#long sheer black gloves

[whatkatiediduk]

Gloves might primarily be worn for keeping your hands cosy, but they also add a glamorous allure, especially when it comes to vintage inspired opera length gloves.

This year we redesigned our black satin gloves making them a true opera length: the same length as our best selling sheer version. 

A couple of years ago we had a fabulous surprise when none other than Dame Joan Collins wore our Long Sheer Gloves in the New Year edition of You Magazine. She wears hers ruched down a little making them more suitable for daywear and perfect for wearing with 1950s bracelet-length sleeved jackets.

Earlier this year I customized a pair of our Long Sheer Gloves adding fringing. This was incredibly easy to do as the side seams have very little stretch (the most difficult part was unpicking the seam). I used a zigzag stitch along the seam but if you don't have a sewing machine could hand stitch.

Don't keep just to fringing though. You could add a row of buttons or rhinestones to match your party outfit.

[nicolenaughty]

Marta Kowalczyk

[theseimmortalcoils]

Glorious berry gown and sheer gloves from Zuhair Murad, autumn 2023. Photographer unknown.

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[sadesluvr]

I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about Stu/Ghostface coming face to face with a horror fanatic female!reader character and she finds his whole Ghostface thing incredibly sexy ^^’

'Some Kind of Groupie' - Ghostface x Reader

A/N: YAY MY FIRST GHOSTFACE / Scream ASK! TYSM Anon, I’m going to be updating my header to say who I write for, but take this as a sign to ask for Scream related content :) 

I didn’t specify which Ghostface, so fill in the blanks…(Outside of one line, they’re silent in this anyway, which I think is hot) Also, Reader is implied to be a little unhinged but we love her. Enjoy!

Ghosts. Killers. Blood. Guts. 

Gore. 

You loved it. All of it.

Which was why you were sat calmly on your bed, a devilish look in your eye and a smirk on your face as you stared up at the figure in front of you. Sheathed in black with an unmistakable white mask and contorted features was the Ghostface, the fiend’s signature knife pointed out at you and aimed towards your exposed neck.

Others would tremble and beg for their life, but not you.

“I’ve heard all about you…” you said seductively. “You’re the killer who’s sweeping our town. You’ve killed a lot of people…”

The figure cocked their head. 

“I don’t blame you…” you said, playing with the strap of your nightie, your movements inviting by dragging the fabric down your bare skin. “…They probably deserved it,” 

The figure was likely going to kill you; but the sheer thought of being choked under their strong grip or motion of gloved hands smearing bloody remnants across your eager lips as you were ravished to death was enough to send a tingle down your spine and a heat straight to your pussy.

The masked individual was now looming over you, and you instinctively stopped touching your clothes. Using the blade of its knife, it hooked under the strip of fabric, slowly beginning to continue pulling it down for you, the tip of the blade grazing your skin ever so slightly.

Your heart practically leapt out of your chest. You wondered how long you’d been stalked; if they’d seen you fiddle with knives (for just a bit too long) when you were out at dinner with your friends, or how you were lined up front and centre at every new Craven or Carpenter release. Better yet, if they’d seen the way you’d touch yourself when you popped in a horror movie into the VCR, shoving your vibrator deeper into your pussy as the killer chased down the buxom blonde, her clothes ripping off in her panicked flurry. There was always something about how the victim would be cornered, and the killer; either an endearing psychopath or a deformed sleaze, would grab and pull at the body, walking that oh-so fine line between arousal and murder.

Nothing but your panties remained. The material didn’t last long around your legs, as the killer ran its gloved fingers up your thighs, stopping as it reached in between, rubbing the outside of your lips through the fabric. Its movements were greedy yet controlled, the leather creating a pleasurable pressure on your desperate cunt as the other hand ripped the sides of your underwear. You gasped at the sudden friction of pure leather on your bare skin, gasping as the figure motioned their fingers in circles around your clit, occasionally slipping into your folds.

There was no way you didn’t look like a complete slut. 

Ghostface’s movements began to increase, yet you noticed that the grip it had on its knife remained. It only made you hotter.

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “I-I’m gonna —”

Tsk.Tsk. So soon. What was the point in coming here if it wasn’t to take what was wanted?

