#shiny red bodysuit

[leatheredlibrarian]

Harnessing the sun in his solar powered latex bodysuit -- His future is so great, he has got to wear 'shades!

remix

[razzafrazzle]

bill cipher for drag race When

[image description: two drawings of a human design of bill cipher from gravity falls, where he is depicted as a thin, pale-skinned individual with one eye visible and a constantly exaggerated smile. on the left he has his hair in a pointy beehive style and is wearing a shiny yellow gown with a short black hoop skirt over it, along with long black gloves and a bright yellow cane. on the right he has his hair in a short geometric bob and is wearing a bedazzled yellow bodysuit with pointed shoulders, a large red eye on the chest, and black beads dangling off of it, as well as matching boots with red tights underneath and a black cane. next to that is a small comic of bill posing dramatically on the ground while kryptos stands behind him with his arm comically snapped in half. kryptos says "bill i think i broke my arm", to which bill responds "NOT NOW KRYPTOS IM BUSY SERVING". end id]

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 13

Jason Todd + Masks or Helmets

Hi guys, hows everyone doing lately? Im tired, but what else is new. Such is the waters of life, or whatever they say. I have no idea where I was going with this, enjoy. Kind of goes hand in hand with the Jason prompt from last year, which you can read here. This is more focused on their relationship, so it might be a little bland.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

What you and Hood shared didn’t have a name. you weren’t officially dating or anything, but you only messed around with each other, if that made sense. He got you stuff in leather, and let you fondle his body, when and when he wasn’t wearing that latex bodysuit. It got you both going, and helped keep the edge off when things got annoying. Plus, he was hot as hell, even if you had never seen his face.

Him wearing his helmet always seemed to add a bit of an edge to what you two did, especially when your hands followed the shiny surface of the black latex suit he wore, only to see it follow up under the helmet. There was a small seam just below his head, before the helmet started, but that was all. It left you almost dizzy just thinking about it, wondering what was beneath it all.

Of course, you didn’t get to see beneath it for a long time, even when Hood got wacked hard enough in the head that he could barely stand on is own two feet, and you had to drag him to Leslie’s. Leslie was used to seeing you, both of you. You liked to fight, and Hood just always ended up fighting whether he wants too or not. All the leather you wore was pretty damn recognizable too, making you a memorable sight.

At least, it would have made you memorable, if this wasn’t Gotham. Most folk were too busy trying to survive this shithole to worry about what anyone wore, only checking if it was the uniform of some rogue or gang, before going on their way. The red streaks to your outfits were enough to let people know you were one of Hoods, and that’s all they needed to know.

You knew Joker had gotten out some days before, and that he had finally been picked up by the bats again, after causing more death than that clown should be allowed too. You hadn’t even needed to check the news or anything, since Hoods pacing and ranting was enough to tell you that the clown was out again. If it were up to you, then Joke would have been dead a long time ago, would do a lot of good in your opinion.

It got to a point where you felt like Hood was gonna burst a blood vessel, so you had to resort to the good ol, rub his torso and try and calm him down. He was wearing the same latex as always, his angry breathing loud enough for his helmet to pick it up. Hood sounded like some kind of angry dragon about to breath fire all over you, or maybe that was just you making things up.

The helmet was blank, the white eyes doing nothing but staring at you with no feeling or tell of what was going through his head. You had learned some of his tells over all the time, at least what Hood allowed you to see of him. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to know when he was angry, stressed, sad, or whatever else he might feel that could hinder him as a leader.

Him leaning his head back to flash his latex covered throat was a bit new though, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled loudly, clearly debating on something inside his head. Hood had a lot of thoughts, a lot of it that he never shared with any of you and kept to himself. That was just how Hood was, he had at least gotten better at sharing when something could involve you guys, sometimes.

You almost wanted to pull your hands off his torso where they had been rubbing his stomach through the shiny material, when he reached up to grab his helmet. It felt illegal to see what was beneath it, your hands tensing up with the instinctual want to cover your eyes. Seeing Hoods face felt so wrong, like something you should never be allowed to do.

It left you a bit stumped as the helmet came off, only to reveal… another mask. Or rather, another hood. You didn’t know too much about the whole, gimp culture, at least you thought it was one of those masks. Except it had some kind of mesh material covering his eyes and mouth, still leaving his eyes a mystery to you.

You were speechless, and you were rarely speechless. Hood barely looked like himself as he shucked his jacket and shirt off, herding you backwards until you were sitting in his chair, in his office. Having someone as large as Hood kneeling between your knees was still new and uncomfortable in its own way, but also nice, good.

He clearly didn’t want this to go anywhere, as he avoided rubbing against the obvious hardness sticking to your thigh through the tight material of your leather pants. Instead, Hood just pressed his forehead against your knee and sighed loudly, rubbing his head from side to side, like he just needed something.

With slight hesitation, you finally just decided to say fuck it. There was a guy in the sewers who looked like a crocodile, a chick who controlled plants, and you were pretty sure there was a bird cult in the city. So, who where you to judge that your boss, who’d clearly shown you that he was into this whole thing, was into this whole thing.

With a soft exhale you just place one of your leather gloved hands on the back of his sleek head, moving it in slow motions back and forth. Rubbing from the back of his head, down between his shoulders, and back up again. It felt almost like scrubbing the hood of a car, not that you legally owned one. But you’d painted and waxed enough cars for the motions to be familiar.

You felt kinda bad comparing your Boss to a car getting waxed, but what he wore left him shiny like one, so you couldn’t really help it. Hood clearly wasn’t gonna get all soft and pliable like you’d seen in videos online, not in some place as dangerous as his office. The only place that was good enough for that was his safehouses, you hoped. The guy needed some time to just turn off his brain and do what he liked, but realistically no place was ever safe enough for that in Gotham.

Sitting here rubbing your crime bosses hooded head wasn’t ever on your plans for the future. But it was nice in a way, if you didn’t think too much about it. There was a familiar throb between your thighs that told you that your body definitely liked it, you just had to turn the thought in your head for a bit, maybe even do some research on whatever it was Hood was into.

Latex, full head covering, and masks wasn’t really your thing, but if Hood was into it enough, then yeah, you’d learn about it. He had always been a nice guy, in the way crime bosses could be nice, and you had this whole, strange relationship going on, which made it worth learning about.

Maybe next time, when he wasn’t this worked up, Hood could actually tell you about it. For now, though, you just sat there and comforted him, in that strange way he seemed to need. But everything in Gotham was weird, so maybe this wasn’t as strange as it felt. Not weird, maybe you should just call it new instead. It was new, and you were happy to explore it with Hood, if he allowed it.

[princeofrubber]

His Lycra-Coated Tormentor

Ethan lifted the cycling bodysuit off the door, letting the sleek material slip between his fingers. The fabric was soft yet sturdy. He held it up by the shoulders. The suit was a deep black with subtle reflective strips of neon green running down the sides for visibility and a faint hint of silver piping traced along the seams. Ethan’s heart pounded in his as he traced his thumb along the open zipper that ran from the collarbone to the navel.

He gazed from the enticing suit to the open wardrobe in front of him. And then he saw it.

A plethora of fetish items, numerous lycra suits, sacks and hoods hung from hangers within the dark space. Along with clearly visible boxes housing gags, dildos, rope, restraints and all kinds of perverted items. The vibrant colours of the shiny materials still reflected so vividly in the low light of the bedroom. Ethan stumbled back, the spandex suit he was holding slipped from his hands. He was breathing hard and heavy, as his mind raced with a thousand questions. What the fuck was he looking at?

At that moment, he heard movement behind him. Ethan froze, like a deer in headlights, turning slowly to see Lukas standing at his bedroom’s doorway, his face unreadable. The air between them was thick with tension, and for the first time since they’d met, Ethan was terrified in his presence.

“What- are you doing?” Lukas demanded, his voice low and clearly enraged.

“Uhh… I’m sorry… I… I dunno what,” Ethan responded, nerve-wrecked.

“Get the fuck out!” Lukas demanded.

“Wait no… no you have the wrong idea. I know who you are!” Ethan panicked, “wait shit I mean I’m also into this stuff… well maybe not all of it… maybe I dunno. Shit I am sorry!”

Lukas strode into the room, closing the door behind him. His gaze fixed fervently on Ethan. He hit a switch on the wall which filled his bedroom with a low red glow.

“Now that is a surprise. I always took you as the vanilla type.” Lukas chuckled, his tone was completely different from normal. It was full of menace and something… dark, “Since the cat’s out of the bag, why don’t we have a little fun?”

“Ah… fun?” Ethan nervously retorted.

“Yep. You say you’re into this stuff… well we’re about to find out just how much you like it. You broke into my room so I think it’s only fair you indulge me in this.”

- - -

Read the full story princeofrubber.com

[haerenven]

RED HAIR, CHERRY LIPS

summary. When a sea emperor and captain of red-haired pirate fall for a stripper dancer

warning. Mention of profanity, mention of male genitalia, violence

The Red-Hair Pirates stopped on a certain new island where bars and night shows were quite popular there, they stopped on one of those popular nights shows clubs for drinks, until a fine looking guy with suit show up on stage, “ladies and gentleman’s, welcome for the highest finest show for this season, the 'rude nude' show, give us huge welcome on stage and raise your toast’s for the one and only ‘MISS LADY, Y/N” currently performing in front of the pirates but Shanks suddenly caught off guard by a lady show up with all spotlights on her mesmerizing beauty aura.

Shanks's attention was snapped away from the male performer as a new figure stepped onto the stage, a vision of radiant beauty and alluring stage presence. The spotlight fell on her, the glare of the light illuminating every feature, every curve, every movement as she moved with a grace and confidence that was unmistakably captivating. She commanded the stage with an aura that demanded attention, and Shanks couldn't help but be drawn in by her magnetic presence, his eyes following her every move intently.

High-Looking gorgeous incredible lady , with perfect seductive hourglass feminine body with her allure stunning aura, She is an angel on Earth, a vision of unparalleled beauty and grace. Her flawless hourglass figure is the epitome of femininity, her curves perfectly defined and in all the right places. Her aura is a captivating force, drawing the eye and holding the attention of all who behold her. From the way she carries herself to the way she moves, there is an allure that is both captivating and seductive, a presence that is impossible to ignore.

