall, muscular, and hairy. Just by peering into the apartment, it was clear his priorities had shifted. While once impeccably decorated, Tanner’s home was now filled with cheap generic furniture, discarded takeout leftovers, and dirty clothes scattered across the floor.

After being blasted by the funk wave that emanated from his new son, Joel agreed to join him. In response through burps, Tanner spelt out a “G-R-E-A-T B-R-OURP!” right into his father’s face.

Over the rest of their time together, Joel simply sat on the sidelines studying this new man. He could not help but take in every inch of Tanner's physical and mental testosterone. The camo baseball hat, the scruffy beard, the lightly-dusted pecs, the massive dong swinging freely in the workout shorts, the giant shoes clomping around the court. His interactions too, chest-bumping his bros when he scored a point and blasting the losers with smelly butt bombs. Tanner had become a dumber, grosser, obnoxious, bigoted version of himself: Joel could not have been more proud of his success. 

“Yo Pops!” Tanner shouted, adjusting himself freely. “You ever gonna join us or you just gonna fag out over there?”

Joel laughed. This new rowdier, cockier Tanner was gonna take some time to get used to. Perhaps Joel would just have to man-up himself.

[mommyssluttt]

You see me in the woods from a distance but don’t pay much attention. Until suddenly I’m wearing a ghost face mask and coming really close. I’m gonna chase you around with a knife and finally catch you. Chloroform you until you pass out and you will wake up later with your clothes gone and in a bimbo like set of undies.

Tied up in a basement. There’s photos of you all over the wall. Photos of you from years ago. From college, from your office, from nights out and then you see it… Photos of you sleeping and looking so cozy and soft.

Photos of you where you suddenly feel so fucked up that someone was there and you didn’t even know and now that someone finally has you. You’re tied up in a dark room and dressed like a fucktoy. You feel so icky and gross.

Tears slowly start to form as you remember advice from your friends…

‘Don’t dress like a bimbo’

‘Don’t be a slut online’

And then you recall one friend who said

‘Someone will get you one day’ and that’s when the tears start to flow. You hear a door gently open and see the shape of a man. He’s 6 foot 4, muscular and broad shoulders. Wearing a ghost face mask and a blue tshirt and white pants. It’s the same guy you saw in the woods.

He stands in front of you and leans over you, touching your soft skin as you try to back away, making him chuckle. He speaks in the softest voice and says ‘finally, you’re here. This temple was built in your honour, little one. Don’t you like it?’ And he wipes your tears and forcibly makes you look again at photos he’s taken of you over the years. You can feel his bulge growing as he stands behind you, poking your ass which might as well be naked and exposed. You feel his hands groping your body and touching you all over inappropriately and you cry again.

‘Mister please.., please stop. I will forget and forgive it all. Just let me go. Please I’m begging…’

But he just shushes you and puts one arm around your neck and the other hand into your panties. ‘If you wanted to, you could’ve left you dumb little slut. You’re not really tied to anything. But I’m just making your fantasies come true aren’t I? You’re such a dumdum online and so fucking bold. Why are you crying now huh?? And look how fucking wet you are’. He brings his fingers, now coated in your juices to your mouth and you open it and stick out your tongue instinctively. The dumb little girl inside you somehow wants this, craves this. You taste your own juices off his fingers and enthusiastically suck them clean, wiggling your ass on his cock. Moaning softly as you do.

You feel your undies being slid to one side and suddenly feel his length pressing against you. You’re halfway between tears and pure unadulterated bliss and your pussy and brain aren’t in sync as you leak even more.

You feel him press against your pussy, halting at your entrance. You hear him grunt a little and say ‘Finally baby girl. After years of craving you, I can finally claim you.’

And with that, he gently thrusts into you. Using his height and strength he positions you and bends you over, making sure you can look at the one mirror in the room, holding your face and making you stare at yourself as his thick cock pushes into you.

Your pussy opens up and accepts its fate. Getting wetter and adjusting to his length and girth. You cry and moan at the same time, seeing the ghost face mask and feeling yourself grip on his dick as he moves inside you, thrusting deep and slow at first.

His other hand travels down your soft flesh touching you and groping you before settling on your hips as he increases his pace. The tears stop when you start to feel nothing but pleasure and your mind starts to break.

You’re still confused but now your pussy is clenching on him and you’re moaning and not crying anymore. Your hips move back on his cock as he violates you and uses you like you’ve never before been used.

Other men have bent you over, other men may have been inside you but this feels different. This, is surrender. And now your tears are those of joy as he growls and grunts and moans. His tip bruising your cervix as he gives you those last crucial strokes.

You start to cum on his thick cock, your body finally fully betraying you. Crying out as your orgasm hits, you feel him pick up his pace and become erratic. You half heartedly beg him to not creampie you, but you know he ain’t listening to you.

You now belong to him as his seed floods forward from his cock and into your womb. Settling warm and filling you up. It’s just Day 0 of being his little slave slut. And already you feel like this is where you were always meant to be. This is what your true purpose has always been. Being Ghostface’s Good Girl.

- T 😈😈😈

im gonna have so much fun to this when i get home, thank you anon😊

[graysnetwork]

Sub Moments...

Warnings: edging, whiney men, humping, handjob, rope/tied up men.

Summary: Title is self explanatory. Times the big tough men had a moment of weakness

༻━━━━༺❀༻━━━━༺

𝒦𝑒𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝑅𝓊𝓈𝓈

❀ Kept annoying you all day, so needy and desperate for release the second he got home from work. Stood behind you when you were cooking dinner, arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Kept kissing and sucking at your neck when you two sat on the couch and were watching movies. Kept rubbing up against your ass when you two were in the bathroom brushing your teeth getting ready for bed. It was absolutely annoying pathetic.

When you two were finally in bed he only wore boxers, kept rubbing his half hard cock against you, searching for any type of friction. You would have given into him had it been any other day, would’ve let him fuck you right then and there against the counter but your were so annoyed with his constant yammering.

That’s how you two ended here. You laid on your side watching Keegan grind against his pillow, pearly white beads of pre cum escaping the slit as he whined for you, to let him fuck you already. Poor annoying boy.

His whines and moans filled the room, his face pressed against the sheets as he rocked his hips against the pillow, grinding into the white foam pillow. “Please, please…please sweetheart” he whimpered, looking up at you with his baby blue eyes that suddenly don't look as serious as they usually do. He gave you the kicked puppy eyes but you didn’t give in. “Keep humping your pillow keeg’s”

Keegan whined and sniffled in response but he didn’t protest, he kept rubbing his red cock against the pillow until he reached his climax—white ropes of cum spurted out, staining the pillow with white streaks. “Good boy” you coo, stroking his hair.

Another, final rope of cum shoots out as he whines.

𝒮𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 '𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉" 𝑅𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓎

❀ He was quiet all day, not unusual since Simon was always pretty silent. But today he was touchy, hugging you a lot, holding your hand while shopping, letting you use his card for online shopping without having to do something for him—usually he liked to give you a challenge, eg. putting the card somewhere high, hiding it, making you do the dishes. Not today.

That in itself was weird enough but you came to the conclusion that he wanted something in return—wash the dishes, make his favorite food, or maybe he wanted you. You almost forgot about it until you two sat on the couch to watch movies. The movie started and you two got comfortable, you were so entranced by the movie, forgetting about his clinginess completely you didn’t pay attention to Simon who was shifting on the couch every other second.

Once you did notice, a hint of pride coursed through your veins, making you smirk knowing he was uncomfortable and needy. You looked over at him, he looked both relieved and annoyed you couldn't see his crotch due to the pink throw blanket covering the both of you. “More?” you asked, holding the popcorn bowl and candy out for him to grab some. He shook his head, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

It was dark in the house, you’d turned off a lot of the lights for the movie but you could see the cherry red tint on his cheeks.