The figure withdrew their hands, and your own instinctively went between your legs, hoping to finish yourself off with your fingers - an attempt that utterly failed as the knife blocked your path, the blade once again coming into dangerously close contact with your fingertips. In a swift motion and brutal display of strength, Ghostface grabbed your thighs and pulled your torso towards the edge of your bed, legs dangling off the edge to either side of the figure. Large hands spread your legs apart before releasing its cock, wasting no time in lining it up with your entrance. One hand remained firm on your hips whilst the other snaked up your body, making sure to grope your breasts before planting its grip around your neck.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” 

That was all you heard before you were thrust into, pussy stretched apart as the figure drew its hips in and out of you. Your bed creaked as your mouth remained agape, wanting to make a noise also but finding it to be utterly impossible to do so as the masked figure squeezed at your throat, hips slapping against your own. Its robes flapped around with every movement, tickling your bare skin as the threads of the fabric danced along your thighs, the gentle indirect activity a contrast to the bruising grip on your hips as the killer focused on pounding you.

No inch of you was left unexplored, reaching the point of overstimulation as the leather friction returned to your cunt, rubbing your clit as its cock continued to thrust into you, your juices beginning to leak down its throbbing vein. Ghostface thrusted deeper into you, large hands squeezing tighter at your neck to the point you may have passed out completely if it weren’t for the fact that you’d decided to lock your legs around its waist, drawing him deeper.

You wanted a killer’s hot cum; each and every drop. How funny would it be if you got knocked up? Not only because the father was an enigmatic, psychopathic murderer, but because you didn’t know who it was. It could’ve been anyone; perhaps the blonde or brunette you’d seen by the fountain, or the Tarantino fan in your friends’ film class, or the local music video director…Even an Econ student.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached orgasm, a Pandora’s Box of possibilities swirling around your head. The sensation was unimaginable, and you momentarily saw white as you came, juice gushing all over the masked figure’s cock as you stared around your room in a daze, smiling at all the horror-related posters on the wall. 

Fiction had become reality.

[hunkpossession0]

**Riding a New Life: A Ghost's Journey**

I had been a wandering spirit for what felt like an eternity. Ever since the accident that severed my connection to the living world, I had been drifting through the ether, invisible and forgotten. That is, until today.

I found myself in a dimly lit parking garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber filling the air. The growl of an engine echoed off the walls, and that’s when I saw him—a young biker, effortlessly cool in his black and red leather suit, leaning casually against his sleek Honda. He was everything I had once admired from afar, back when I was alive.

I watched him for a moment, a pang of envy and longing coursing through my spectral form. Then, almost instinctively, I felt myself drawn toward him. There was a sudden pull, a rush of energy, and before I knew it, I was inside his body.

The moment I slipped into his form, it was as if the world exploded in sensation. The first thing I noticed was the heat—the intoxicating warmth of his skin, the snug embrace of the leather suit wrapping around me. It was a second skin, tight and form-fitting, accentuating every contour and muscle. The leather was smooth and supple, a mix of security and allure that was almost overwhelming.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the resistance of the gloves, the reassuring grip they provided. I couldn't help but admire the strength in these hands, the power in this body. My heart raced, not just from the thrill of possession, but from the sheer intensity of feeling alive again. The suit clung to me, a perfect fit, and I relished the way it made me look—strong, confident, and undeniably hot.

Every step I took in the leather suit was a new discovery. The way it accentuated my broad shoulders, the way it hugged my biceps and triceps, making every muscle pop with definition. I could feel the smooth caress of the leather against my skin, the way it moved with me, an extension of my newfound strength.

After an exhilarating ride through the city, I decided to explore more of what this new life had to offer. I had noticed a gym bag in the trunk of his bike, and an idea struck me. I headed to the local gym, eager to test the limits of this new body.

Entering the gym, I felt a wave of excitement. The scent of sweat and metal filled the air, and the rhythmic clanking of weights created a motivating soundtrack. I walked confidently to the locker room, changing into a tank top and workout pants that showed off my muscular physique. The reflection in the mirror was almost surreal—I was now this fit, handsome biker with a body that drew admiration and respect.

I started with some light stretches, feeling every muscle respond with a fluidity and power I had never experienced before. Moving to the weight section, I picked up a dumbbell, the cold metal heavy in my hand. I began a series of bicep curls, watching in awe as the muscles in my arms bulged and flexed.