The stripper's dance outfit was as flawless as her performance. It consisted of a high-cut fishnet bodysuit that hugged her body in all the right places, showcasing her perfect hourglass figure. The sheer black material revealed glimpses of her smooth, taut skin, adding an air of sexiness and allure to the look. On her feet, she wore a pair of shiny black stilettos that made her legs look impossibly long and toned. Her makeup was dramatic and seductive, with dark eye liner and a bold red lipstick to enhance her features.

She stepped gracefully towards the pole, her movements fluid and sinuous like a snake. She wrapped her hands around the pole, gripping it tightly as she raised herself up, her body arching perfectly as she twirled around. Her hips moved in a slow, sensuous circle, her movements both languid and seductive. She twirled and twirled, her body moving with a grace that defied gravity, each twist and spin a performance of pure elegance and sexuality. As she danced, her eyes flicked towards the audience, full of a sultry, alluring gaze.

Shanks' eyes were transfixed on you, he could practically hear his crew members' jaws drop as they watched your every move, but Shanks couldn't look away. He was mesmerized by your beauty, both in looks and in the way you danced. Your every move was like a work of art, and the way you moved spoke of a grace and sensuality he has never encountered before. He was both intrigued and captivated by you. He watched you intently, his arms crossed as he leaned against the back of the bar as you continued your dance.

As the performance continued, Shanks found himself enthralled by your every move, his eyes tracing your every step, watching in complete fascination as you danced, twirling and spinning around the pole like it was an extension of your own body. The air in the room was electric, the atmosphere charged with the energy of everyone watching, entranced by your performance. It was clear you knew how to command the room and had the audience under your spell, including Shanks himself.

The woman's slim hourglass body glides across the smooth iron pole, her movements a mix of fluid, sinuous grace and a hungry, desperate need. Her fingers trail lightly along the cold metal, her touch both sensuous and needy as she arches her body around the pole, her skin glistening in the dim light like a beacon. She grinds against the iron, her hips twisting and gyrating in a sultry, seductive dance, the heat of her desire visible in the hungry look in her eyes.

Shanks found himself leaning closer, his eyes glued to your every move. The way you moved around the pole was both mesmerizing and enchanting, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. As you ground against the pole with your hips, the heat in your eyes only added to the sensuality of the performance. Shanks could feel his heart racing, and he wasn't the only one. He could hear his crew members muttering amongst themselves, clearly in awe of your skills.

The woman's movements grow wilder and more desperate, her body contorting in ways that seemed to defy physics as she writhes on the pole. As she spun around, her leg hooked around the slender bar, her body hanging upside down. She arched her back, her hair falling in a curtain around her face, her body twisted in a way that only accented her already stunning curves. She spun and twirled a few more times before sliding down the pole

The show had reached its peak, the woman's energy and confidence flowing through her every movement. With a final, spectacular move, she brought the performance to a close, her body coming to a stop on the floor, her body posed in a seductive, captivating stance and her chest heaving as she drew in labored breaths, the A hush fell over the audience, a collective gasp of admiration and appreciation for the breathtaking performance they had just witnessed.

everyone was stunned and entranced by your performance. Shanks found himself at a loss for words, his eyes still on you. He wasn't the only one either, the whole crew sat in stunned silence, unable to tear their eyes away from you. It wasn't just the performance that had them in awe, it was the sheer presence you commanded. Shanks was completely caught off guard by your aura and your undeniable charm.

She stepped off the stage, her body still buzzing with the energy of the performance she had just given. The audience's applause followed her as she walked down a dimly lit hallway, the sound gradually fading as she moved further away from the stage. She was now backstage, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the behind-the-scenes crew, the sound of stagehands preparing for the next act filling the air.

Shanks and his crew remained seated at the bar, watching as you disappeared into the backstage area. Shanks couldn't shake the feeling of awe and intrigue that had come over him during the performance.

Shanks watched as you walked off the stage, disappearing behind the curtains. He stayed sitting, his mind still reeling from the performance you just gave. He could still see your every move in his mind, the way you twisted and twirled around the pole, the grace and sensuality in each move. He couldn't get you out of his mind.

He turned to his crew who were still stunned into silence. "That was quite a performance, eh?" Shanks said, trying to sound casual, Seeing his crew members were in such awe.

He turned to his first mate, Benn Beckman, who was sitting next to him, breaking the silence. "Have you ever seen anything like that, Beck?..”

Benn took a drag from his cigarette., his eyes following your path backstage. When he blew smoke in the air, "quite impressive" he responded, a hint of admiration in his voice. and his poker face

completely focused on you. He watched as you moved through the backstage area, the hustle and bustle of the crew around you only serving to contrast with your own aura. Shanks couldn't believe how easily he was drawn to you, and as he watched you disappear behind a door, he found himself filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and desire to know more about you.

I was backstage, surrounded by my staff as they helped me into a robe to cover up. Then, my manager, Manon, appeared next to me, a smirk playing on her lips as she took a draw of her cigarette. "Well, that was quite a performance out there, dollface," she commented, a twinkle in her eye. I smiled back, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the show. "Just doing what I do best," I replied, shrugging my shoulders modestly.

Manon chuckled in that low, sultry tone of hers, blowing a stream of smoke from her lips. She looked me up and down, a smirk on her face. "You did amazing out there," she repeated, her gaze lingering on me. I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my chest at her words. "Oh, you noticed?" I replied, feigning innocence with a playful smile. "You look quite good today yourself," I added, admiring her attire for the night.

Manon took another draw of her cigarette and exhaled, a puff of smoke swirling around her like a protective cloud. "Yeah, I noticed," she replied, her eyes never leaving me. "You have a way of catching people's attention, dollface, always have." I felt a flush of pleasure at her words, the compliment bolstering my confidence. "Well, I do try," I replied, a sly smile playing on my lips. Manon threw her head back with a light laugh, the sound low.

“and about my good mood for tonight, well…let’s say there was a wealthy great guy wh—“, I interrupted Manon as she started to speak, my voice firm. "Manon, no. For the last time im telling you I'm a dancer, not a 'slut,'" I said, my tone firm but polite. Manon sighed in response, frustrated with my stubborn attitude. "You are such an airhead, you know," she replied, shaking her head. "If I had your face and body, and all these stupid wealthy guys willing to spend all their money on me, I wouldn't be complaining," Manon continued, her words laced with a hint of envy and mock.

I rolled my eyes at her words, unamused by her remark. "Well, I have standards," I replied, my tone still firm. "I'm not just here to entertain these rich bastards and their wallets. I have a bit more dignity than that." Manon laughed, a cold and bitter sound. "Dignity? In this place? You're in the wrong business, dollface" she said, taking another draw of her cigarette.

I felt a pang of disappointment at her words, knowing that she was partially right. The world of stripping and dance was full of compromises and sacrifices, and it was easy to lose sight of one's dignity in pursuit of success. But I was determined to maintain my self-respect while still succeeding in my craft. "Maybe," I conceded, my voice quiet. "But I don't want to be just another piece of meat for these rich guys to drool over. I have to hold onto something.”

I had had enough of her persistent attempts to convince me to lower my standards. I squared my shoulders and looked her dead in the eye, my voice firm and unwavering. "Listen to me, Manon," I said, my tone final. "If you wanted that much money, then go for them, and let them fill YOU with their old cocks. I don’t care of what do you want. That's not what I want."

Manon looked taken aback by my bluntness, her eyes wide. "And for the last time, I'm telling you," I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "Don't talk to me about this ever again," I repeated, my eyes narrowed. "And trust me, it will be the last time you see me if you do.” My voice was steady and resolute, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation. Manon stared at me for a moment, clearly shocked by my response. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I let out a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and tension. I knew that standing up to Manon like that would have consequences, but I couldn't let her pressure me into something I wasn't comfortable with. I stood there for a moment, the silence of the backstage area surrounding me.

I made my way to the changing room, relieved to have a moment alone to collect my thoughts and change out of my stage costume. The adrenaline from the performance was slowly ebbing away, leaving me feeling both emotionally and physically drained. As I entered the changing room, I closed the door behind me with a soft click and sat down on a small chair in front of a mirror.

I took a deep breath, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was slightly disheveled from the performance, my makeup smudged by the sweat. But my eyes were still bright and alert, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I began to unbutton my costume, slowly and methodically, peeling the fabric away from my skin.

Shanks was sitting in the club bar enjoying his crew usual silly activities, until catch his attention the same stripper came out of backstage, As you stepped out of the stage room, Shanks' eyes widened in surprise. Your outfit was both classy and rebellious, somehow managing to match your aura perfectly

white silk top, with a few buttons unbuttoned, teased at her cleavage and emphasized the generous curves of her figure. Overneath the shirt, a burgundy leather jacket provided a touch of edge, creating a contrast that was both captivating and intriguing. A pair of black pants hugged her legs, accentuating her toned physique. Her hair was swept up into a high ponytail, showing off the confident line of her neck. Smoky eye makeup added an air of mystery to her gaze, while a sleek neck-high heel gave her an extra boost of height. Glinting

The silk of her white top feels cool against her skin as she moves, the fabric caressing her every curve. The unbuttoned buttons reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a subtle tease that's both provocative and playful. The burgundy leather jacket slung over her shoulders adds a touch of ruggedness to the otherwise delicate silk, creating a pleasing contrast in textures. The black pants cling to her legs like a second skin, emphasizing the shape of her thighs and the lean lines of her calves.

Shanks couldn't help but let out a low whistle, his eyes taking in every inch of your appearance. Your outfit was elegant and provocative, hugging your figure in all the right places. He could feel his heart rate increase just looking at you, and his crew members were no better. They were already whispering to each other, their eyes lingering on your form.

Shanks downed the rest of his drink before standing up. He made his way towards you, his eyes fixed on yours as he approached. He could feel himself getting more and more enthralled by you, your presence was both captivating and tantalizing. His crew members were still watching, their eyes flickering between you and their captain, curious to see what was about to unfold.

As she was minding her own business, Shanks came to a stop in front of you, she suddenly found herself stopped in her tracks by a tall figure blocking her path, his eyes roaming over you again before he spoke. "Impressive performance back there," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. His voice was low and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the admiration in his tone.

She looked up at the man with a bemused expression, her eyebrow raised in question. "Um, thanks?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion at the unexpected situation.

Shanks chuckled at your response, seemingly amused by your reaction. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he continued to regard you with a cool, appraising gaze. "You don't seem very surprised," he observed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She couldn't help but find his reaction perplexing. Why was this man blocking her path, and why did he seem so nonchalant about it? She took a step back, her eyes locked on his face as she tried to make sense of the situation. "Should I be?" she countered, her voice steady despite the growing unease she felt in her chest.

when he parted his lips to respond, She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, preparing to step around him and continue on her way. But before she could move past him, he shifted his weight, his body blocking her path once more.