After a few moments you pushed the blanket off of yourself, “accidentally” pulling it off of Simon as well. “Si…” you said softly, playing dumb like you hadn’t known about his hard on the entire time. You stared at his crotch, a tent in the shorts he was wearing. “Need you, love” he growls, wrapping his large hand around your neck, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You let him have his moment of dominance and control for a little while.

Now you sit beside a whiny Simon, his hips bucking up into your hand. He was so desperate to come but you were setting a torturously slow speed as you stroked him. The dominant side of him was hidden away, exposing his submissive vulnerable side as you jerked him off, telling him how pathetic he was for being so hard for no reason.

He whimpered as your hand squeezed his cock gently enough not to actually hurt him, but enough to hurt him in the way he couldn't cum. Despite his whines and whimpers he was definitely enjoying this—you being in control. If he wasn’t enjoying it he would've taken over, he was a big guy, could and would manhandle you all the time. He could have thrown you over his shoulder right now and taken you to the bedroom. 

“Please…” “Please what?” “Need to come, love” “You think you deserve to come?”

Only after the movie was finished did you let him come.

𝒦ö𝓃𝒾𝑔

❀ It’d only been a few days since he was back home and you two were on the road to having a baby. It was almost as if König’s horny switch was flipped on when he stepped through the door. Every other second not spent out you two were consummating it everywhere.

After three days of being thrown around and manhandled how you liked you wanted to be the one in control, and plus, you were a little tired of fucking all day, you wanted to make something to eat right now.

So, you scoured the closet and found the ropes in the box of…things you two used. “Königgg!” you called out and he was quick to find you when he realized you were in the bedroom. His cock jumped when he saw you wrapping the rope around the bed posts. “What are you planning, schatz…?” he whispered into your ear from behind you, his hands holding your waists.

“Something” You smirked, he obviously thought you wanted to be tied up but oh was he going to be surprised to find out he's the one who will be restrained. “Get on the bed, honey.”

König is red in the face when you finish tying his ankles to the two posts at the end of the bed, his dick is hard and ready for you to do whatever you'd like, until you do very little.

A little lube, a few strokes, one lick on the underside of his cock and you're done.

You leave him in the room first for a few minutes, change your shirt and leave again. You make dinner and eat, you come back and feed him some before leaving again. You come back and get into your sleepwear, kiss him a bit, stroke him a little until he's leaking pre cum. You leave again.

Another hour goes by and you can hear his mewls and whines. “Please, Schatz, just use me, do whatever, please let me come” he sniffles. You smiled, stroking him again. Finally taking him into your mouth but denying his release. Then you lay back, talk to him about how annoying his whines are, you leave him untouched for another hour.

When you finally do lick his tip again, he comes instantly, his sticky come shooting into your mouth.

༻━━━━༺❀༻━━━━༺

[vincentbriggs]

Good sir, I am hoping to pick your brain. I’m making an 18-century (“pirate”) shirt as a gift to my friend. He wants tie closures on the neck and cuffs instead of buttons. Might you have any insight or resources for this? I’ve seen the ties in at least one of the extant shirts I’ve viewed online. I’m still pretty new to the sewing gig and I’d like to minimize inventing metaphorical wheel as much as possible. Thanks in advance!

It's very unusual, but do know of one example! (Not that extant one though)

But first - Link to my most thorough shirt construction blog post. (It's a few years old and I've improved a few little things in my technique since then, and I mean to finish writing a new and better one before the year is over.)

Ok, ties on shirts! I'm assuming this is the extant one you're talking about? Tbh I'd discount this one entirely if you're looking for information on 18th century men's shirts because I don't think it is one.

Besides the attached ties, the sleeves are extremely weird. They're cut off and have no wristbands!! This would make it quite impossible to wear under a coat, the wristbands are an absolutely essential part of an 18th century shirt. I also don't see any reason to believe this is actually 18th century when it could just as easily be 19th century, and considering how short the slit is I think that more likely.

(Lots of auction sellers like to say "late 18th century" about things that are like... yeahh maaaaybe that's plausibly from a very fashion forward guy in the late 1790's but it's much more likely early 19th century. And with court dress they sometimes just straight up date it several decades too early. Look at lots of examples and always question everything, because museums don't always date things correctly either.)

I think I remember seeing someone mention once that it was a 19th century workman's garment of some sort, but I can't remember where, and all we've got to go on are a few pictures and a brief caption from a seller who doesn't know what they're talking about. It does look like it could have been worn over another layer though, and the fabric is very coarse. It could also have been altered at a later date for theatrical costume, which is something the Victorians did to A LOT of 18th century garments.

So just ignore that shirt!

The vast majority of 18th century mens shirts close with 2 or 3 buttons on the collar, but there is a style that uses ribbons. It appears to have been fairly common in the late 17th and early 18th century, and then slowly dwindles as the century goes on. I have a section for it on my shirts pinterest board with 64 examples. Ooh, wait, 65, just found a new one.

The collar is made with little to no overlap and one buttonhole on each end, and a ribbon is threaded through them.

Portrait of Carl Gustaf Tessin, 1728.

Sir Charles Howard, 1738.

I actually made one of these last year!

The collar doesn't sit as well with the ribbon as it does with 2 buttons, but once you put a stock over it it's fine.

Nearly every single depiction of an 18th century shirt I've ever seen (and I've spent a LOT of time looking) uses sleeve links on the wristbands. (Which I have a tutorial for! They're really easy to make!) I do sleeve links on most of my everyday shirts because I like them better than sewn on buttons. When the wristband is this narrow, sewn on buttons don't sit very nicely.

But! If your friend wants ties on the wrist in a historical way, I do know of one single example, and it's this guy!

Giovanni Maria delle Piane, Portrait of a nobleman. No date given, but if I had to guess I'd say 1680's or 90's. Very late 17th century looking fellow.

We can't see his collar closure, but I think it's very possible that he has a matching red ribbon holding that closed.

Personally I wouldn't want to try these, because they look like an absolute nightmare to tie by yourself one handed. But the good news is that you could make just regular wristband that take sleeve links and they'd work for this too, since both just have a buttonhole at each end! I aim for a finished wristband length that's 10-14mm longer than my wrist measurement, with the buttonhole being about 4 or 5mm in from the edge, which gives me enough ease to wear them comfortably with sleeve links, so if you do that then he'll be able to wear them both ways.

[bubuslutty]

40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc. 

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?” 

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.” 

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..” 

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?” 

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.” 

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice. 

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!” 

He was good. Really good.  

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.” 

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily. 

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link. 

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?” 

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.” 

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!” 

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style. 