The intensity of the workout was intoxicating. I pushed myself harder, feeling the burn in my muscles, the rush of endorphins coursing through my veins. I moved from one machine to another, challenging myself with each set, reveling in the strength and endurance of this body.

Between sets, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror. The way the tank top clung to my chest and shoulders, the way my arms looked pumped and powerful—it was a heady mix of vanity and pride. I couldn't help but snap a quick selfie, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated strength.

As the workout continued, I felt a growing sense of accomplishment. This body was capable of so much, and I was determined to explore its limits. The sweat poured down my skin, a testament to the hard work and effort I was putting in. And with each rep, each lift, I could feel myself growing more confident, more comfortable in this new skin.

But something was missing. My spectral journey had been long and lonely, and I longed to share this new life with someone who understood. That’s when I remembered my closest ghost friend, another lost soul who had wandered with me through the void. He deserved this chance too.

Later that evening, I returned to the parking garage, where I found another biker—a friend of the man whose body I had claimed. He was tall and lean, with a rugged handsomeness that made my decision easy. I called out to my ghost friend, guiding him to this new vessel.

With a rush of energy, my friend entered the biker’s body. The transformation was immediate. He blinked, adjusting to the new sensations, then looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. We were no longer lost souls. We were alive, and we had each other.

Together, we returned to the gym. It was a surreal experience, seeing my friend in his new form, watching him flex and admire his new physique. We took a moment to capture it—a selfie of the two of us, side by side, strong and proud. The bond we shared as ghosts had transformed into something deeper, something more intimate.

In the gym mirror, we stood close, our bodies radiating strength and confidence. My friend, now in his own muscular form, flexed his bicep while I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Our tank tops clung to us, revealing every sculpted muscle, every defined line. The pride in our eyes was unmistakable. Here we were, two souls reborn, finding a new life and love in the most unexpected way.

As the days passed, we explored our new lives together. We rode our bikes through the city, feeling the wind on our faces, the thrill of speed and freedom. We worked out side by side, pushing each other to new heights, celebrating every achievement.

Our connection grew stronger, evolving into a romantic bond that felt natural and right. We were a couple now, navigating this new world together. The love we had for each other, forged in the ethereal realm, blossomed in our new, physical forms.

And as we stood together, gazing at our reflections, we knew that this was just the beginning. We had found a new home, a new life, and most importantly, we had found each other. The road ahead was ours to conquer, and we were ready to face it together.

The leather suit, which had started it all, became a symbol of our transformation. Every time I slipped into it, I felt a rush of excitement and power. The way it hugged my body, the way it made me look and feel—it was exhilarating. And as we rode together, side by side, I knew that we were more than just bikers. We were partners, lovers, and together, we were unstoppable.

[carionto]

Humans are Loud

Most cultural exchange is done formally through official channels.

No matter how advanced a civilization you are, when meeting a whole new species, they are fundamentally alien to you in ways that need to be handled carefully and introduced to gradually, or you risk creating a bad first impression, or worse - incite conflict over something that is trivial to one side, but a grave taboo to the other.

However, once you have done preliminary work and both sides have emissaries and ambassadors stationed with each other, it becomes easier and more appropriate to learn about one another through unofficial means. Without curation.

And the most effective method, though legally dubious, is to disguise yourself as one of them and go to some places of public gathering.

Kol Rathar, from the bipedal Jorval race, wanted to experience what a day in the life of a regular Human was. So they picked a random population center on the Earth, engaged their personal disguise kit, tucked in some documents that explain who they are and the legality of their actions should they be discovered, and landed in the city of Neljaes-Helsinki.

It's the dead of winter, a bone chilling -1 degrees Celsius, Kol Rathar immediately turns up their life support to max and heads for the nearest public space. They enter what's called a "bar", take a seat, and order a beer. So as to not arouse suspicion, they "drink" the poison like a Human would, but there is a filter between the mouth on the hardlight holographic disguise and Kol Rathar's that detoxifies the alcohol and turns it into potable water. It still reeks and is hard to swallow, but it won't kill them.

They engage in general banter with some other patrons - Humans tend to dislike quiet in public spaces and often find it odd or unnerving. Universal topics like the weather, traffic, Mondays (most civilizations have an equivalent), and how everything is more expensive again (also a common occurrence across the Galaxy).