As he blocked her path, preventing her from moving past him, she let out an exasperated sigh, her annoyance evident in her expression. With a swift and graceful motion, she pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her red-lipstick lips. The sight of her lips wrapped around the cigarette's edge was nothing short of seductive, and as she lit it and inhaled a slow, measured draw, it seemed to only serve to heighten the tension between them. Exhaling a plume of smoke, she turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in what almost seemed like a challenge. "Would you buy me a drink?"

Shanks watched you as you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, his gaze unwavering as he took in your every movement. The way your lips wrapped around the filter was strangely captivating, and the sight of you exhaling a plume of smoke only added to the tension that was building between you. His lips curled into a small smirk as he heard your request, and he responded in a low, gravelly voice, "Sure, I'll get you a drink. As long as you tell me your name first."

She took another drag of the cigarette, her gaze never leaving him. The air around them seemed to crackle with a simmering tension. When he agreed to buy her a drink, she smirked, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. She exhaled a cloud of smoke and considered his question for a moment. "And if I don't want to tell you my name yet?" she asked, her voice low and provocative. "What then?"

Shanks chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying the game you were playing. With a nonchalant shrug, he replied, "Then I suppose I could just keep calling you 'dancer', seeing as you seem to be avoiding telling me your name." His eyes darkened a bit as he continued to regard you, his gaze roaming over your figure slowly and deliberately. "But I have a feeling you're not the type to give in so easily."

She let out another exaggerated sigh, clearly feigning annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she replied, her voice holding a hint of impatience. "Just buy me a drink." Her tone was brusque, yet there was something almost seductive in the way she spoke, as if she was trying to tempt him into satisfying her request.

As they made their way to the bar of the club, the music surrounding them was a thumping, pulsating beat that seemed to vibrate through the air. The dimly lit space was alive with the energy of the dancers and clubgoers, creating an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and electric.

Shanks led you to the bar, keeping a close eye on you as you walked. The thumping music and dim lighting only added to the sensual atmosphere, and Shanks couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. He gestured for you to take a seat on one of the stools before signaling to the bartender for two drinks.

As the drinks arrived, Shanks picked up both glasses and handed one to you. As he did so, his fingers brushed against yours, the touch deliberate and subtle. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes flickered at the brief touch.

She took the glass from him, her fingers briefly touching his, sending a subtle shiver through her as well. As she took a sip, she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on her face, studying every curve and contour intently. The air between them was charged, the chemistry undeniable.

He took a seat beside you, placing his glass on the countertop before turning to face you again. His eyes were fixed on yours, studying you intently as he took a slow sip of his drink. The air around you felt charged with a strange mix of tension, curiosity, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. "You know," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "Most women would be tripping over themselves to tell me their name by now."

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him with a sly smirk, clearly not one to be outdone by his charming words. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “Well, no one care.” As she took another slow sip of her drink, her gaze locked with his, a flicker of challenge in her eyes.

Shanks chuckled at your response, his eyes glimmering with amusement. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave lower as he replied, "Oh, I have a feeling you don't care for many things, do you?", There was a hint of admiration in his tone, even if it was delivered with a hint of mockery. He took another slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to stare at you, studying your every expression.

“Oi, captain, she got you there” yasopp said mockingly, and all of his crew laughed with their usual silly attitude,

Shanks shot a quick glare at Yasopp, a silent warning in his eyes, which only served to make his crew laugh even louder. He didn’t take his eyes off you, even as he responded to his crew. “Quiet, you idiots,” he called out in a mock-scolding tone. He shook his head, then turned back to you with a smirk. “Don’t mind them, they always like to act like children.”

With a nonchalant flick of her wrist, she exhaled a cloud of smoke, her eyes never leaving his face. "Trust me," she insisted, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm here for a free drink, nothing more." As she spoke, she took another sip from her glass, her cool demeanor hinting that she wasn't intimidated by his presence.

Shanks chuckled once more at your words, his eyes darkening further with intrigue, He leaned back a bit, his arms resting on the countertop behind him, and regarded you with a sly smile. “A free drink, huh? That's all you're here for?” His voice was a mix of mockery and genuine curiosity.

She let out a low chuckle, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You think I came here for you?" she repeated, her tone laced with mockery. "Oh please, I'm here for the free drink, not your charming presence.”

Shanks laughed at your sarcastic tone, the sound deep and rich. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, I’m crushed.” He feigned a heartbreak, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.

“But tell me,” he continued, leaning in closer. “If not for my charming presence, then why did you let me buy you a drink?”

She took another sip of her drink, a sly grin playing at the corners of her lips as she replied, "For free drinks. Plural. I didn't come all the way here just for one measly glass.”

Shanks chuckled once more, his eyes glimmering with amusement at your wit. He found your unabashed bluntness to be both refreshing and captivating, He took a slow sip of his own drink, his gaze still locked on your face. “I see your game, you know that, right? You’re trying to finesse me for as many free drinks as you can get.”

She leaned in a bit closer, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "You want the truth?” She didn't wait for his response and continued, "I am 100% here for the free drinks. I'm not playing any dumb games or tryna scam you."

Her attention was suddenly diverted, her gaze shifting to a small commotion nearby. A lady was being harassed by a man whose behavior was nothing short of repulsive. The woman was obviously uncomfortable and trying to make him leave, but he persisted, with a smug expression on his face, Her expression darkened A mix of anger and concern passed over her features, as she quickly throw her useless cigarette away and stand up confidently with her slim hourglass frame, and made her way to the table where both of the lady and the disgusting guy were at.

Shanks' gaze followed yours, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw the commotion unfolding. As you stood up abruptly and made your way to the table, he found himself strangely drawn to your confident stride. He watched as you approached the couple, curious to see what you were going to do.

Meanwhile, his crew members had noticed the commotion as well. They exchanged wary glances, uncertain about what was unfolding but ready to leap into action if necessary.

Disgusting Guy spoke with his devilish gross smirk "Come on, sweet cheeks, give me some attention. You know you want to.", the lady was yelling even when music in background was hidden her voice "Stay away from me! I already told you, I'm not interested."

Her eyes, a mesmerizing pool of black with a hint of smoky shadow, narrowed as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Her lips, painted a deep scarlet, curved into a slight frown as she spoke up, her voice even and cool. "What's going on here?" she repeated, her tone betraying a trace of steel beneath the velvet.

Disgusting Guy glanced at you "Mind ya own damn business, missy." He shot a dismissive glare at you, his eyes roaming over your figure with a lewd expression. The lady, meanwhile, looked visibly relieved to see you.

She met his glare with an unwavering stare, her eyes cool and unflinching. Her expression hardened at his disrespectful tone, her features now rigid and cold. Her gaze then shifted to the lady beside him, noting the relief on her face,Her voice was sharp and authoritative, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. "When I see you stop annoying this lady,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving his face. Her stance was firm, her body almost coiled with tension, yet her expression revealed an unyielding determination to not back down.

“Oh, ain't you bold. I ain't annoying no one. She's just playing hard to get, ain't ya, sweetheart?" He turned to the lady, his eyes filled with mock kindness. The lady seemed uncomfortable by his blatant display of disregard for her feelings.

Her jaw clenched at his words, her eyes narrowing into a cold glare. The air around her seemed to drop a few degrees, her voice now as frigid as an icy frost. "Hear me out, bitch," she retorted, her voice low and steady. "You are here to take off your clothes and dance around a pole because you’re a 'whore'. And I'm here to have a good time without dealing with your disrespect."

As Shanks and his crew listened to the exchange, Shanks felt a growing sense of unease. He was about to get up and intervene when he saw her sudden, swift attack. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her handle the man with a surprising amount of skill and confidence. In that moment, he realized he really didn’t know anything about her, despite feeling compelled to defend her just a moment ago…BUT

She held his gaze with icy determination, the sharp lines of her makeup accentuating her fierce expression. Her movements were smooth and deliberate as she pulled out a cigarette, her lips wrapping around the tip in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. With a slow, measured draw, she lit the cigarette, letting it dangle from her fingers as she exhaled a steady stream of smoke. In a flash, she grabbed a glass cup, turned to look at the lady for a brief moment, and then swung it hard at the guy's head. In a swift, decisive move, she grabbed his hair from the back of his head and yanked it, forcing his head downwards. With a forceful push, she slammed his face onto the hard surface of the table. The impact made a loud thud, the sound reverberating through the air as his body slumped over, unconscious, and she casually took the cigarette back between her fingers

Shanks' eyes widened in surprise, completely taken off guard by your swift and unexpected maneuver. His crew members had also turned their attention to the scene, their jaws dropping in shock. He found himself frozen in place for a moment, his mind racing to catch up with what he had just witnessed. You had handled the situation with such speed and precision that it was almost mesmerizing. He couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of fascination and admiration for the way you had just taken charge and dealt with that guy.

“I need her in my ship” shanks muttered with his glance still placed on you, benn smoke a drug of his cigarette and blow it slowly in air “uh ha?”, Shanks chuckled at Benn's skeptical reaction, his eyes never leaving her as she stood over the unconscious man. "as a crew member," Shanks repeated, his voice holding a note of determination.

His crew all looked at him incredulously, clearly surprised by his statement. "WHAT?!" they echoed, their voices laced with disbelief.

Note. Yep, you know what sly, I ate this, anyone this is kind part one, KINDA, cause I’m not sure yet what next but I love this until now, so write your thoughts and what do you think or feel about this .⋆𐙚 🍒₊˚⊹💋˙✧˖°

[gurugirl]

new short series coming next wednesday!

This is a 3 part commissioned request (someone who wishes to remain anonymous) - famous!harry x normie!reader

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's just for tonight. Or is it?

↓ Part 1 Teaser ↓

He began to sing and the sudden density of the situation was overwhelming. He knew the universe was giving him something very special at that instant as he strummed and leaned into the mic as he belted the opening lines. He wanted to keep his awareness about him and not miss a moment. He was in his element.

And the reason he felt the atmosphere change, he was sure of it the second he laid eyes on her, was standing just right of center stage in the pit. An angel with long hair surrounded by a halo of glitter and the loveliest smile he’d seen in a long time. She wore a bodysuit with a flower pattern that hugged her curves with sparkles all over her skin and her shoulders, gleaming in her hair. Glossy pink and red sunglasses shaped like hearts on her face.