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

[konigsblog]

ghost x singer!f!reader

masterlist

requested by anonymous

warnings: kidnapping, possessiveness, reader doesn't like ghost, ghost makes reader uncomfortable, security

im not sure whether ill make this a mutli-parter, im not sure this is good. but please tell me if you want more.

simon was assigned as a security guard for a famous singer, known online as [stage name] and offline as [name], both men and women fell head over heels for her beauty. which led you to have security guards beside you everywhere you went. one of these guards was simon, who never failed to be there.

he was a bit off though, his kindness for you showed because you could tell how rough and cold he was with everyone else. but with you? he was soft and charming, yet a bit of a creep.

the comments he made, about taking you in as his own. "i always have to guard you everywhere, you'd be safer if you just lived with me." he chuckled, you tensed up but laughed back, awkwardly though. it wasn't uncommon for him to make these comments, whether it be; "i should just chain you to me." or "you don't need anyone but me." it creeped you out.

you never said anything about it, not realizing the true intentions he had, not realising that you'd be chained up against a wall, and a weight chained to your ankle.

the light burned your eyes as you woke up, your fight or flight instincts kicked in as you realized that you didn't know where you were. you began panting as fear took over your body, you froze in fear as the door creamed open and heavy boots came down the stairs.

a familiar voice came from the tall, broad man wearing a skull balaclava. "i told you that you'd be better with me. i warned you." the soft and calm voice was replaced with a gruff, low and spine-chilling tone. "s-simon?! what the fuck?! let me go." pleading and begging with him, screaming for him to let you go. "no, no, no love. please understand, i'm not gonna hurt you, can you not tell? i love you." his voice was back to hushed and gentle. the way you would talk to a baby that's going to fall asleep. his massive hands grabbed the back of your neck and pulled his mask up, pulling you in for a kiss, you whined, a choked sob muffled as his lips pressed against yours.

disgust washed over you, never would you imagine being chained to a wall in your body guards basement, this man was supposed to protect you. it seemed you both had different ideas of protection though. "please, simon, p-please ..." you begged, mewled and weeped. your head felt dizzy and your muslces felt week. you noticed that your throat felt strained, and sore.

"i wanna go back, i- fuck please, simon..." nothing could budge this man, he cupped your face, you spat at him. "fuck you." his face contorted into a saddened one, then angry. "lovie, i'm not here to hu-" you cut him off. "i'll never fucking like you?! get that through your fucking thick skull." you choked out, as your head fell, tears falling down your cheeks and you avoided his hands.

even if he got on one knee, you wouldn't like him. this wasn't what you wanted, you wanted to sing, sing to your fans and be on stage. not in some dirty basement.

before your knew it, his hand twisted into a fist as he knocked you out. whines that filled the room fell and gave the room a deafening silence and a deathly aroma.

*****

your eyes flickered open, feeling yourself in a different position, you were surrounded by pillows and blankets, a body laid beside you and your wrists tied to the bed. another wave of nausea came back, as you felt a panic attack coming on, he was asleep. a knife in his hand grazed across your thigh. why did he have a knife? he was gonna hurt you.

as your breath started to speed up, it alerted simon. he scanned his surroundings, before his eyes laid on yours, making a fierce eye contact, his other hand reached across to turn the lamp on. your tear stained-bloodied face was wet with a mixture of blood, sweat and tears.

you knew there would be no escaping from him by asking, so you had to plan an escape. he doted over you, his hands roaming your body, hushing your demands and pleas. tehh fell to deafs ears as he held you. "let me love you, please."

you would never love him, no matter what.

idk if this is good or not, i haven't slept still but i can't sleep, give me criticism and if you want more please request more.

[meowmeowriley]

@27potatochips have a lil snackie. I'll post more when I'm not at work.

Small snippet of Outlaw Outta Time

***

"Ah'm gonna kill you. Nice and slow, ah'm gonna stab ye in the stomach and split ye open. Gut ye like an animal!" Is what he would've said if he hadn't been bound and gagged, then tossed on the back of a horse.

This was perhaps the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to Soap, and he'd been through resistance training. There was just something so intensely upsetting about being caught unawares by a man with a fucking lasso. Then to be hog tied of all fucking things. Soap was seeing red. Both because of his temper and the red cloth tied around his eyes. the gag had been introduced when Soap refused to stop hurling insults at the man. It didn't stop him, just made it even harder to understand than his accent normally did. Every bump or jump from the horse jostled him, further rising him up. He'd been backhanded three times already for his racket, and he aimed to have a concussion by the end of this. Maybe if he were lucky he'd forget it even happened.

"Charles? That you? The hell you got there?" A southern American drawled. He couldn't place where the other was from, but definitely also American.

"Arthur. Caught him snooping around. I'm bringing him back to Dutch." Charles, Arthur, Dutch. Soap mentally cataloged the names. These guys weren't professionals, if they were so happy to sling their own names around so easily. That made his capture all the more maddening.

"Hold on." The southerner spoke again. Soap could hear him urging his horse closer. "Native hairstyle? What're the chances he's Scottish?"

"Thought he was Irish. Belligerent. Like Sean." Soap was abso-fuckin-lutely fuming.

"Can you keep a secret?" There was no verbal response, Soap assumed Charles had nodded, Arthur continued. "Think he belongs to my friend. Toss him on my horse or follow me." These guys were in for a rude awakening the second Soap got away. He didn't belong to anybody. He was going to make sure that they were aware of that.

He did his best to count the turns in the road, the minutes as they passed by, the ways he could potentially murder these two for his humiliation. He listened intently to the conversation between the two men, trying to pick out more information.

He could hear a man laughing and speaking animatedly. His accent was... fucking weird. Soap had only heard someone speak like that in old timey black and white movies. Arthur whistled and then called out "This yours?" Soaps temper flared and he began thrashing about, spewing insults as he writhed. If they were gonna man handle him off this horse he was going to make it as difficult as humanly possible.

His blindfold was removed and he blinked. Thankfully they were in relatively dense forest and his eyes didn't have to readjust to see his cap- his husband? That was absolutely his husband. In his anger he'd forgotten he technically did belong to someone. Simon. He stopped yelling into his gag, stopped thrashing about as he took in the sight of the love of his life. Simon had gone native, it seemed, dressing like the man who'd captured Soap, though it being Simon, he was in all black. A skull print bandana covered his lower jaw, but his eyes sparkled with mirth as he smiled down at Soap from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.

"How'd you do that? He stopped?" Charles was bewildered.

Simon removed the gag from Johnny's mouth and leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips. The angle was awkward, with Soap having to lean his head back as far as it would go, but damn he'd missed him. It was worth a crick in his neck. When Simon eventually leaned back to get some air, Soap's mouth caught up with him before his brain was really back online. "Those chaps assless?" He knew his smile was dopey, but he couldn't care less.

"All chaps are assless, Johnny." Right. He knew that. Totally. Shit Simon looked good. Who knew Soap was gonna develop a cowboy kink?

[naughtybabysdesires]

Ghostface’s Girl

I’m gonna chase you around with a knife and finally catch you. Chloroform you until you pass out and you will wake up later with your clothes gone and in a bimbo like set of undies. Tied up in a basement. There’s photos of you all over the wall. Photos of you from years ago. From college, from your office, from nights out and then you see it… Photos of you sleeping and looking so cozy and soft. Photos of you where you suddenly feel so fucked up that someone was there and you didn’t even know and now that someone finally has you. You’re tied up in a dark room and dressed like a fucktoy. You feel so icky and gross.

Tears slowly start to form as you remember advice from your friends…

‘Don’t dress like a bimbo’

‘Don’t be a slut online’

And then you recall one friend who said

‘Someone will get you one day’ and that’s when the tears start to flow. You hear a door gently open and see the shape of a man. He’s 6 foot 4, muscular and broad shoulders. Wearing a ghost face mask and a blue tshirt and white pants.

He stands in front of you and leans over you, touching your soft skin as you try to back away, making him chuckle. He speaks in the softest voice and says ‘finally, you’re here. This temple was built in your honour, little one. Don’t you like it?’ And he wipes your tears and forcibly makes you look again at photos he’s taken of you over the years. You can feel his bulge growing as he stands behind you, poking your ass which might as well be naked and exposed. You feel his hands groping your body and touching you all over inappropriately and you cry again.

‘Mister please.., please stop. I will forget and forgive it all. Just let me go. Please I’m begging…’

But he just shushes you and puts one arm around your neck and the other hand into your panties. ‘If you wanted to, you could’ve left you dumb little slut. You’re not really tied to anything. But I’m just making your fantasies come true aren’t I? You’re such a dumdum online and so fucking bold. Why are you crying now huh?? And look how fucking wet you are’. He brings his fingers, now coated in your juices to your mouth and you open it and stick out your tongue instinctively. The dumb little girl inside you somehow wants this, craves this. You taste your own juices off his fingers and enthusiastically suck them clean, wiggling your ass on his cock. Moaning softly as you do.