Then one of the patrons shouts to "Turn it up!" and the bartender raises the volume of the broadcast receiver to where Kol Rathar almost jumped from the shock, but thankfully the noise suppression kicked in just in time. it displayed a competitive engagement between two teams of Humans in heavily padded suits and helmets, wielding curved sticks and trying to push a small black object into the opposing net.

It did not take long for an act of violence to happen. One participant slammed their gloved fists into another, they retaliated, then a third assaulted the first, another three came out of nowhere and in seconds it was an incoherent pile of bodies slamming into each other, helmets flying off, the safety barriers were constantly vibrating, and it took a whole minute before the referees could dismantle the armageddon.

Kol Rathar thought this was the end of the game, something had gone horribly wrong, but before they could think further, they noticed everyone else in the bar was acting normal, most were looking at the altercation, but their behavior seemed... normal. Like this act of violence was common, expected even. Kol Rathar decided to maintain their cover and continue observing. They still couldn't believe that the competition was resuming after that.

Several minutes passed without another incident, the players of this "hockey" game were all very agile and adept at manipulating the small puck with their hockey sticks. WHILE SKATING ON ICE WITH THIN PIECES OF METAL ON THEIR FEET!

Kol Rathar had not even registered that fact earlier due to the "excitement" and was now awed by the sheer level of mastery and multitasking these players displayed.

Then one team finally scored a goal and Kol Rathar lost consciousness.

When they came to, they were in a hospital bed of the local Coalition embassy building being treated for shock and residual toxin exposure. The dense Human atmosphere saturated with bar patron activities will eventually overwhelm most low to medium threshold filtration systems that disguise kits come standard with.

The medic explained that there are very valid reasons for the strict requirements of Aliens visiting Human environments, and it's not a result of bureaucratic meddling over millennia as is with some other Coalition members. Nobody wants to read five hundred pages of anything, they get that, but Kol Rathar was lucky the Humans at the bar had mostly only recently arrived for the game and were not as intoxicated as they became after they were taken by the ER.

Kol Rathar's experience has been added to the guide for visiting Humans, which has recently been renamed to:

"Don't, but if you have to READ EVERYTHING HERE. There's an embedded audio book too. We know it's thirty hours long, but you will DIE if you don't listen to us!"

[hd-junglebook]

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

a:n Here is part 2, the only thing I could think of while writing this was 'The Gold' by Phoebe Bridgers. I think it really speaks for how y/n sees the situation and her life at the moment.

Masterlist Link

Summary: He's everything she wants. He's everything she wished she had. All she wanted was him. The hot and cold game has finally reached its limit.

Word Count - 5046

The sleek, black limo glided up the long, winding driveway, its polished exterior gleaming under the warm sunlight. As it approached the magnificent mansion, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the opulent surroundings.

The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out before her, a lush carpet of vibrant green grass that looked almost too perfect to be real.

In the center of the sprawling grounds, a grand fountain stood tall, its crystal-clear water cascading down the intricately carved stone tiers, creating a soothing symphony of gentle splashes.

As the limo came to a stop near the impressive front steps, a group of well-dressed helpers emerged from the mansion's large, ornate doors. They stood at attention, their crisp uniforms and shoes polished.

Just then, the front doors swung open, and Y/N's grandmother stepped out, a vision of elegance and grace. She was dressed in an all-white ensemble, the flowing fabric of her dress billowing gently in the breeze.

Her delicate hands were adorned with pristine white gloves, and a strand of exquisite pearls rested against her neck, catching the light and adding to her air of sophistication.

The driver swiftly exited the limo and rushed to Y/N's side, opening the door with a practiced flourish. He offered his hand, assisting Y/N and her mother out of the vehicle with the utmost care and reverence.

As they walked closer to the steps, Y/N's grandmother's face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. "Oh, darling, how I've longed to see you," she exclaimed, her voice filled with affection. "Come here, little dove."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion as she stepped into her grandmother's embrace. The older woman's arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a comforting warmth that seemed to chase away all the stress and disappointment she had been carrying. It had been so long since anyone in her family had shown her such pure, unconditional love and acceptance.

Y/N breathed in the sweet, familiar scent of her grandmother's perfume, a delicate blend of chamomile and sugar.

The softness of her grandmother's gloves against her skin was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal interactions she was used to with her parents.

Around them, the grandeur of the mansion seemed to fade into the background, the lavish furnishings and priceless works of art becoming mere footnotes in the presence of Y/N and her grandmother.