He couldn’t help but look at her as he sang and when he stepped away from the mic to let the fans scream the words he narrowed his eyes at the angel in front of the stage and gave her a quick wave, releasing one hand from his guitar to do so. Watching her pretty pink lips drop open wide when she understood he was waving at her she bounced a little and waved back. Harry’s eyes dragged down her frame again and he realized her tits were bouncing with her. He couldn’t help but notice it. They were supple and she was gorgeous. It was hard not to take her all in as she was.

She hadn’t realized it, until that instant, that he’d been looking at her. She figured that was impossible. There were so many other people next to her but the electricity that buzzed through her veins in that moment had her feeling like the only one in the audience. He continued looking at her through the song, his eyes finding hers as he sang and strummed. His smile would deepen each time their gazes met and she felt like she was in a dream. Harry Styles was looking at her and grinning coyly each time his eyes landed on hers.

Y/n was an outspoken person. Someone who didn’t usually hold back with her thoughts and opinions. And even though having Harry looking at her and grinning was making the blood rush to her cheeks and her limbs tremble she knew she needed to call on her boldness to keep his attention. She had an idea before she’d even gotten to the concert that felt like something that would just stay an idea, would remain a little daydream fantasy. But now? She figured why not? She’d seen Harry prancing around at past concerts wearing sunglasses and hats the fans would toss up to him.

But she didn’t want to throw anything up on the stage at him for fear of hurting him or him not seeing it. She wanted to hand him the sunglasses. Maybe they’d even brush fingers. But with the way the stage was set up, she knew that was impossible. Security flanked the fronts and sides and she’d never be able to reach. Instead, she did the next best thing.

The next time Harry spotted her, which was only moments after she decided to enact her plan, she pulled her sunglasses off and pointed at him as she held them up. She was against the barricade near security and Harry’s eyes squinted as he looked at her hand and placed the mic onto the stand before kneeling down next to the man standing in front of the stage. He kept his eyes on the sparkly angel as he pointed at her and spoke to the man who nodded.

The transaction happened in a flash. The man smiled at her as she handed him the heart-shaped sunglasses and then suddenly Harry had them in hand and placed them on his face as he got right back to singing.

The crowd was raucous. Harry wearing cutesy, shiny heart sunglasses got everyone’s attention but Y/n was in awe that he was wearing her cheap dollar store find on his handsome face.

And when the song was over he pulled the sunglasses off and mouthed, “Can I keep these?”

Y/n nodded exaggeratedly and smiled as she bounced a little. It was the best night of her life; she was sure of it. The entire day had been amazing. From the moment she woke up to right then as she had Harry’s grin aimed at her it was perfection. Even her outfit and hair were perfect. She knew it. It was just one of those days and she felt like it was all meant to be.

She danced and swayed to the songs, sang along with the crowd, and Harry kept giving her glances and cheeky smirks. He was definitely flirting with her.

“I can’t believe he’s keeping your sunglasses! What if he wears them after tonight and he’s photographed with them?” Y/n’s co-worker, Ady, was with her. She and Ady were loose friends. They got along well enough and both liked Harry Styles. So when Y/n scored two tickets and her best friend declined to go to the concert with her she asked Ady. She figured Ady would be willing given the colorful TPWK screensaver she had on her work computer.

Harry began to interact with the signs in the crowd. Reading them aloud as he casually paced and laughed and made the fans laugh with him.

But as he walked toward the part of the stage where Y/n and Ady were standing Harry pointed directly at Y/n, “What’s your name?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to keep calm and Ady squealed next to her, “Her name is Y/n!”

Y/n turned to look at Ady and they laughed together but Harry continued, “Her name is what again?” He cupped his ear and leaned in to hear better.

This time Y/n was quick to react, “Y/n!!” She shouted as loudly and clearly as possible.

Harry stood up straight and laughed, “Y/n. Lovely. And your friend’s name?”

Ady shouted her name and Harry nodded, “Is it just the two of you?”

Y/n and Ady nodded with wide grins and Harry sauntered around in the spot as he motioned with his arms, “Y/n, here, gave me a pair of sunglasses and is allowing me to keep them,” he spoke to the fans and then looked back toward Y/n. “And I just wanted to say, thank you, Y/n. That was so thoughtful of you to give them to me.”

She placed her hand over her heart as she shouted, “You’re welcome!” And Harry placed his hand over his heart and winked.

An absolute dream. The whole night had been. The attention she was getting from Harry was something she’d never forget. She was positive that he found her attractive based on the way he kept looking toward her and grinning. It was one of those things that happen in life that make you spark and give you a giddiness that you’ll wake in the middle of the night thinking of or suddenly become overwhelmed with while you’re loading the dishwasher. Something that you take with you and sew into your bones and inwardly smile and gush over. Something that can’t ever be taken away. A small moment in time that’s yours to take with you forever.

Harry did his usual end-of-concert routine, including the whale before jogging off stage. The lights brightened slowly and the sounds of chatter and concertgoers laughing and singing filled the venue.

Y/n wasn’t ready to leave the magic of the concert but all good things must come to an end. As she and Ady were about to file out behind the other pit fans the security guard who handed her sunglasses off to Harry approached her, “You’re both invited backstage. Harry’s invitation.”

[taylorswiftstyle]

Time 2023 Person of the Year | December 6, 2023

Bardot 'Roll Neck Knit Bodysuit' - $69.00

I think we have all collectively lived so many lives within the Swiftieverse in the year 2023. This year has given us so much.

But the greatest gift of all? The editorial photoshoot debut of one Benji Button.

Onto the fashion! Given the high leg cut and pairing with shiny black tights, this look gives me very Madonna vibes. In other photos of her in this simple ribbed bodysuit, we see Taylor flexing her arms - to me a callout to the Eras Tour choreography for "The Man" and of course embodying her power and femininity.

I love that the shoot's team worked together to give a look that's pared back and a play on ballet femininity and strength (styled by Heidi Bivens) while also providing references to some of Taylor's most iconic beauty signatures like tousled curls (by Holli Smith) that feel closer to the natural texture of her debut era, and a bold red lip (by Diane Kendal).

Photo by Inez and Vinoodh for Time

[cha0s-boyy]

zombunny for @skvll-b0y

[ID: a cartoony digital drawing of an anthro zombie rabbit from the thighs up. they are thin and have a flat chest, long lop ears, and a fluffy tail. they have patches of dull green and pinkish gray sewn together, dark pink paw pads, and white eyes without pupils. they have two ear piercings in one ear, and are wearing a shiny dark red-pink bodysuit with a high neck, halter top cut, and high thigh length legs. they are wearing long fingerless gloves and thigh-highs of the same material. they have one eye squinted and the other wide open, and are posed with one arm lifted with a finger raised, and the other down, with their hips cocked, and their body is twisted so their hips are turned to the left and their shoulders to the right. /end ID]

[awesomewithoutme]

My Eras Tour experience!!! (November 15 2024) part 1!

Early in the afternoon I boarded the train to Toronto, and there were so many Swifties there! I found it kinda funny that I could be sitting around people I've spoken to on here without realizing. I knew it was gonna be busy when I arrived, but I hadn't anticipated just how busy it actually was! There was a sea of glittery, shiny people everywhere. I loved looking at everyone's costumes. I saw a Red era hat, an Evermore sweater, lots and lots of bodysuits, some ME! music video suits, a matching mother daughter shirt that said "here's to my mama" "had to listen to all this drama". I saw some Kelce jerseys too. I got lots of bracelets too! I wasn't expecting any because I usually keep to myself, but they made me so happy. Especially the little girl who looked about 7 or 8, little swifties make me so happy. 🥹 walking around in the city was super exciting. I got lots of pictures. My mom was trying to take a picture of me in front of the giant friendship bracelet, but everybody else took out their phones too and I was like *panic* but there were actually police horses dressed in the friendship bracelet necklaces walking behind me! I also got to be near the base of the CN Tower. I've seen it in passing, but I've never been so close before. There was a friendship bracelet painted on the ground. Once we got inside, we wandered around a bit, but it was mostly waiting in lines. The line for popcorn was very long. But there was a nice person who was talking to everybody. (If you read this, I got your Go! Fight! Win! Bracelet and I gave you a Cowboy Like Me bracelet) we did get the popcorn, which is good because it came in a collector bucket! The merch line was so long we had to leave because I didn't wanna miss Gracie. We made it with a little time to spare, and then Gracie came out! She looked so pretty! I really loved Us and Close To You, especially when everyone started jumping around to Close To You. Then, after a bit, the "It's been a long time coming..." bit started up. I really like those fans they have. Then, Taylor came out! In one of my favorite bodysuits, the pink one!! Cruel Summer was so bouncy and fun, and I definitely "proved it." I also noticed that when you look directly at Taylor, she's literally a ball of glitter and sparkles. It was cool to see the Lover house visuals coming together. Her speech about thinking about tonight when we hear the songs from now on made me very happy, because obviously I'm gonna think about this forever. I really love the blue Fearless dress! Also very sparkly! It was exciting to see the red box get rolled out, and I wasn't expecting us to have to finish the lyrics! That was funny! Obviously 22 was a blast, and it was so cute seeing the kid get the 22 hat! it felt great to scream "fuck the patriarchy!" Loud as possible. I got my favorite Speak Now dress, the purple layered one! The Reputation era was so cool, I literally don't even know how to describe it, I could barely even process it! She's really good at the whole villain act. Every Reputation song was super exciting, but especially Look What You Made Me Do! Everything about it is on point. Taylor's dance moves, the other dancers, the on screen visuals, the instrumental, everything. I really love the blue Folklore/Evermore dress! I was kinda neutral on it before, but now I love it! The 1989 visuals were very cool, and I love the colour combo she wore!! Purple and pink!! I love those colours, especially together! I really like the dancing during Style. Blank Space has always been one of my favorite parts, especially when the floor lifts up and there's more Taylors on screen, but seeing it with my own eyes in person was so fun! The energy in the audience was so fun the whole time, but especially during Shake It Off. I knew there was fire visuals during Bad Blood, but I wasn't expecting fire to come out of torches for real! I was far, and I could feel how hot it was! It was so cool! But Daddy I Love Him is such a fun song to sing live! And her TTPD dress is perfect for running and jumping around. 1/2

[glamphantasm]

The Secrets You Keep

Well - I apparently don't know how to write anything happy. Enjoy? Levi's going through it here. Mentions of disordered behaviors and thoughts regarding gender identity (or more to the point, things he isn't really ready to consider).