You feel your undies being slid to one side and suddenly feel his length pressing against you. You’re halfway between tears and pure unadulterated bliss and your pussy and brain aren’t in sync as you leak even more.

You feel him press against your pussy, halting at your entrance. You hear him grunt a little and say ‘Finally baby girl. After years of craving you, I can finally claim you.’

And with that, he gently thrusts into you. Using his height and strength he positions you and bends you over, making sure you can look at the one mirror in the room, holding your face and making you stare at yourself as his thick cock pushes into you.

Your pussy opens up and accepts its fate. Getting wetter and adjusting to his length and girth. You cry and moan at the same time, seeing the ghost face mask and feeling yourself grip on his dick as he moves inside you, thrusting deep and slow at first. His other hand travels down your soft flesh touching you and groping you before settling on your hips as he increases his pace. The tears stop when you start to feel nothing but pleasure and your mind starts to break.

You’re still confused but now your pussy is clenching on him and you’re moaning and not crying anymore. Your hips move back on his cock as he violated you and uses you like you’ve never before been used. Other men have bent you over, other men may have been inside you but this feels different. This, is surrender. And now your tears are those of joy as he growls and grunts and moans. His tip bruising your cervix as he gives you those last crucial strokes.

You start to cum on his thick cock, your body finally fully betraying you. Crying out as your orgasm hits, you feel him pick up his pace and become erratic. You half heartedly beg him to not creampie you, but you know he ain’t listening to you. You now belong to him as his seed floods forward from his cock and into your womb. Settling warm and filling you up. It’s just Day 0 of being his little slave slut. And already you feel like this is where you were always meant to be. This is what your true purpose has always been.

Omg, this is so hot 🥺

[darkfantasyprincess23]

You see me in the woods from a distance but don’t pay much attention. Until suddenly I’m wearing a ghost face mask and coming really close. I’m gonna chase you around with a knife and finally catch you. Chloroform you until you pass out and you will wake up later with your clothes gone and in a bimbo like set of undies.

Tied up in a basement. There’s photos of you all over the wall. Photos of you from years ago. From college, from your office, from nights out and then you see it… Photos of you sleeping and looking so cozy and soft.

Photos of you where you suddenly feel so fucked up that someone was there and you didn’t even know and now that someone finally has you. You’re tied up in a dark room and dressed like a fucktoy. You feel so icky and gross.

Tears slowly start to form as you remember advice from your friends…

‘Don’t dress like a bimbo’

‘Don’t be a slut online’

And then you recall one friend who said

‘Someone will get you one day’ and that’s when the tears start to flow. You hear a door gently open and see the shape of a man. He’s 6 foot 4, muscular and broad shoulders. Wearing a ghost face mask and a blue tshirt and white pants. It’s the same guy you saw in the woods.

He stands in front of you and leans over you, touching your soft skin as you try to back away, making him chuckle. He speaks in the softest voice and says ‘finally, you’re here. This temple was built in your honour, little one. Don’t you like it?’ And he wipes your tears and forcibly makes you look again at photos he’s taken of you over the years. You can feel his bulge growing as he stands behind you, poking your ass which might as well be naked and exposed. You feel his hands groping your body and touching you all over inappropriately and you cry again.

‘Mister please.., please stop. I will forget and forgive it all. Just let me go. Please I’m begging…’

But he just shushes you and puts one arm around your neck and the other hand into your panties. ‘If you wanted to, you could’ve left you dumb little slut. You’re not really tied to anything. But I’m just making your fantasies come true aren’t I? You’re such a dumdum online and so fucking bold. Why are you crying now huh?? And look how fucking wet you are’. He brings his fingers, now coated in your juices to your mouth and you open it and stick out your tongue instinctively. The dumb little girl inside you somehow wants this, craves this. You taste your own juices off his fingers and enthusiastically suck them clean, wiggling your ass on his cock. Moaning softly as you do.

You feel your undies being slid to one side and suddenly feel his length pressing against you. You’re halfway between tears and pure unadulterated bliss and your pussy and brain aren’t in sync as you leak even more.

You feel him press against your pussy, halting at your entrance. You hear him grunt a little and say ‘Finally baby girl. After years of craving you, I can finally claim you.’

And with that, he gently thrusts into you. Using his height and strength he positions you and bends you over, making sure you can look at the one mirror in the room, holding your face and making you stare at yourself as his thick cock pushes into you.

Your pussy opens up and accepts its fate. Getting wetter and adjusting to his length and girth. You cry and moan at the same time, seeing the ghost face mask and feeling yourself grip on his dick as he moves inside you, thrusting deep and slow at first.

His other hand travels down your soft flesh touching you and groping you before settling on your hips as he increases his pace. The tears stop when you start to feel nothing but pleasure and your mind starts to break.

You’re still confused but now your pussy is clenching on him and you’re moaning and not crying anymore. Your hips move back on his cock as he violates you and uses you like you’ve never before been used.

Other men have bent you over, other men may have been inside you but this feels different. This, is surrender. And now your tears are those of joy as he growls and grunts and moans. His tip bruising your cervix as he gives you those last crucial strokes.

You start to cum on his thick cock, your body finally fully betraying you. Crying out as your orgasm hits, you feel him pick up his pace and become erratic. You half heartedly beg him to not creampie you, but you know he ain’t listening to you.

You now belong to him as his seed floods forward from his cock and into your womb. Settling warm and filling you up. It’s just Day 0 of being his little slave slut. And already you feel like this is where you were always meant to be. This is what your true purpose has always been. Being Ghostface’s Good Girl.

- ⭐️⭐️

Maybe then I'll finally be a good girl. Oghh this story makes me tingle so much

I can't say for sure if I would scream loudly or if my mouth would just fall open

and or uhhmm ohaa I have goosebumps, more please please please please!!!

[pansyboybloom]

Wait so I'm confused here so bear with me; That post about the tmra thing, what is your stance on trans men talking about the issues affecting them specifically? I'm genuinely asking, cos it doesn't seem clear where you stand on this or how you view folks talking about trans man/masc issues specifically.

I know that seems weird to ask but I'm now so cautious in online trans space cos I apparently "don't have it as bad as a trans women" whenever I talk about my experience in the health sector dehumanising me and with queer spaces demonising me as a trans man or overall men or attractions to them, which just hurts because we have our unique issues. I'm just trying to understand what you feel.

You're welcome to ignore this if you want. /gen

this got soooo long im so sorry, but i wanted to give you a genuine answer so here we go!

so the person i was vauging about is a proud mra, like. 2014 men's right's activist opinions. obv im not gonna post his URL bc im not about that kind of life, but it's Bad. like, i 'explicitly hate women and im blaming them for the patriarchy hurting me, esp trans women' bad. the dude is a total douche.