Once they separated Y/N's grandmother cupped her face with her gloved hands, her eyes shining with pride and adoration. "Let me look at you, my dear," she said softly, taking in every detail of Y/N's appearance. "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman."

…

The posse entered the sun room, Y/N was struck by the sheer elegance of the space. The room was flooded with natural light, the sun's rays filtering through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the meticulously landscaped gardens beyond.

In the center of the room, a grand table was set with the finest china and silverware, each place setting arranged with precision and care. The aroma of freshly prepared delicacies filled the air, making Y/N's mouth water in anticipation.

As they took their seats, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. However, after a while, Cherise turned to Y/N with a knowing smile and asked her to accompany her for a walk in the garden.

Arm in arm, the two women strolled through the lush, meticulously maintained grounds. The garden was a true work of art, with winding paths that led through a maze of fragrant rose bushes, towering topiaries, and bubbling fountains.

Cherise broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "Tell me, dear, when will you settle down?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "It hurts me to see you alone."

Y/N shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not alone, grandmother," she replied, her voice soft but filled with contentment. "I am with someone. Nothing serious, but things are going smoothly now. He makes me happy."

The steady click of their heels against the pavement punctuated their words. Cherise listened intently, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Then give me a grandbaby already, if you're so happy," she teased, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the garden. Y/N couldn't help but join in, their laughter mingling with the chirping of the birds and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Y/N smiled softly as her grandmother continued, her words filled with wisdom and understanding. "I'm only joking, little dove. I would like to meet him, maybe when things get 'serious,' I guess. I want you to feel love like I have with your grandfather. You deserve that, not some beneficial marriage like your mother and father. I don't know where I went wrong with her."

Y/N nodded along, finding no reason to disagree with her grandmother's sentiment. She knew that her parents' relationship was one of convenience and status, lacking the warmth and genuine connection she craved. "I think you'd like him," she said, a hint of hope in her voice.

As they neared the house, Dedra rushed down the stairs, her face tight with impatience. "Let's go, we have to get back to work," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

…

Y/N stepped into her bedroom, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. She slipped out of her clothes and into a comfortable robe, the soft fabric caressing her skin. Settling down at her vanity, she began removing her makeup, the process of wiping away the day's mask a soothing ritual.

As she reached for her phone, she noticed a message from Quinn. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the conversation, eager to connect with him after the emotionally draining day.

Y/N: I wish you were here with me. Today was intense.

Quinn: I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

Y/N: It's just family stuff. They have all these expectations, and I feel like I'm constantly disappointing them.

They texted back and forth, Y/N continued getting ready, applying her makeup with practiced precision. Once she finished her base, she stood up and slipped into the red dress she had chosen for their date. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her figure in all the right places.

She admired her reflection in the mirror, a small smile playing on her lips as she imagined Quinn's reaction. Just then, her phone buzzed with another message.

Quinn: I'm outside.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the front door. She stepped outside, the cool evening air kissing her skin as she walked towards Quinn's car.

He had his windows rolled down, a smile on his face as he watched her approach. His eyes roamed over her body appreciatively, taking in the sight of her in the stunning red dress.

"Looking good," he said, his voice smooth and filled with admiration.

Y/N felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty swirling within her. “Thanks hottie.” she said as she slid into the passenger seat. She knew that her feelings for Quinn were growing stronger each day, but the fear of him not wanting her scared beyond comprehension.

Quinn pulled out of Y/N's driveway, he glanced over at her, his gaze lingering for a few seconds. The curiosity in his eyes was evident. "So where is this restaurant you were telling me about or is it some kind of surprise?" she asked, leaning over the middle console.

He smiled mysteriously, enjoying the playful anticipation that hung in the air between them. "You'll just have to wait and see," he teased. Quinn chuckled at her betrayed expression, shaking his head in amusement as he focused on the road ahead.

conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and the occasional playful jab. Even though they talked about nothing of great importance, Y/N found herself thoroughly enjoying the simple pleasure of Quinn's company.

city lights flashed by the windows, painting the interior of the car with a kaleidoscope of colors. Y/N leaned back in her seat, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

As they continued driving, y/n’s curiosity got the better of her once more. "Come on, Y/N, give me a hint," she pleaded, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm dying to know where you're taking me."