Leviathan adjusted himself on the padded bench, his body angled just right under the violet-red lights that cast a haunting glow across his form. The sheer bodysuit hugged him like a second skin, the fabric shimmering in the light. A shining leather corset constricted his waist to near nothing, making his ribs ache with a delicious pressure – an electrifying cocktail he could never admit he savored. He could barely breathe, but in this moment, every inhale was a reminder of the discipline he had taken to wielding over his own body.

The layered lace of the mask obscured most of his features, leaving only shiny-slick-lips and piercing gaze visible. The outfit clung, every seam emphasizing curves he barely acknowledged outside this room. Tonight, it’s a cosplay pulled from a niche horror-hentai, a cult classic that he never dreamed he’d have the courage to portray. The character is haunting, darkly feminine, a vampiric figure with a taste for blood and depravity; and his followers adore it. She was one that only a very few would recognize, the risk of anonymity fading felt worth it for now, for this phantom designed to ensnare their fantasies. He leaned closer to the camera, lips parting slightly, a long finger dancing along his collarbone, teasing the promise of skin beneath the fabric.

With each deliberate movement, the chat exploded with comments, donations pouring in like applause for the performance. Leviathan turned before the camera, back arched, letting the deep red waves of the wig cover eyes half-lidded, his fingers lingering over the edge of his corset, teasing just enough to spark another wave of comments and golden banners. He’s painted himself into a stygian dream tonight, this one he’s actually proud of.

> **SpectreFan19 sent ₲50:** "That mask is perfection. Don’t ever stop. Give us more!"

> **xDesires_Ghostx sent ₲300:** "Show us that body, mystery man."

> **CrimsonObsession024 sent ₲100:** "Come on! Just a glimpse under that mask!"

Each chime sent a thrill through him. He relished their desperation, their hunger for more. He knew the role he played, the persona he had sculpted from scraped hollow fragments of himself. They desired the image he presented, a beautifully crafted illusion, an enigma they could never truly grasp. He ran his hand down his thigh, nails long and pointed, painted a deep, clotted bloody red, tearing through his glittering fishnets, the sensation electric against his skin.

> **VeilsAndLace sent ₲250:** "You’re killing me! Just one look behind that mask, please!"

> **ShiverInSilk sent ₲500:** "I’d give anything to see you without that mask. You’re mesmerizing."

The donations became a rhythm, a pulse that thrummed in his ears. Each ping from the alerts ignited something desperate within him, stoking a fire that threatened to consume. He could feel their gazes, their longing – intoxicating and hollow. He pressed his lips together, teasing them with the promise of vulnerability, of revealing just a hint of what lay beneath the mask. His fingers slipped behind his head, an inner voice daring him to untie the mask.

The allure of showing them the truth gnawed at him, a tantalizing whisper in the back of his mind. What would it mean to reveal himself? Would they still want him, would he be ridiculed, or fade into the shadows once more, the laughingstock – the loser, the ugly otaku who deserved nothing more?

At the last second, Leviathan leaned back, rolling his hips, letting the metal stays of the corset bite deeper into his sides, the heat of desire building until it felt like he could burst. He wagged a finger at the camera as his tongue – currently forked – traced over the overdrawn curve of his upper lip.

> **HiddenFantasy777 sent ₲75:** "This is too good. You’re a god. Show us everything."

> **Dark0bsessi0n sent ₲200:** "We’re under your spell. Don’t let us go."

He loved this – this feeling of power, of control. The sensation of being desired, craved. But even as he reveled in the attention, he felt a hollow ache beneath the surface. The donations keep coming, comments piling up like offerings, trying to see past the mask, to peel back just one more layer. And for a second, he’s tempted, fingers brushing along the torn fishnet, teasing, but not quite pulling aside what could generously be called booty shorts, feeling the allure of giving them a peek of what lies beneath. He palms himself with a genuine shudder, eyes fluttering half-closed. It’s a thrill to know they want to see him – to know that with just one slip, he could become real to them. But he never does. He never will. He lets his hand fall, teasing them with nothing but a smirk, knowing they’ll be back, hungry and unsatisfied, begging for more.

> **Bloodcunt99 sent ₲500:** "You’re fucking killing me, gorgeous. I can’t look away."

> **Lurker969 sent ₲75:** "It's the eyes for me. So intense, like you can see right through us…"

> **ShadowedKinks sent ₲100:** "This is what I live for. You’ve got me SPELLBOUND."

Inside, the thrill is laced with something darker, colder. The costume bites into his midsection, a hollow ache that he’s used to by now. He hasn’t eaten properly in days – why bother? Control has become its own reward, a ritual of tightening the strings, of keeping himself sharp and light as air, a slight thing that no one could ever truly know. He’s sculpted himself nearly down to the bone, reduced himself to shadows and latex, and yet it feels like he’s disappearing, slipping further from anything real, from anything he can recognize.

> **HexLover69 sent ₲150:** "You look like a fantasy brought to life. Are you even real?"

Are you even real? The question digs hooks into his mind, a cold, bitter reminder of a truth he could never share with them. He doesn’t feel real, not in the way they think he is. Every bit of control he’s worked for – every evening at the table skipped, every inch tightened, every coquettish flutter of false lashes, every line he’s rehearsed, every sultry giggle – it’s all part of an illusion, a fantasy he’s desperate to keep intact; the only time he feels alive anymore.

He watches himself on the screen, feeling the surreal disconnection as he embodies the seductive figure who effortlessly entices with every movement. In this moment, he’s powerful, flawless, and unreadable. He knows it’s a stranger staring back at him – the stranger they’re in love with, a stranger they’d throw money and secrets at to hope to be allowed to touch, to… he shudders, shutting down that line of thought.

He glanced at the camera, his fingers teasing the top edge of the corset, pulling it down just enough to reveal a hint of pale skin and rouged pink-brown nipple before he stopped short. The thrill of being so close, so intimate, yet so far away made his breath catch. He let out a breathy giggle, the microphone modulating his voice to something lighter, something closer – … more. Leviathan angled himself into the lens, fingers brushing over the laces of his corset. He slowly loosened the deep red ribbon woven around his waist, revealing glimpses of skin beneath the panels of leather as the stays loosen slightly. The way he plays with the ties is captivating, but there's an unsettling gleam in the intensity of his eyes that the mask could never hope to hide.

> **N1ghtRever1e sent ₲150:** "Your skin looks so soft. I want to touch it."

He bit his lip, fangs catching the tender skin as the comment sent a thrill through him, kindling the flicker of desire once more. It was all a performance, even if there was a truth that he dared not examine behind it. Each moment spent in the costume felt like a dance with the ache steadily growing within him, another way to be anyone but himself.

Leviathan knelt before the camera, his hands running along splayed thighs as he gazed up into the lens with a wink that felt almost mocking. He tilted his head slightly, the playful gesture contrasting with the harshly contoured sharpness of his features. The smile on his lips is charming, but there’s a hint of something more in his expression, leaving his supporters aching, hoping. Another flurry of golden banners pops up, each ping earning another tease, another flirty moue, another fraction of a second of hope, before it is, as always, dashed.

He ended the stream slowly, asking for suggestions for next time as he draped a silken robe over his shoulders, reminding them of other socials where he could be found – teasing the possibility of less public shows. He let the last few comments fade away, feeling the emptiness creep in as the screen darkened and he blew a kiss. He pulled off the mask as the green light on the camera blinked off, revealing the pale face hidden beneath, the haunted eyes reflecting the turmoil he kept so carefully hidden.

The room was silent now, the only sound his ragged breathing as he comes to terms with the ache of lingering arousal. The donations have filled his account, mocking the pain gnawing at him from deep within. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, this persona now nearly something he longed to discard, though the allure of the illusion still held him captive. He had created a fantasy for them, a character who shone brightly in the dark, but he could feel that crystalline brilliance dimming as he stood alone, stripped of the performance. He removed the wig, staring at it for a long moment before laying it carefully it on the vanity.

Leviathan stared into the mirror, drawing his hands along his face, smudging the heavy makeup into dark, glittering rivulets that spread as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He stared blankly at the stranger he wished on some level he could be.

All too soon, a hollowed version of himself – worn, weary, a cold, gnawing sensation spreading through his veins – yearning for something beyond the facade was all that remained. He grabbed at the bodysuit, nails tearing through the delicate fabric as he pulled it from his body, once more burying the emptiness he knew would never be filled.

The tingling thrill of his performance faded with each trembling breath, Leviathan left wondering which him would remain in the end.

[razzafrazzle]

yee. haw

[image description: a drawing of an original character named m. m is a fat, pale-skinned humanoid with red pompadour hair in the shape of a heart, a mustaches, and sharp teeth. he is wearing a shiny black bodysuit with matching boots, gloves, and cowboy hat, as well as earrings resembling padlocks. he is sitting with his legs spread and making a finger-gun motion, and he also has a large golden chain draped around his body. end id]

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 17: Anyone

word count: 4.3k

ao3 | wattpad

Gwen

Contrary to my scheme several weeks ago, I severely wish I had had more time to find a costume for tonight. Three days just wasn’t enough time. Now I’m standing in front of a mirror, in a bodysuit two sizes too small, wishing I could cover up. If I was still hell-bent on making Joel uncomfortable, this outfit would have done it.

I originally thought my hair would be the statement, as my blonde waves had been styled to be the curliest they could manage. Which, apparently, was quite curly. Aria was beyond excited that I was working with Brissel, and she used probably half a tub of curl-defining cream. After Mateo added a red lip, they left for another booking. Now, I’m alone with what is essentially lingerie. Evelyn had sent me a judge costume to ensure I was completely covered, whereas Harper had sent over a fireman costume that consisted primarily of shiny red leather. I added tights underneath the bodysuit for some extra coverage, but if it weren’t for the miniature hat fastened atop my head, I could easily pass as some scantily-clad superhero. Especially with the added high-heeled, red leather boots. The outfit highlighted my curves so much that I considered being a judge for a moment. That is, before Harper texted me a picture of her dalmatian costume, telling me how excited she was that we were going to match. Damn her too-good-for-this-earth smile.