now, as for us talking about our issues-- disclaimer here, i'm a white, gay, relatively gnc trans man who lives in the southern USA and passes well and im using that as my jumping-off point. I've been reading into some theory lately (whipping girl is great so far), but this is mostly my own experiences, not theory, based. I've mentioned it before, but i don't believe in misandery, and in that vein, i think that makes the concept of 'transmisndry/androphobia' misguided. in my interpretation of my transness, as someone who's lived as a woman for 19 years and a man for 5, I'm not facing discrimination for gaining manhood, but instead for losing womanhood. I'vd talked about that here and here, in reference to this quote but here are the highlights that are related to my opinion on being punished for leaving womanhood

trans men, on the other hand, are reaching for that 'ideal'[malehood]. we are trying to leave behind the despised and weak [womanhood], and that's so silly, so pathetic, you stupid little girl, you really think you can be the top in society? that's why radfems and similar 'feminists' say we are betraying our sex; they see it as leaving behind safety (women) for the enemy (men). to them, we are leaving them to rot in alone womanhood while we try to become the privileged ones stepping on their necks. this is also why the narrative surrounding trans women is predatory and sexual-- women only have power through sex, so a man would only want to leave manhood for sexual gratification-- while the narrative for us is that we are pathetic and tricked. women are stupid and delusional if they believe they could ever leave behind our oppression for privilege

and

that's why i don't see me being discriminated against as a trans man as something uniquely tied to anti-maleness / misandery/ androphobia / etc, but instead, just a facet of transphobia and misogyny (as well as ableism and such for me personally, but im talking bigger picture). I'm seen as a ruined woman because i betrayed gender roles. to them, im not transitioning because i am, ya know, actually a man, instead, i'm purposefully clawing my way out of the pit and hightailing it to the top, which is threatening. society doesn't like when women (trans men) are suddenly trying to be a class that is protected and privileged. im not transitioning to get access to privilege, but that's what it looks like to a transphobe, be them conservative man or radfem. im scary because im rocking the boat, not because im masculine, and they hate me because im showing their binary and hierarchy are false, not because im masculine. im stupid and delusional and a failure and a silly little girl and a bamboozled idiot tricked by trans women as well as a ruined woman and a rotten woman because of misogynistic binary power structures, not because im a dude. ya know? anyways, what holds me back is the gender binarist, cissexist, transphobic, and misogynistic stew that affects all trans people, just differently on a systemic and individual level

but i dont want people to think that we don't face our own issues. for example-- despite being on t for like 5 fucking years, I've had my period come back multiple times after switching back to gel. i panicked and went to a doc the 1st time, worried i was idk, dying, and she blew me off as not knowing my body and being hysterical. now do i think this was because i was trans? yes. do i think it was because i was a trans man? yes. but not because of the man part, but because of the 'was a woman' part. this doc was not seeing emil, the man, she was seeing emil, the stupid little girl who is playing pretend, and as such she treated me with the same disrespect she would a cis woman, just with different pronouns. I've found that most discrimination i have faced has more to do with people still seeing me as a woman and treating me as such, even when i pass and am very clearly a man.

now, do i think masculinity in the queer community is seen as bad? to an extent, yes, but i think that comes from gender essentialism more than any kind of misandry. butch women are abandoning 'the right kind' of womanhood, so they're bad. masc nb people, gnc people, and masc men are leaving behind the 'palatable' version of queerness that is, for lack of a better word, tied to femininity from a binarist and essenalist viewpoint. this femininity is an insult, wrong, so it is expected of queer people. this femininity is fake, easily dominated, flimsy, and docile in the eyes of a binarist and essentialist society. so queer people, who must be fake, easily dominated, flimsy, and docile to be safe for cishet society, must not be masculine. and like i said, even then it has to be the right kind of femininity. just ask any femme lesbian or trans woman or gnc trans man, like i am. we are punished for being feminine 'wrong' -- i could talk about this for hours, but i won't take up too much of your time haha. basically, i think that masculinity is punished in the queer community not bc of misandry/androphobia but because in the queer community, masculinity is being practiced in a way that breaks the norms we have internalized. it alllll comes back to the binary, gender essentialism, and misogyny.

obviously, my opinion is not the end all be all, and i welcome other takes and thoughts, (esp on this ask haha), but when it comes to other trans men, the insistence that a) misandry/androphobia/male oppression is real b) trans women are the cause of the problem or bad for calling us out when we say something gross and c) we don't need to do any soul searching on our own binarist, essentialist, or (trans)misogynistic thoughts, are when i have a problem. not when trans men want to talk about the oppression they face. i should be able to talk about that doctor's appointment, and you should be able to talk about your life experiences! just be sure not to fall into any internalized bigotry unintentionally in the process.

does that help? pls let me know if it does or doesn't, if it doesn't id love to dm and chat more

[blubushie]

Hello Blu

In my cycle of projects, I am back at designing your dragon, and I have more questions to pester you with

Specifically, I was wondering about uhhhh paints and colours. For the dot tattoos on the wings.

I could just... look it up. I mean, I did. But aboriginal folks and cultures aren't a monolith and so much of the information online treats them as such. And I don't want to know about vague facts, I want the specifics. So I'm asking you.

Are there certain meanings/guidelines to follow colour wise? Should I avoid using certain colours, or patterns? I have read that yellow is associated with womens bussiness, black with mens, and white with sorry business. I have... no clue if any of that is right.

Do you want me to use ochre paint colours exclusively? Or could I expand the colour palette to include more greens and blues? Or are you indifferent?

I know circles are a common theme, but are there other patterns?

I am also curious about the specific shades of colours you had applied to you during your ceremony. Could you use the colour picker below and give me HEX codes of the colours used?

https://colors-picker.com/color-picker-color-converter-hex-rgb-hsl-cmyk-codes/

Also also, I want to add patterns of Ngalmudj along the dorsal frills. Any specific colours or features I should use to depict her?

Smooches

Yes black is good! When I completed my Walk I was painted with a lot of black, blue on my face, neck, and shoulders, purple down my stomach, and red around my groin. White is used for corroboree but that's because it's actually tied to spirits, no sorry business. We just paint with white for sorry ceremonies like funerals because of the symbolism with spirits. Marrkidjbu paints his entire face white.

Colour symbolism as goes:

White: This is the most important colour to my mob, as Kakadu has the whitest clay in all of Australia. It's thought to be Ngalmudj's faeces and so this clay is handled very carefully so as not to disturb her. This colour is associated with Ngalmudj (coming directly from her) and with spirits, as it's the colour of stars. #fff7ed

Yellow: This is commonly associated with women's business but isn't purely associated with that. Yellow in ceremony that isn't women's business is used to symbolise the markings on the back of Ngalmudj, and so yellow is usually applied in long wavy streaks down the back. #f0c741

Black: Comes from coal and is used for men's business, but is also just the colour of people (because of the dark skin). It can specifically be for men, but it's also just colour used for people in general. This is the colour I'd use for any marking on the dragon. #121110

Red: Colour of war, but also ceremony and celebration, and motherhood. When I completed my Walk I had red painted around my groin to tie me to the blood of the mother who birthed me (I was painted with black streaks on my arms to symbolise the father who raised me as well). After my Walk the red paints were the only ones that weren't scrubbed away. When I got my first buffalo kill Jacko streaked my chin and cheeks with its blood to celebrate. After a successful hunt of a particularly difficult target animal I'll still streak my chin with the blood to celebrate and let it wear off on its own. It's a way of paying respect to the animal as well. Put up a good fight, mate. #6e2213

Blue/turquoise: I have no idea what this symbolises and I don't know where the Marrkidjbu got it as (far as I know) there's no lapis deposits in Kakadu. I've never seen blue used before or since in any ceremony, Jacko didn't get blue paint, and I'm inclined to think that the Marrkidjbu chose blue specifically because of what the colour symbolises to me. Definitely came from some kind of stone as it was a grainy powder. #0c5f6e

Purple: No clue where the Marrkidjbu got this neither. He only used is as a blend for the blue on my chest to branch down to the red at my groin. I have no idea what it symbolises, it anything. #493f5e

As for patterns, it's mostly lines, swirls, and dots. Care has to be taken not to break white lines as this is considered offensive to spirits and they'll come kick your arse. During corroboree when everyone's dancing about you keep an eye on your mates and if a white line is broken you apply ochre again to keep the spirits from getting aggro over the offence. My mob specifically uses white more than I reckon other mobs would and leans heavily into the spiritual symbolism of that over it being strictly relegated to sorry business. It's the colour you see most during corroboree.