Quinn laughed, the sound filled with genuine joy. "Patience, dear," he chided gently, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

…

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as Quinn's strong hands grasped her waist, his touch both thrilling and comforting. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and saw a glimmer of affection and excitement reflected back at her.

"Lead the way," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips as she allowed him to guide her towards the restaurant.

As they approached the entrance, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the establishment. The facade was a masterpiece of modern architecture. The name of the restaurant was emblazoned above the doors in elegant, golden script.

Quinn's arm remained securely around her waist as they stepped through the doors. The interior of the restaurant was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with plush carpets, glittering chandeliers, and rich, velvet draperies.

The hostess led them to their table, she glanced at Quinn, taking in the way his suit hugged his athletic frame and the confident, easy smile that played on his lips. When they were seated, Quinn reached across the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers. She squeezed his hand in return.

They perused the menu, discussing the various options and sharing bites of each other's dishes. Quinn enthusiastically shared his plans for preparing his hockey team for the upcoming season. He spoke about new training regimens, team-building exercises, and strategies he hoped to implement.

Y/N listened intently, her eyes focused on Quinn as he passionately described his goals and aspirations.

However, at one point, Quinn glanced over at Y/N, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He wondered if she was truly interested in the intricacies of his hockey career or if he was boring her with the details. Y/N, sensing his uncertainty, quickly broke into a smile and laughed, hoping to ease his worries.

"Everything about you interests me, Quinn," she said earnestly, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "I could never get bored of you. Being around you makes me happy, ya know?"

The sincerity in her voice was evident, but Quinn's reaction was not what Y/N had expected. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hand stiffening under her touch. An awkward silence fell between them, the air thick with tension.

Quinn cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the restaurant as if searching for an escape. "Y/N," he began, his voice strained, "I... I think we need to talk."

Y/N felt her heart sink, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She withdrew her hand from his, folding her arms across her chest as if to protect herself from the words she knew were coming.

"I care about you, Y/N. I really do," Quinn continued, his gaze finally settling on her face. "But I need you to understand that I'm not looking for anything too serious right now. I thought we were on the same page about that."

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She knew Quinn had been clear about his intentions from the start, but somewhere along the way, she had allowed herself to hope for more.

"I know," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to pressure you."

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not your fault, Y/N. I should have been more clear. I just... I don't want to hurt you."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a reminder of the fragility of their connection. Y/N forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's okay, Quinn. We can take things slow. I'm just happy to be here with you." Quinn returned her smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The rest of the evening was spent in polite conversation, but the earlier ease and warmth between them had dissipated.

…

The pulsing rhythms of the music filled the crowded nightclub, the bass thumping through the floor and vibrating in Y/N's chest as she carefully navigated her way back to the booth where her friends were waiting. In her hands, she balanced a tray laden with six colorful cocktails, each one adorned with a tiny umbrella and a slice of fruit.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight of her five best friends, all dressed to the nines and ready for a night of fun and laughter. She shimmied into the booth, sliding in next to Raven, her closest confidante.

"Ladies, I present to you six drinks for six beautiful women," Y/N announced, her voice rising above the din of the club. She passed out the cocktails, each one met with a chorus of excited cheers and appreciative nods.

The women wasted no time in downing their drinks, the sweet, fruity flavors masking the potent alcohol within. As they finished, they let out exaggerated gasps and howls of delight, the alcohol already beginning to work its magic and loosen their inhibitions.

Raven leaned in close to Y/N, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, see anyone you like?" she drawled out, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N surveyed the dance floor, her gaze roving over the writhing bodies and the flashing lights. She had to admit, there were plenty of attractive men in the club tonight, their bodies moving in perfect sync with the pulsing beat.

"A few," she admitted, a sly smile playing on her lips. "But no one interesting enough to take home, that's for sure."

Raven giggled at Y/N's response, her laughter infectious and carefree. She scanned the room herself, her eyes suddenly widening as she spotted someone across the way.

"Well, I see one eyeing you up over there," she said, pointing discreetly in the direction of the bar.

Y/N followed Raven's finger, her gaze landing on a devastatingly handsome man with curly black hair and a chiseled jawline. He was leaning against the bar, his back pressed against the polished wood, and his eyes were locked on Y/N, a smoldering intensity in his gaze.