A few months ago, I would wear this without hesitation. I’d go with the intention tonight of getting as many likes as possible, impressing the brand with my engagement, having fun with my friends, and potentially taking another man home. And I despised, despised, the fact that now, for the first time, I’m actually nervous to walk out in front of Joel. I hike up the strapless front a little higher, and grimace when that only seems to draw attention to my chest even more.

Tonight’s about having fun, Gwen. When did you start to give a shit about what other people think?

I shake out my arms and wiggle my shoulders, shimmying away all the anxious energy on my way to the door.

Joel is waiting in the living room, just as I expected. I know he heard me coming, as the click-clacking of these shoes would guarantee, but he’s busy looking down at his phone.

I asked him earlier to wear the suit he wore to the wedding, minus the bowtie. I might have been imagining—or god forbid wishing—things, but I think there was a touch of excitement when I asked. And a small smile makes its way to my face now that he’s obliged me.

“I’m all set,” I announce, starting to make my way to the elevator.

This gets his attention, though only momentarily. Joel looks away as soon as he sees me, which quickly makes my face match my bodysuit. My heart hammers in my chest, noting how his free hand clenches into a fist.

“Alright,” He clears his throat, following behind me, eyes now on the floor.

“There’s just one more thing before we go…” I find the small package in the second hall closet, handing him the box with a smirk.

Joel rummages through the contents for a moment. “Are you giving me a uniform now?”

“It’s a costume. Badge, sunglasses, little pen that you can pretend has a flash in it. You can be one of the Men in Black.”

He pulls out the badge as if he’s dismantling a bomb.

“I’m assuming it will be a big fat no, but I toned it down just in case. This way no one will question your ever-present frown.”

Joel gives me a look, even as he fastens the badge to his lapel.

“You’ve assumed incorrectly.”

I ignore the giddy feeling moving up through my toes with a shrug. “There’s a first time for everything. Don’t forget the tie.”

Joel puts the sunglasses on next, and they sit a little too well on his smoothed hair. Secretly, I had hoped that he would style it just as he had at the wedding. The fact that he has makes it even more difficult not to stare as he puts the pen in his pocket and slings the tie around his neck. Watching his hands as he affixes it, so carefully and controlled, a thought shoots through my mind like lightning. His hands wrapping the fabric around my wrists, the sound it would make as it pulls it taut.

I drag myself over to press the elevator button, like putting space between us will somehow lessen the chances of him being a mind reader. I need to be out of telepathic earshot if that sort of thing is going to pop into my head.

After the trek to Brooklyn, made easier by Rod’s aversion to following traffic laws, we arrive at the event. Joel had told me there was no back entrance, as the club for the L'ensemble and Brissel event was quite small in comparison to some of Russell Corporation's events. There are only a handful of photographers outside, and it looks as though two of them were hired by the event organizers themselves. It offers me a little relief as I grab Joel’s offered hand, stepping out to the flashing lights. This part, I’m used to. Ironically, I was more covered in this sexed-up fireman costume than I was in my dress for the last gala. With Joel standing behind me to the left, it’s a little easier to pose as I normally would, fluffing my hair and pushing my hips to the side.

A couple of them call my name, asking for different angles. The side-eye Joel gives the one who asks for a back-shot doesn’t go unnoticed. I smile at them, giving a quick thanks, before heading inside with Joel’s hand hovering behind me as usual. Any composed, photo-ready smile turns cheesy and borderline goofy when I see a spotted pair of ears bouncing on over to me.

“You made it!” Harper squeals, wrapping me into a big hug. I find myself waiting until she lets go first.

“I missed you,” I say as quietly as I can. Her green eyes shine, squeezing my hand. I didn’t tell her about the flowers. I only said that there was a false alarm at the wedding and I’ve decided that having a bodyguard is a good idea, once and for all. I also may have embellished how much work is stressing me out. Not that it wasn’t, but having an excuse to my radio silence that wouldn’t involve scaring her was helpful.

“Hey Joel! Love the costume.” Harper smiles at him. He does his best to match her enthusiasm, and fails.

“Thank you, it’s uh, it was all her—Miss Russell.” His sunglasses sit just far enough down his nose that I can see him look over at me before looking away just as fast.

“This looks incredible!” I pivot, perking up as I take in the disco balls mixed with cobwebs and purple lighting.

“Thank you! I had zero part in it,” She beams. “Everyone else is already here. C’mon!” Harper drags me through the crowd of people, pointing out different setups along the walls of new products for people to try. “The marketing director is here, I think she’ll want to snap a few pictures of you with the products later. Especially with that hair of yours, because damn.”

“It was all Aria’s idea.”

“Was it her idea to go with my costume instead of Evelyn’s?”

I lean forward so that Joel won’t be able to hear, even though the music around is pounding. “Was it your idea to purposely size down this thing? I can hardly breathe.”

Harper radiates mischief, looking over her shoulder. “Of course not. It was Nyah’s.”

Speaking of the devil herself, she dressed the part. Complete with a sparkly black and red pitchfork.

“Give us a spin!” She points the styrofoam weapon at me, and I do as she commands even with an eyeroll.

“I hear I have you to blame for this,” I can’t help but smile at her satisfied expression.

“Well,” she bends down to my ear, “If I had known, I would have bought you a little alien number instead.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, eyes flicking up to Joel before she gives him a small wave.

“You’re never going to give that up, are you?”

“Not until you give in. You know you want to,” Nyah practically sings.

“Gwen, hi!” Elijah saves me from the possibility of answering that rhetorical question.

“Hey Elijah,” I bring him into a hug as Landon approaches behind us.

“A firefighter? Very hot,” Landon winks. Elijah and them are dressed as…

“Detectives?” I ask, looking back and forth between their old school caps and the pipe hanging out of Landon’s mouth.

“Sherlock and Watson,” Elijah’s ecstatic smile gives Harper’s a run for her money. My heart melts seeing how Landon smiles at him, and I can’t help but return it.

“We need some drinks!” Harper declares, loud enough for some people behind us to holler back in agreement.

Two tequila sodas later, I finish up my photo op with Brissel. Ada, the marketing director, is so down-to-earth that I forget that I’m being paid to promote them. We’ve made plans to get coffee before Nyah and the rest of the group are begging me to make our way to the second floor, where the real fun begins.

They must have fit two to three hundred people in the already cramped space. The floor lights up in different hues of purple, each square combining to form a kaleidoscope. The music was even louder up here than the floor below, and dozens of people crowd toward the DJ, mimicking his hand motions. Nyah pulls us into the middle of the dance floor, with Landon and Elijah quickly making the excuse that they needed more drinks. They take our orders, but I don’t expect to see them for some time. The way they keep looking at each other… they’re probably going to find some dark corner to “investigate.”

Joel lingers close to my side, standing as straight as an arrow, eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“So they’re already at the matching couple’s costume phase, huh?” I ask the girls before Harper can spin in too many circles for her to see or hear straight.

“Apparently. Who knew Landon would be such a lover?” Nyah muses.

“Are we still allowed to be commitment-phobes?” Harper asks, “If all of you start to get into relationships I’ll be pissed.”

“I don’t fall into that category, if you recall.” Nyah flips her hair over her shoulder, making Harper laugh.

“Okay, two long-term relationships make you exempt. Gwen?”

Again, that weird twinge of embarrassment whips through my chest. Why did I wish Joel was on the other side of the room right now?

“You know the answer to that.” I try to be as vague as possible, but Harper’s eyes widen with glee.

“Thank god,” She reaches for my hand, spinning me around. That, at least, makes me laugh before I stumble backwards, Joel’s arm reaching out to steady me.

It’s not a conscious decision—to look up at him. But everything in my body pulls my eyes upward, the way tourists do after taking their first steps outside of Grand Central. Except even now, I still haven’t tired of the view.

Of New York, I mean. Obviously.

Joel doesn’t pull his eyes away, but he arches a brow, the slightest ghost of a smile on his face. “You alright?”Why does New York’s accent have to come out so strong when he asks that?

I square my shoulders, which seems to give him some idea that I want his arm to leave my back, though that isn’t the case.

“You could move a little, you know. Unless you’re just getting into character.”

Joel adjusts his tie, “Yeah. Not really my kind of music. Or dancing, for that matter.”

“I can’t imagine there is a kind of dancing you do enjoy,” I challenge, leaning forward to close some of the space between us. I can feel both Nyah and Harper’s eyes burn into the side of my face, even though they keep moving to the beat. I’ll get shit for this later, I’m sure. They’ll call it flirting, and I’ll tell them they’re reading into it too much. I have just enough alcohol in my system to not read into it at all.

“Well, maybe you just haven—”

I feel a tap on my arm as Joel stiffens beside me. Turning to my right, I come face to face, more like face to chest, with another fireman. Tall, burly, and dirty blonde. At least from what I could see poking out from underneath his hat. His hat, suspenders, and thick ‘fireproof’ pants were the bigger indications of his costume, seeing as his chest was bare.

“If this place gets any hotter, you and I will be put to work.” He smiles, exposing teeth so white I wonder if they’re veneers.

I fight the urge to cringe. I do one, quick glance over to Harper and Nyah to confirm that they were, in fact, watching this interaction the way a cat watches a laser pointer. I have to entertain him, just a little. Otherwise there will be an onslaught of questions tomorrow.

“I hope not. You aren’t exactly suited up for it,” I point to his abs. His eyes twinkle with excitement, the way all men’s do when their pickup line is well received.

“Speak for yourself!” He shouts over the music, eyeing my costume down to the boots. “That outfit may burn the place down on its own.”

In an effort to avoid him looking even longer at my breasts, I change the conversation. “I’m Gwen,” I stick out my hand, forcing him to look me back in the eye.

“Gwen? I’m Aidan.”

Aidan keeps a hold of my hand, spinning me gently so that I’m mainly facing away from him. I’m sure he intends it to be intimate, but it only makes me acutely aware of how rigid Joel has gone next to me. His sunglasses are still in place, but I know he’s watching every breath of this interaction.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Aidan says in my ear, as quietly as the music will allow. “I’ve been trying to come over here since you walked in.”

I twist my head to look up at him. “Thank you…”

In truth, he is very good looking. Exactly the type of distraction I would normally gravitate towards. So why am I unable to return the compliment? Why can’t I think of any sort of reply other than the basics?

“Do you live in Brooklyn?” Not my best, but at least it’s something.

Aidan starts to rock us back and forth, his hand dropping to my waist.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that this guy wouldn’t dance with you.” He ignores my question entirely. “Any guy in here would be crazy not to.”“Oh,” I let out an awkward, forced laugh, “Yeah, not everyone is up for it, I guess.”