As for Ngalmudj, it's generally accepted that she has kangaroo's ears, a downward-curved horse's head (think a highblood Arabian) with a fanged mouth, a snake body, crocodile-like scutes down her back, a spiked tail, and... tendrils? She's thought to have trailing tendrils. When I saw her she was just, quite literally, a giant snake. A beautiful giant snake, with iridescence that reflected colours I couldn't even possibly describe, but a giant snake. And her eyes were yellow, if that counts for anything. To me she was just a giant, very beautiful (what looked to be) white-lipped python, minus the white lips.

Meanwhile Jacko has a hypothesis that when Ngalmudj first appeared to humans, she took the form of a ribboned pipefish, which would explain a lot of her characteristics.

Now for symbols!

[beardedmrbean]

Pro-Palestinian groups at Harvard University, including one comprising faculty and staff, reignited the controversy over campus antisemitism over the long weekend when they posted an antisemitic cartoon on their social media accounts.

The cartoon, which dates to the 1960s and was condemned when it was first published, showed a hand inscribed with a Star of David and a dollar sign holding ropes around the necks of a Black man and an Arab man.

Interim Harvard president Alan Garber condemned it as “flagrantly antisemitic” in a message to the Harvard community Tuesday evening.

The cartoon was included in a social media post Sunday by two Harvard student activist groups — the Palestine Solidarity Committee and the African and African American Resistance Organization — as part of a graphic about historical ties between the Black civil rights movement and pro-Palestinian advocacy.

Additional student groups and a pro-Palestinian faculty and staff group later posted the graphic on their own accounts.

“The cartoon is despicably, inarguably antisemitic,” Rabbi David Wolpe, a visiting scholar at Harvard Divinity School, wrote on social media Monday after a group called Harvard Faculty and Staff for Justice in Palestine posted the image online. “Is there no limit?”

The cartoon appears to have originated from a 1967 newsletter published by the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, a major player in the 1960s civil rights movement.According to a New York Times article at the time, the two men depicted with ropes around their necks are boxer Muhammad Ali and then-president of Egypt Gamal Abdel Nasser.

According to the Times article, the SNCC newsletter condemned what it described as atrocities committed by Zionists against Arabs. The Times quoted a then-director of the Anti-Defamation League saying the newsletter, which included the cartoon, “smacks very heavily of antisemitism.”

The graphic posted by the Harvard groups noted the “historical roots of solidarity” between the “Black liberation movements and Palestinian liberation.” It included the words, “The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee likened Zionism to an imperial project. . .” beside an image of the cartoon.

A number of the Harvardorganizations that posted the graphic, including PSC, AFRO, and the faculty group, later took itdown. The faculty group apologized for posting it.

On a campus that has been riven by reports of resurgent antisemitism since Oct. 7 of last year,the posts provoked an uproar over the weekend.

University spokesperson Jason Newton called the social media posts “despicable.” Jeffrey Flier, a Harvard professor and former dean of Harvard Medical School, said in a social media post that there was “[n]o debate about this [cartoon] being antisemitic.” Harvard Chabad, a Jewish group, called it “Reprehensible. Bigoted. Hateful.”

“At a time when antisemitic incidents are at an all-time high and Holocaust denial is spreading both in the U.S. and abroad, Harvard faculty and students must understand and be held to account for the tremendous consequences of proliferating insidious tropes,” the Harvard Jewish Law Students Association said in a statement.

Newton said the matter is being referred to the Harvard College Administrative Board, which handles disciplinary proceedings for students and sanctioned student groups, such as the Palestine Solidarity Committee.

On Tuesday, Garber, who is Jewish, condemned the posts. “Perpetuating vile and hateful antisemitic tropes, or otherwise engaging in inflammatory rhetoric or sharing images that demean people on the basis of their identity, is precisely the opposite of what this moment demands of us,” he said in the message emailed to the Harvard community.

“The University will review the situation to better understand who was responsible for the posting and to determine what further steps are warranted,” he added.

ThePalestine Solidarity Committeeisthe same group that published a statement on Oct. 7 last year — the day of the Hamas-led attack on Israel — that plunged the university into turmoil after critics denounced it as justifying terrorism. “Today’s events did not occur in a vacuum,” the statement said. The group later said the statement was not a justification for violence against civilians, but rather sought to place the Hamas attack in the context of the long, violent Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

On Monday afternoon, as the backlash mounted, the two student groups took down the original graphic and replaced it with a new one that did not include the offensive cartoon. In a caption accompanying the new post, the groups said they had “inadvertently includ[ed] an image that played upon antisemitic tropes” and that the cartoon “was not reflective of our values as organizations.”

“Antisemitism has no place in the movement of Palestinian liberation, and we wholeheartedly disavow it in all its forms,” the groups said.

The faculty group removed the post from its Instagram account and issued a statement. “It has came to our attention that a post featuring antiquated cartoons which used offensive antisemitic tropes was linked to our account,” the group said. “We apologize for the hurt that these images have caused and do not condone them in any way.”

As of Monday morning, the faculty group listed more than 100 signatories on its website under a statement describing the group’s goals. They included faculty and staff from Harvard’s law school, medical school, college, and school of public health.

One of the group’s leaders was Walter Johnson, a professor of history and African and African American Studies, who was, as of last week, also the faculty adviser to PSC. He has since resigned from both groups, according to messages seen by the Globe.

In a statement Tuesday, Johnson said,“I was surprised and saddened by the posting of the images, as I know many others were, but I am no longer in a position to speak on behalf of any organization.”

At some time on Sunday or Monday, the faculty group removed the names of all signatories from its website, according to archived versions of the site. A spokesperson for the group did not respond to a request for comment Tuesday.

The social media posts were widely condemned over the weekend, including by critics from beyond Harvard’s walls. Bill Ackman, the billionaire hedge fund manager and Harvard alumnus who has led an activist campaign against Harvard over what he describes as runaway campus antisemitism, described the groups’ sharing of the cartoon as “grim” in a post on X, the social media platform.

The House Committee on Education and the Workforce, a congressional committee investigating Harvard over antisemitism allegations, wrote on its X account: “This repugnant antisemitism should have no place in our society, much less on Harvard’s faculty.”

That congressional investigation entered a new phase on Friday when chairwoman Virginia Foxx, a North Carolina Republican, said she was subpoenaing Harvard leaders, including interim president Garber. The subpoenas, reviewed by the Globe, would force Harvard to turn over a wide range of documents including disciplinary records, minutes of board meetings, and internal communications.

Foxx has contended Harvard has failed to create an environment for Jewish students free from discrimination and harassment. Separately, several Jewish Harvard students are suing the school over similar allegations.

Garber, who took over the presidency after former president Claudine Gay’s resignation last month, has convened two task forces to combat antisemitism and Islamophobia, which students say have gotten worse since the Oct. 7 attack on Israel and Israel’s retaliatory war in the Gaza Strip.

[bawdabaw]

Snippet of writing to show my skillz. This is from the story @thatsmyfetish and I are writing, Of Suds and Fine Suit Coats about Unseelie mobsters. I'm drawing it to turn it into an online comic.

Holmgren is the leader, a rogue prince of the Dark Court and he owns a restaurant called the Babadock in the city of Vestal, New York. It was recently hit for robbery by some vampires and this scene is him dealing with the problem. Cade, Pastel, and Devon are Unseelie on the crew. Simon Morgan is the new kid, a human and sidhe-seer, and he's Fetty's character.

Reblog, like, comment, or message me or @thatsmyfetish ! Anons accepted. Just enjoy!