Y/N felt a flush of heat rush through her body as she met his stare, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. She raised her hand in a small wave, a coy smile playing on her lips.

But even as she flirted with the stranger across the room, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that tugged at the back of her mind. She thought of Quinn and the uncertain status of their relationship.

"I don't know, Raven," she said, her voice tinged with hesitation. "I haven't ended things with Quinn yet. It would feel wrong to pursue someone else."

A collective groan sounded from the table, as her friends all chimed in with their opinions.

"Girl, you're single. Do what you want," one said, her voice firm and encouraging.

"Quinn's not here tonight. What he doesn't know won't hurt him," another added, her tone mischievous and daring.

Y/N bit her lip, torn between her desire to let loose and have fun and her loyalty to the man she cared for.

She knew things with Quinn were complicated, that he had been distant and evasive in recent days. But still, the thought of betraying his trust, even in a moment of drunken weakness, made her stomach churn.

As she sat there, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club and the encouraging words of her friends, Y/N knew she had a decision to make. She could play it safe, go home alone and wait for Quinn to come around. Or she could take a chance, let herself get swept up in the moment and see where the night might lead her.

With a deep breath and a final glance at the handsome stranger across the room, Y/N made her choice.

…

The heat of the crowded dance floor was almost unbearable as Y/N swayed to the pulsing beat, her body moving in perfect sync with the mysterious man from the bar. His hands were on her hips, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress and setting her skin ablaze.

The dance floor was a sea of moving bodies, gyrating and swaying to the music as the multicolored lights flashed and swirled overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the sweat-slicked skin of the dancers.

Y/N felt the heat rising from the packed bodies around her, the air thick with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and pheromones. She moved in perfect rhythm with the mysterious man from the bar, their bodies impossibly close as they lost themselves in the primal, sensual flow of the music.

His hands roamed over her curves, his touch both electrifying and possessive as he pulled her flush against his muscular frame. Y/N could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing against her back, his hips grinding against hers in a way that sent shivers of desire racing down her spine.

Clinking glasses and raucous laughter from the nearby bar mixed with the pounding bass, creating a heady cocktail of sensory overload.

Y/N felt dizzy with the rush of it all, her head spinning from the alcohol and the intoxicating presence of the man behind her. As the song reached its crescendo, he leaned in close, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck as he mumbled something in her ear, his words almost lost in the pounding music.

Y/N turned in his hold, pressing her back against his chest and feigning ignorance. "Sorry, the music is really loud. I can't hear you," she shouted over the din, a coy smile playing on her lips.

She felt his chest rumble with laughter, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

"I said, come home with me," he repeated, his voice low and husky, filled with unmistakable desire. Y/N's heart raced at his bold suggestion. She knew she should say no, that leaving with a stranger was a dangerous game. But the alcohol in her system and the electric chemistry between them made it hard to think straight.

She turned to face him, a playful shrug on her shoulders. "I can't leave my friends alone tonight," she said, her voice apologetic. "But how about I give you my number instead?"

The man's face hardened, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. He scoffed, as if offended by her suggestion, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Fine," he said, his tone clipped as he extended his phone towards her. "Put it in."

Y/N took the device, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed in a fake number, purposely transposing the digits. She couldn't risk giving him her real contact information, not when she was still unsure of her feelings for Quinn.

She handed the phone back and fixed him with a stern look. "Now, shut up and dance," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. The man's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger burning in their depths. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and possessive.

"You think you can just tease me like that and walk away?" he growled, his face inches from hers. "I don't take kindly to being led on." Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong.

"Let go of me," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "I don't owe you anything."

Around them, the other dancers continued to move, oblivious to the drama unfolding in their midst. Y/N's friends were nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of writhing bodies and flashing lights.

The man's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. "No one rejects me!”

With a sudden burst of strength, Y/N wrenched her arm free, stumbling backwards and nearly losing her balance. She turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd as she desperately searched for her friends.

Her heart was racing, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

…

Y/N stumbled out of the nightclub, her heart pounding and her head spinning from the encounter. The cool night air hit her skin, providing a momentary relief from the stifling heat of the dance floor.

She leaned against the rough brick wall, her hands shaking as she fumbled with her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Quinn's name.

She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the call button. Things between her and Quinn had been strained lately, and she wasn't sure if he would even answer. But as a wave of nausea washed over her, the severity of the situation hit her, and she knew she needed help.