“I am,” His hand grazes lower, down to the front of my thigh. The thin layer of my tights doesn’t feel like enough of a barrier. He pushes me against him by doing so, and I can feel the heat from his chest against my back.

All of this is normal. Swiveling my hips, hearing him hum in approval, lulling my head back to rest against him while we sway to the music.

This feeling, however, is not.

My heart is pumping almost double the speed it normally would after a few songs. The heat Aidan is giving off begins to feel stifling, and I feel a couple beads of sweat drip down my back. And there’s this weird twist in my stomach as the thought of the note flashes through my mind. It takes everything in my power not to look over at Joel who is both painfully close to us and still not close enough. I do catch Nyah’s smirk at one point, both of the girls then turning around to find their own dance partners. When they do so, it feels like the crowd around us pulls tighter inward. Like even if something were to happen right now, and Joel was close by, there would still be nowhere for us to go. Nowhere to run. And as I catch a whiff of Aidan’s cologne, I think once again of the note.

I can only wait and wonder if you smell just as sweet.

This couldn’t be him, could it?

The thought leaves me frozen, back arched against Aidan. It could be anyone. What are the odds that my stalker would be at this party? It was invite-only. Maybe he could have followed me, but getting in would be incredibly difficult. I should have asked him if he knew who I was to gauge his reaction, but that idea makes me feel nauseous. I’ve never wanted to be someone who assumed everyone knew who I was. Most of the time, I went by completely unbothered. This is probably just another guy, like any other night.

But…what if it’s not? What if it is him? What if he’s this close to my friends, and to Joel? What if I put everyone in danger just by showing up tonight?

The room feels darker, and I now feel encased by Aidan’s arm. He hasn’t even noticed I’ve stopped dancing, or if he has, he’s chosen to ignore it. The quick, rhythmic beat around us clashes with the unsteady, erratic pounding in my chest, and I start to shake my head, pulling away from Aidan. At first, he pulls back, maybe assuming it’s part of some move or something.

“I–um, I’m sorry,” I break away, facing him with an apologetic smile. His face is flushed, not even looking at mine. His eyes glaze over my body only, and I know he barely heard me. Just to my right, Joel still stands, straighter and stiffer than I’ve seen him before. Though since I’ve pulled away from Aidan, Joel has taken half a step in between us. I’m glad I can’t see what his eyes are focused on.

“C’mere,” Aidan says over the music, reaching for me again. My heart hasn’t stopped racing, and I lurch back, immediately embarrassed by my response. I can’t see any of my friends nearby as I turn to push through the crowd. When I feel a presence close behind me, panic shoots down my arms. Until the familiar scent of spice fills my senses, and I know it’s just Joel, doing his job.

I continue to push through the crowd until I see the doors to a balcony, and the promise of fresh air calls to me like a siren.

“Miss Russell,” I hear Joel’s gruff voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. “Miss Russell, slow down.”

I can’t. There isn’t enough air in here. And he’s with me anyway. Why should I slow down? I push past the last crowd of people with relative ease, almost stumbling against the railing, letting the chilly air hit my skin. I focus on the alleyway below, wondering how many breaths it will take to feel normal again.

“Miss Russell,” Joel repeats, placing only one hand on the railing to my left so he can face me instead. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” another deep breath, “I just needed a—moment.”

Even from the corner of my eye I can see his eyebrow crease forming. He surveys the balcony, probably trying to assess how many people can eavesdrop, before lowering his voice. “Did Aidan do something?”

I didn’t know he had been close enough to hear his name. That better be all he heard.

“What? No.” I roll my head to the side, stretching my neck. Despite all the dancing, I feel more tense than when we arrived. Thankfully, the music is quiet out here, and there’s only a handful of people mulling about.

I can feel Joel looking at me, the concern pouring in even though I refuse to engage with it. It takes several minutes for me to feel like I have enough control over myself to stop gripping the railing as tightly, and eventually I can look elsewhere besides the alley.

Even with what I can see in my periphery, I still jump, looking at Joel startled as he places his suit jacket over my shoulders.

“You’re shivering,” he says apologetically.

On some other night, several weeks ago, I would have objected before he’d even finished giving it to me. Now, I pull it tighter around myself, taking a long whiff of the comforting scent rolling off of it.

“Thank you.” I try to give him a small smile.

“What happened?” Joel asks softly.

I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”

I try to focus on the Manhattan lights in the distance, knowing that if I look at Joel as I ask this, I’ll feel far too weak. “Do you think it could be him?”

He doesn’t answer me right away, but I know he understands. He just continues to watch me, as if trying to determine if I can handle his opinion.

“It could be anyone,” his voice is gruff with honesty. “Which is a good, and bad, thing.”

“Right,” I sniffle, hoping it will stave off the thick lump forming in my throat.

“I do think it’s unlikely. He had a confidence that I wouldn’t anticipate from stalkers. Why send things to you if he has the balls to approach you in public?”

He still sounds just as honest, not that I would ever take Joel as someone who would sugarcoat anything. A virtue I very much appreciate.

“That’s a good point,” I sigh, my heart rate slowing further.

“Don’t sound too surprised.”

I finally turn towards him, his concern having sizzled, looking slightly relieved to have me make eye contact. And for the first time this evening, he doesn’t instantly look away.

“Contrary to popular belief, Miller, I do actually think you know how to do your job. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

He tries to hide his smile by looking out at the view. “I’m the one forced to wear a costume, but I’m the pain in the ass?”

“I went easy on you! I could have made you a dalmatian with Harper.” I giggle, and he looks back at me with an unrestrained smile.

I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile like this before. He has a dimple, for christ’s sake. His entire face lights up, and it reminds me that there is a man in there that plays the guitar, and has nightmares, and always remembers to get me dinner when I forget to get it for myself.

I’m screwed.

“Are you married?”

What the fuck? Why did I ask that? I would blame the tequila, but most of my buzz has faded. Much like Joel’s smile, now that it’s been replaced with surprise.

“No.”

I want him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

Well, if he’s going to play coy.

“Do you have a significant other?” I try to phrase it correctly, remembering Nyah’s comment that he might not be into women. I suppose that’s still a possibility, but there’s a very irritating

amount of hope inside me that it isn’t true.

“No.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really? No relationship at all?”

“No.”

“That was a quick answer.”

“Relationships are complicated.”

“That was a non-committal answer.”

“What answer do you want?” He sounds exasperated now.

“The truth.”

Joel doesn’t reply right away. I realize that with each breath, we’ve been inching closer and closer to each other until we’re practically chest to chest. My breathing is back to being erratic, though for a completely different reason. For a second, Joel’s darkened eyes fall to my lips, and for a faster, almost undetectable moment, they fall to my chest. Unlike how I felt with Aidan, I didn’t want him to look away. The nearly pained expression on his face makes heat pool in my belly, before dropping lower…

Joel clears his throat, taking a step back. It’s a motion that wafts the cool air against my face, reminding me where I am.

“The truth is I can’t, really. It interferes with the job,” His voice is clipped, gaze focused on something off in the distance.

I doubt he’ll look at me again for the rest of the night.

“I see.”

This is his career, after all. Judging by his temperament alone, he wouldn’t do anything that could put that at risk. I shouldn’t push him too, either. The stress of recent events has to be the explanation of all of this. Joel may be a handsome guy, but I can handle handsome. I must just be in need of a distraction.

You left a perfectly good distraction on the dance floor, Gwen.

Maybe I had no explanation, then. Which means I also don’t have a good reason, so I need to let it go.

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Miller.”

Joel nods, still refusing to look me in the eye. I start to unfurl myself from his jacket, but he just motions for me to start walking.

“Keep it. We have a long trip back.”

I don’t bother arguing about how quick the walk outside to the car is, or how my seat will be heated. In part, because I’m tired, but also in part because I’d like to breathe in his scent a while longer. I pull the fabric tighter around me, clinging to the thought of his eyes and scent lingering, even as I make a mental promise to let these feelings go. Eventually.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[thebestestbat]

Omega Dick Week Day Seven: FREE DAY

Micro/macro Dick&Scarecrow, NSFW, 800 words

warnings: rape/non-con, fear toxin, bondage, experiments, captivity, etc.

-

Nightwing is about 5 inches tall and so Scarecrow needs a steady hand to cut the doll-sized latex bodysuit off of him. He nicks him only once with the scalpel and once he’s done the boy is so stiff and unmoving that he almost looks like a doll. Or like he’s dead. 

Scarecrow uses surgical tape to secure him to a sterile tabletop, limbs arranged in a little “X” on the shiny metal. He admired the long limbs, muscles underneath the skin, the smooth arms and legs—perhaps to help with sliding the latex on and off every night?—and patch of hair hiding his cunt. He spies a rectangular sticker on the base of Nightwing's neck and peels that off so very carefully with a fingernail, leaving behind a little red mark. 

Imagine his surprise when the scent that reaches his nose when he flicks the scent-blocker away is one of an omega! That increases the number of potential buyers once Scarecrow is done with him and returns him to his usual size. What a catch, this one. But he had better hurry, before Batman gets the memo and bursts in through the window.

He leaves the mask on the boy's face, to be nice. 

Nightwing has his jaw clenched and his hands tensed into tiny fists above his head. And they haven't even gotten started!

"Sh, sh, sh," Scarecrow says. He pets over the small figure soothingly with one gloved finger, marveling at the texture of his slightly-damp skin and sand-grain nipples, the vibrations of his breathing, the prickle of his pubic hair that he can feel even through the latex. Yes, he spends a while rubbing his fingertip against the whole of Nightwing's cunt. He is only a man after all. It is interesting to watch the boy squirm when Scarecrow presses his fingernail just slightly inward, exposing dusty pink skin and a cute clit. How he wants to lift his mask from his face and taste it!

Saliva wouldn't do much to change any experimental results... But he did work hard to keep the area sterile, and it wouldn't do to tarnish that now. He has the self control to wait until afterwards. 

Scarecrow makes sure his mask is sealed around his nose and mouth, then turns to the side of the table and uncaps a small bottle. When he tilts it, the yellowish liquid inside leaves stains on the glass. He dips a q-tip into the liquid and then presses it against the walls of the bottle, squeezing out as much excess as he can. Once it is only damp and not dripping, Scarecrow closes the bottle and turns to his captive. 