It'd been a long night. First, huntin' the basterds down, then questioning and punishing them. After all, it was extremely unlikely that a plan to hit the Babadock would have gone underway without a whisper filtering through the Otherworld channels. And Holmgren had bargains with those he expected to keep him abreast of any such hints and gossip. 

His suspicion that his own men had been bought off had proven correct. Two sidhe sat tied in chairs, wings broken, faces and bodies a mess of bloody cuts, burns, and shadow bites. Both dead, heads lolling on their necks, loose and lifeless, merely sitting up straight because of the structure of the chairs they were strapped to.

A third sidhe, a pixie, sat still alive, trembling in his restraints, sobbing bloody and pleading for forgiveness. His wings were broken and he was bruised heavily from the beating he'd taken. "It were oh-oh-only three days, m'lord," the pixie whimpered sadly. "I needed the money and it was only supposed to be a burglary.... I figured, it were you...what could they possibly do? Nobody can hurt the Dark Bargainer... They'd get caught and killed and no one would be the wiser. I'd have the money and nothin' bad would happen..."

Striding up to him, in a button up shirt, collar undone and sleeves rolled up, Holmgren smoked placidly, looking down at the pitiful, fearful creature with dispassion and apathy. "Ye thought wrong, Galen. After all, our bargain wasn't a choose and tell type of arrangement. Ye owed me all yer secrets, all yer knowledge. Every murmuring ye had on the street was supposed to be mine. And ye broke it."

Smoke in a slender snake curled up from his spiced cig as he reached down to touch the brand of 3 bats marking Galen's chest, laying exposed by his torn open shirt. "I release ye from my debt...and my protection. We are nothing to each other now."

A kick in the balls to the pixie who's face crumpled and he wept in humiliation and sorry, knowing he'd failed. After all, Holmgren could have taken retribution through the mark if he wanted. The contract obeyed his will and the boundaries he had set. The fact that he removed it meant Galen wasn't even worthy of paying the price the normal way. Letting go of the pixie, Holmgren looked over his head to the fiery standing behind him and merely nodded. Then he stepped back and turned away as Cade reached forward to grasp the pixie on the side of the neck and a burst of hot light and flames came from where his skin touched the little Unseelie. The pixie screamed as he was burned, finally going quiet and slumping when he was dead, the side of his neck and shoulder just a mass of smoking, melted flesh, bits of it charred in the shape of Cade's long fingered hand.

Finishing his cigarette, Holmgren started to put on his suit jacket again. "Don't call the cleaners fer this. If their contacts among the blood suckers learn they were tortured and killed for information, it might show our hand too early. And everyone knows I use the brownies. Best to keep the cleanup as tight as we can."

"Aye," Pastel said, with only the barest sigh. It was gonna be a night of hard work but he was here for it. "I'll make sure they'll never be found."

"Take Morgan with ye."

"The new kid? ...Devon can dig holes faster."

"I don't care about speed. I want him involved. See how he does with handling the dead," Holmgren said, drawing one last time on his cig before flicking it away.

Cade grinned, "Ye think he'll get sick? Get a bit shy?"

Holmgren shrugged, smirking as well. "He might. It'd be a simple test of his resolve for this kind of business. Also, I want ye to get a read on him, pix. Ask him questions, get him to loosen a bit, see who he is underneath, yeah?"

Pastel nodded, itching the back of his head. "Soft interrogation. The kind where he doesn't even realize. I gotcha. Anything I'm looking for?"

"Just anything off or that doesn't sit right," Holmgren said with another shrug. "Report everything to me, afterwards."

Agreeing to that, the pix was left to deal with the bodies but his first order of business was to text the human.

*Yo Morgan! I need your help with work tonight! Dress in street clothes. I'm pickign you up in half hour!*

When Pastel showed up to Simon's place, he pulled up in a thick, black SUV, his high riding baby with the roomy back. Pastel wore an olive green bomber jacket, jeans, blue and yellow shirt, with a newsboy cap on his head. Not the most disguising of gear but enough to make him not stand out. Despite the nice ride, candy wrappers littered the front of the vehicle and Pastel was eating dark chocolate caramel pieces(basically sticky caramel squares with silky chocolate creme inside) from the console between seats. Behind him and behind the last bench seat in the back, the bodies of the three fae laid piled together, laying on plastic sheets. On the backseat were several large kettlebell weights with folded up lengths of rope ready for use. Two for each body.

[skloomdumpster]

Can you do Bloom & Sky in an old, black & white mobster-style movie with fancy dames & sly fellas? Bonus points if there's a feather boa and/or a piano, LOL!

a child raised on TVD and Gossip Girl is a woman who wants tv shows to have more balls and thematic parties, please and thank you.

-----

Bloom tugs at the knot of her dress. It ties around her neck, then leaves all of her back exposed, before the shiny black fabric reappears just before her ass starts and continues on to the floor, with a long slit allowing her to move around. It's a gorgeous dress yes, but she's terrified it'll move out of place and reveal that she's got a magic knife strapped to her upper thigh.

"Stop doing that" Stella snaps at her, sipping the dry martini in her hands, "where is he?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask a couple more times, maybe we can summon Sky out of the floor" Blooms scoffs and Stella turns her head to glare at her.

Tonight, she's in red and it makes her blue eyes even more sparkly, her frown even more disgusted than normal.

"You're such a prick, Bloom" Stella scoffs, fixing the feathery boa she's using to conceal the brooch which has been planted to her cleavage. It's high-tech magic, something that makes Bloom snort just thinking about.

Terra can't wrap her mind around it, but Musa is all over it. She's got a bunch of online hacker friends, one of whom was willing to provide the brooch in question.

Across the room, the pianist starts playing and people move around, taking up the dance floor. Bloom glances at the large grandfather clock, then back to Stella and they exchange a nervous look. If Sky's not back yet, then maybe... Maybe he was caught...

"Princess Stella" a man has the nerve to approach her and Stella visibly winces, but with Queen Luna being the cunt-royale extraordinary, Stella really has to appease to anyone in the court who's willing to side with her. She allows the man to plant his lips briskly over her gloved knuckles and then he's pulling her to the dance floor.

Bloom's alone and panicking by the minute. If Sky failed then not only the mission is jeopardized, but Sky is in danger and that does not fly well with her at all. She knows he's her biggest, most explored weakness.

Her hands are sweating when the music ends, the crowd shuffles around, exchanging partners for the next one - a singer steps on stage, white gloves up to her elbows, black hair reaching her waist in soft angelic waves - and finally Bloom sees him.

Making it down the stairs, clad in a black tuxedo, hair pushed back and a blinding smile on. He's a movie star, Bloom thinks dreamily, letting out a sigh of relief, crumpling down on her chair in an unladylike manner.

Sky crosses the ballroom, navigating between the dancing couples and makes it to her a minute too late, because another guy gets there first. An older man with a goatee, asking for a dance with the Dragon Flame. He even calls her as such, the Dragon Flame. Some men should be slapped with sense across the face, see if they got a hint.

She's looking offended and floored at the old guy, trying to come up with a witty response, but she's never been really good at that, when Sky steps in. Exuding confidence.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Valinor, but I believe the Dragon Flame already has a date" he says, all calm, before promptly turning away from the man, looking at Bloom. His smile is so smug, it makes her cheeks burn, "do you wanna dance?"

She takes his hand, allows Sky to guide her to the middle of the ballroom, leaving behind Mr. Vallinor, one of the main philanthropists for tonight's fundraiser and the whole reason why the thing was thematic.

Sky twirls her once as they step into the ballroom and then his cheek is to her temple and her hand in his, as he easily guides her around. Bless Silva's ballroom classes. She trips once, Sky's hand on her waist squeezes her a little tighter, but he doesn't even mention it.