Nightwing is shaking, a small tremor most visible in his hands and feet. His eyes beneath the mask are wide, white visible all around the iris. 

"It's okay," Scarecrow soothes in a low voice, like he's gentling a scared dog. He's never done that before, but no dog has ever been this cute. His words have no effect. In fact, it seems like they have the opposite effect, as Nightwing starts to breathe hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly while his face and chest turn red. Scarecrow worries that he is going to panic himself unconscious before they even get started. That won't do at all. 

With the hand not holding the q-tip, he reaches for a strip of gauze and then carefully places it down over Nightwing's face. It covers his arms and half his chest too. At his size, the weight of it is probably comparable to a blanket, though Scarecrow still uses his index and ring fingers to hold down the corners so Nightwing doesn't throw it off with his thrashing. Soon enough the thrashing slows down and stops. Scarecrow keeps a close eye on the movement of the boy's chest, when his focus isn't drawn towards the tensing and relaxing of the boy's meaty thighs. He wants to force him to focus on his breathing and cut off the panic, not smother him to death. 

Eventually, Nightwing calms enough that Scarecrow can take the gauze off his face. It sticks to his face a bit: saliva, snot, tears. Scarecrow uses a corner of the pad to dab at the boy's tiny cheeks. His eyes are shut tight now, but he gives away that he is conscious by moving his head away.

He whispers: "It's all going to be just fine. Yes, there you go. Just like that." And goes on like that, other soothing nonsense, as he discards the gauze into a trash can underneath the table. Then he turns his attention back to the garishly-yellow q-tip. Some of the fear toxin must have evaporated, but there is still enough—for stage one, at least. 

With the whole naked body spread before him, he has a glut of options, all that bare skin. It is an easy choice; the only thing that could improve it is if the boy shaved here as well. Scarecrow carefully, softly rubs the damp q-tip against Nightwing's cunt. 

[jamies-latex-lust]

The Curse That Keeps On Giving

You are sleeping in your bed one night, when you're awakened by a loud sound.

You jump up, only to be pinned down by something.

You fish around for your light, and when you turn it on, you see a woman clad in a black latex bodysuit pinning you to your bed. The only thing you can make out of the woman are her red lips and sharp fangs. Everything else is covered in shiny, black latex. The woman looks incredibly dangerous, and she stares at you with an evil light in her eyes.

"Who are you?" you ask, your voice trembling. "A vampire," the woman says. You gulp. "Oh, don't worry, my precious," the vampiress says. "I will not kill you. I only want to drink your blood." "But... but you're a vampire! You'll turn me into one too!" "Oh, I'm not worried about that," the vampiress says, her tone completely unchanged. "By the time I'm through with you, you'll want to be like me." "But..." You try protesting again. The vampire simply covers your mouth with her hand. "Quiet now," the vampire says in a comforting tone. "You'll see. This will be a most pleasurable experience, for the both of us." The vampire pulls off the mask covering her face. She's an absolute beauty who takes your breath away. While you're stunned by her appearance, she bites into your neck. You're filled with pain for a second, until a wave of euphoria overcomes you. She was right. This is the most pleasurable thing you've ever felt. "It's so delicious," the vampire says as she moves to the other side of your neck and begins feeding again. You feel her body moving up and down on your own, as her latex brushes against your skin. This, too, feels great. In this moment, you wish you were wearing her outfit too. The vampire stops feeding and stares into your eyes. "How do you feel?" she asks. "I feel great," you say. "Never felt better." The vampire smiles. "Good, because the best is yet to come." She begins feeding on you again. As she does, you find your body starts feeling different. At first, you think it's from the blood loss, but as it continues, you see your feet have turned black and shiny, just like the latex that the vampiress is wearing. No! Not just like the latex. Your skin is turning entirely into latex. As the vampire feeds more and more, you transform faster and faster. And you want it to go fast. You can't wait to be a Latex Vampire like the woman currently feeding on you. As the latex creeps up your chest, two large mounds form on your chest. You're growing breasts just like hers. You're becoming exactly like her. The vampire finishes her feeding and pulls away. You feel your face grow hard and smooth like hers, your hair growing longer and fuller. You turn your head and look at your neck. The latex has already covered it. "Yes," the vampire says, licking her lips. "You belong to me now." The vampire gives you one quick kiss on the cheek before the latex covers everything except your mouth. Your teeth grow into fangs. Your lips turn red. You are now a Latex Vampire, the same as the woman who just sucked your blood. "How do you feel, darling?" The vampiress asks seductively. "Wonderful," you say. "Never felt better." The vampiress smiles at your response. "Good. I'm glad you like it," she says. "Now, what would you like to do?" You know exactly what you must do. You never felt such pleasure before, and know others would love to be fed on by a Latex Vampire before turning into one themselves. You have to share this. "Let's go feed," you say. "Yes," the vampire agrees. "Let's go feed." The vampiress leads you out of your house in the Latex outfits, heading towards the nearby city to find willing victims. You enter the house of a young man. He stirs from his sleep as you hide away in the darkness of his room. When he sits up, you pounce on him and pin him to his bed.

He turns the light on and looks at you.

"You're... You're..." He stammers.

"A vampire," you say. "Yes. And don't worry. By the time I'm through with you, you'll want to be just like me."

[myanxietydemonaretootired]

So... I was bored and watched lesbian tiktoks for like an hour. Then I was like, I wanna write something cute and wrote just a small thing but I liked it.

Available on Ao3 too :]

I kissed Emily Prentiss

Two days ago, Garcia came to the bureau with four tickets for a new club that had recently opened a few blocks near her house, the "Jennifer's Body" nightclub. She had been waiting for months for it to be up and ready for business.

"C'mon, JJ! We really need to unwind and I swear, it'll be totally fun! Also, hello, the name. Jennifer's Body has to have Jennifer's Body! Your beautiful JJ Body!" She took my hand and lifted me up from my chair. "Please, let's dance! Let's dance."

"We haven't had fun in forever. I'm IN!" Tara joined in the conversation.

Tara backed up Penelope and started dancing with her. I couldn't help but laugh. I have been under a lot of stress, we all have. This job sometimes makes us forget to love life and to take time for the little things, like a good night out with friends. And who better to remind me than the one and only Penelope Garcia? We should start paying her for it. I looked at Emily, expecting her response to Penelope's offer.

"I heard girls called Jennifer drink for free." She said. It was all it took.

"Let's go, ladies," I say, and we go to get ready.

I never imagined a nightclub like this one. All the pink, purple and mirrors with phrases like "so hot" and "beautiful babe" written with what appears to be lipstick. The whole place was made for girls by girls. As soon as we set foot here, Garcia and Tara lost themselves in the music and started dancing surrounded by all the other girls who happily embraced them, especially Tara, so many of them tried to dance with her. I get it. She looks amazing, in a black dress with some see-through parts, and Pen did her make-up. Well, she did everyone's make-up. Garcia also looks great, in a tight dress with puffed sleeves and she put hot pink extensions on her head.

However, I can't stop staring at Emily. A sleeveless red bodysuit with a cut down the middle and tight black shorts, there is a little space between her bodysuit and her shorts where you can see her skin. I don't know why I keep looking at that space, it's hypnotising. I feel my mouth dry and I drink another cosmopolitan. Girls surround her and ask permission to touch her while they dance. That's a little intrusive, right? Does she feel comfortable with it?

One of the girls is complimenting her hair, which I did. Curls in her shiny jack-black hair. I remember how my breath stopped the moment we got too close. She said: "Don't be shy, sit here." She pulled me onto her lap as I curled her hair, winning one point from our weird flirtation-ship competition. Who can make the other one the most hot and breathless without any sex? I don't get it. How can she make me feel like this? How can someone have so much power over my feelings without...

Well, without what? Do I like her?

I look at Emily flirt with that girl; she's pretty, I guess; a cute short girl with a buzzcut. Emily eclipses any woman and enby in this room. The outfit hugging her figure and I can just trace every part of her over it. I feel like a psycho staring at her this way, I don't feel myself but oxygen is not entering my body. I must have gone mad, I feel asphyxiated. I want her to get away from buzzcut girl, I want us to go running to a bathroom stall and just kiss each other. I would grab her by the neck, and she would hug my waist. We would use the wall as our only support because our legs aren't responding. I'd ask for permission to deepen the kiss. I'm biting my lip just imagining it.

I make my way to her, putting myself in between the other girl and my Emily. I notice she's been staring at me too, and I smile because I know she wants this too. I whisper in her ear "Can I kiss you?"

"God, finally."

She envelopes my mouth with hunger, hugging me. I grab her by the face, her hair all over my hands.

I kissed Emily Prentiss.

[perlukafarinn]

Rating Star Trek TOS costumes because why not! (part 2)

Mudd's Women (1x06). Delightfully tacky and I love the audacity of wrapping the third one in a sparkly blanket while the other two get full pageant gowns. The green dress is my favorite, that cut-out is to die for. 8/10.

What Are Little Girls Made Of? (1x07). I'm sorry but that jumpsuit goes so hard. This is the peak of 60s retro futurism, both impractical as hell and also weirdly utilitarian in design. I don't care that it would 100% give you camel toe, I need two. 9/10.

The men this episode get similar outfits but 10x worse. Dr. Brown actually might be wearing the same jumpsuit as Andrea but the shirt underneath ruins it. Kirk's jumpsuit is boring af but I think we can all agree I needed to include that picture. 3/10.

The Conscience of the King (1x13). Lenore wears six different outfits this episode and they are all terrible. I know she kills like a dozen people but her crimes against fashion might be the worst of all.The fur mini-dress with the shiny tights takes the cake, absolutely unforgivable. 2/10.

Balance of Terror (1x14). Our first look at the Romulans and they're wearing what seem to be carpets. I do like the color-blocking moment (very Next Gen) and the silly helmets absolutely delight me, so all in all not as bad as it could be. 5/10.

Shore Leave (1x15). I remembered Ruth's dress as being very conservative but looking at it again it's really not. I can't even tell what I'm looking at, it's like a see-through caftan over a bodysuit maybe? The hair looks great, though. 6/10.

Also from Shore Leave, these are the most baffling costume choices in maybe all of TOS. They look like furry creamsicles. They look like they skinned and dyed a bunch of tribbles. They look like they're from the red light district of Sesame Street and also it's Easter. Note the matching bellybutton jewelry, perhaps the most inexplicable design detail of all. 10/10, I can't help but stan.