"What took you so long?" she whispers, looking past his shoulder. She's wearing huge heels tonight, part of the reason why Sky's hands on hers are holding her up every time he makes them step around in a complicated pattern.

He turns his head and his lips brush over her brow, twist in a smile as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "don't stop smiling" she forces a smile on, "may have had to knock out a guard, but everything is fine."

He wasn't meant to knock out anybody, it was an in and out type of mission, they just needed the damn magic book back. Bloom squeezes her eyes shut and Sky bites at her earlobe, "keep smiling, B."

Oh yes, she forces her lips to keep smiling, throws her head back in a false laughter, only so she can glare at her boyfriend. Against his shoulder once more, she whispers, "that was not the plan."

"It was either that or let him kill me, I figured you'd be less upset with the choice I made," Sky scoffs, before kissing her cheek, "calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"What if he wakes up?"

"He won't be a problem," Sky reassures her and Bloom nods slowly. He's never let her down, Sky always comes through with everything. She sighs and then intertwines their fingers, allowing Sky to dip her.

"Let's enjoy the night then" she says and Sky smiles, nose brushing on hers as he leans over her, his hand on her naked back.

"We have until Stell gives us the sign" he agrees, straightening her up, nose to nose. Maybe these rich people parties are not such a waste of time, not if she gets to see Sky in that, not if they waltz around the ballroom for six songs in a row.

[professorpski]

Shoulders Versus Drape in 1945: Vogue 1903

This re-issued vintage sewing patter from 1945 is just in time for cool weather in my neck of the woods as the temperature is tumbling. It is an interesting blend of big shoulders and softer gathers at the waistline. There was a shift in fashion for daywear during the late 1930s as Europe broke out in war. Women’s clothing took on bigger shoulders and got rid of a lot of its frills which seemed in keeping with serious times through 1945. You can see here the signs of shoulder pads as the bulk continues past the actual end of the shoulder line. Since this pattern does not call for shoulder pads among its notions, the sewing directions may well call for making them up yourself out of the cotton flannel which is also used for an interlining. 

At the same time, women’s clothing rarely looked like men’s clothing which had long had serious shoulder pads. Instead, you see here a deeply cut arm hole which would not have been seen in men’s tailored coats. They are also one piece, another feature more likely to be seen in women’s clothing than men’s. You see a belt which runs through a casing at the back then pops out at the front side seams and ties outside the coat. It is practical in that you won’t ever lose it as does happen when a belt it merely slide through loops on the outside of a coat. It is also a style feature allowing for soft gathers front and back and the option of tying the coat more tightly to show off an hour-glass figure. The standing collar helps to keep out the chill, yet the limited number of buttons, only 4, tell you that style as much as practicality is embodied in this design.

The gathers are why they suggest medium weight wools as anything heavier would make for bulk at the waistline gathers. In keeping with the vintage sewing instructions, they suggest you interline it with cotton flannel, but I would urge you to track down the kind of slippery lining that has a wool backing to it which will keep you much warmer. Again, check for bulkiness in the lining.

You can find this at your local fabric store or online here: https://somethingdelightful.com/vogue-patterns/v1903

[saswathacademyworld]

5 Popular Women GMs That Will Inspire Every Girl Child

Time and again women have proved that they are a force to be reckoned with in every sphere of life. And the chess world is no exception. From not being allowed to play, to having separate tournaments specially for women — it has been a long journey!

Despite facing challenges and pressure from society, women have excelled in chess and will only keep getting better from here on.

The pioneers of this change are undoubtedly the women Grandmasters all over the world. They beat stereotypes and play neck and neck with men in international tournaments.

Let us take a look at some of the popular women Grandmasters in Chess –

1. Nona Gaprindashvili

This list won’t get its deserved start if we do not mention the first woman to ever receive the International Grandmaster title from FIDE. Born in 1941, this Georgian (then Soviet) player has played in numerous international tournaments and won several of them.

She was the Women’s World Champion from 1962 to 1978! She participated in the Women’s Chess Olympiad for the Soviet Union many times between 1963 to 1990 and for Georgia in 1992. She contributed immensely to the team in these olympiads and won many gold medals along the way! She has also won the Women’s World Senior Championship several times between 1995 to 2019.

Nona Gaprindashvili has given more to the field of chess than words can express. She was the flagbearer of women’s chess and gave hope and inspiration to many young girls to work hard and achieve the Grandmaster title.

2. Judit Polgar

Popularly referred to as the strongest woman chess player of all time, Grandmaster Judit Polgar needs absolutely no introduction! She was known for her aggressive, tactical and fierce playing style. But here’s something that has cemented her fierce reputation amongst the chess world. She is the only woman to have played in the men’s candidates tournament and to have crossed the 2700 elo mark in the history of chess!

In her long and successful chess career, she has won games against fellow legends like GM Anatoly Karpov, GM Garry Kasparov, GM Magnus Carlsen, GM Viswanathan Anand, GM Vladimir Kramnik, GM Veselin Topalov and many more in either rapid or classical formats.

She is the only woman to be ranked among the top 10 of all chess players, her peak ranking being 8th in 2004.

She has been a source of inspiration for countless women chess players. And she truly has broken many gender stereotypes people have about women playing chess.

3. Koneru Humpy

The highest ranked Indian woman player and one of the finest Grandmasters of our country, Koneru Humpy has been a sensation since her childhood days. She achieved the title of Grandmaster in 2002, at the young age of 15 years and 1 month – a feat not achieved by any other Indian woman so far!

GM Koneru has won many world youth championships and in 2001 she won the coveted World Junior Girls Championship. Interestingly, she participated in the boys’ section of the World Junior Championship in 2004 and tied for 5th place which is an extremely amazing achievement!

In 2019, she won the Women’s World Rapid Championship. In 2020, she was a crucial part of the gold medal winning Indian team for the Online Chess Olympiad.

She is also the recipient of the honorable Padma Shri Award and Arjuna Award for her contribution to the field of chess. In 2020, she received the BBC Indian Sportswoman of the year award.

If Vishy Anand has influenced India to take up chess, GM Koneru Humpy has done the same for young Indian girls.

4. Alexandra Kosteniuk

Popularly known as the chess queen, Russian GM Alexandra Kosteniuk is one of the finest female Grandmasters in the history of chess. She was the Women’s World Chess Champion from 2008 to 2010. She is also the first person to win the Chess960 Women’s World Championship. In 2013, she became the first woman to win the men’s Swiss Chess Championship.

She has won numerous gold medals while playing for team Russia in the Women’s Chess Olympiad, Women’s World Chess Team Championship and Women’s European Chess Team Championship.

GM Kosteniuk is known to play aggressively and quickly, often creating pressure over her opponent with her speed. She has been one of the top women grandmasters in Russia for many years and has even won the Women’s World Cup in 2021.

5. Hou Yifan

A chess prodigy, GM Hou Yifan has taken the chess world by storm since her debut. She is the youngest female to achieve the Grandmaster title and the second highest rated female chess player after GM Judit Polgar.

Between 2010 to 2017, she has won the Women’s World Chess Championship 4 times!

Currently ranked no.1 in active players, she has held that streak since September 2015!

Many regard her as the best active female chess player and her track record only proves her capabilities.

Apart from being a successful chess player, she’s also given equal importance to academics and completed her degree from University of Oxford. She is now working as a professor at Shenzhen University.

WGMs - a humble gratitude

Women have had to face many obstacles in their respective careers over the years. Despite that, they have strongly overcome these hurdles and established themselves firmly.

The female Grandmasters mentioned in this article and many others have done the same in the field of chess. They have broken barriers and set new records and fought neck and neck with their male competitors. They are a constant source of inspiration for many young girls to take up chess professionally.

To such exceptional female personalities, we extend our humble gratitude!