Y/N pressed the button, holding the phone to her ear as she tried to steady her breathing. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before Quinn's voice finally filled her ear.

"Hello?" he answered, the sound of music and laughter echoing in the background.

"Quinn," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "I... I need you."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Y/N feared he would hang up on her. But then Quinn's voice returned, this time laced with concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Where are you?"

She took a shuddering breath, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm at Taipei," she said, her words coming out in a rush. "I... I was dancing with this guy, and he... he tried to... I don't know, I just... I need you to come get me. Please."

There was another pause, and Y/N could hear the sound of Quinn moving, the background noise fading as he stepped away from wherever he was. "I'm on my way," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "Stay where you are, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Y/N nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

As the call ended, Y/N slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest as the tears finally spilled over. She felt sick to her stomach.

…

"Y/N!"

She looked up, her vision blurry with tears, to see Quinn running towards her, his face etched with worry. He dropped to his knees beside her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest as the emotions she had been holding back finally broke free. She sobbed openly, her body shaking with the force of her tears as Quinn held her close, his hands rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Y/N's voice trembled as she spoke, her words laced with a mixture of sadness and desperation. "What have you been doing? It's been days, Quinn. Days without a single word from you."

Quinn froze, caught off guard by her sudden questioning. He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right response. "I... I've been busy, Y/N. You know how it is."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, I don't know how it is. You don't want to talk to me? Is that what this is?" Her voice cracked, the pain in her heart spilling out into her words. "I don't want to do this with you anymore if you don't want to be with me eventually, Quinn. I can't keep going on like this."

Quinn reached out to her, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, please. Let's not do this now. We'll talk in the morning, okay? When we've both had a chance to clear our mind, and we’re home in bed."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the affection she so desperately craved. "Do you feel anything for me, Quinn? Even just a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Of course I do Y/N..."

"Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just be honest with me then. Am I not good enough? Is that why you've been pulling away?"

Quinn's heart ached at the sight of her pain, but he couldn't find the words to comfort her. He knew that his own doubts and fears had been holding him back, preventing him from fully committing to their relationship.

"It's not that, Y/N. It's just... complicated."

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the cool night air. "Complicated. Right. That's what it always is with you, isn't it?"

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling incredibly small and vulnerable. She looked up at the sky, the stars blurring together through her tears. "I can't keep doing this, Quinn. I can't keep going on dates and sleeping with you, only to be pushed away. It hurts too much."

Quinn's voice wavered as he spoke, his words laced with a deep, aching sadness. "Y/N, please just let me explain at a better time."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears that refused to fall.

"If I could go back to the night we met, I would never have agreed to this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "You make me feel so loved and like you care about me, then you ignore me when I say anything that sounds like I care about you."

The night seemed to grow colder around them, the stars fading into the inky blackness of the sky.

Quinn took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "I don't mean to hurt you. At all," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"What I want is complicated, Y/N. You're so good to me. If I allowed myself to ruin it, I would never forgive myself." Quinn felt his own heart constrict, the depth of her pain hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/N shook her head, a single tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "But don't you see? You're already ruining it. By pushing me away, by refusing to let yourself feel what I know is there."

He wanted so badly to take her in his arms, to promise her that everything would be okay. But he knew that he couldn't make that promise, not when he was still so unsure of his own heart.

Y/N's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to hold the pieces of her shattered heart together. "I don't need you to be perfect, Quinn. I just need you to be honest with me. To stop running away from what we both know is true."

She turned to walk away, Quinn reached out and grabbed her hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Quinn's lips brushed against her forehead.

Quinn inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his own. Before Y/N had a chance to protest, to pull away from his embrace, Quinn gently guided her towards his car.

He opened the passenger side door, his hand resting on the small of her back as he helped her inside. With a tender touch, he reached over and clipped her seatbelt, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for just a moment longer than necessary.

As Quinn slid into the driver's seat, he could feel the weight of Y/N's gaze on him but he couldn't find the words to reassure her, couldn't find the courage to voice the depths of his own feelings.

Instead, he put the car in drive, the engine humming to life as they pulled away from the curb. Y/N turned her head towards the window, her eyes fixed on the expanse of the city that stretched out before them. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, the glittering lights of the skyline blurring together through her watery vision.

The drive was silent, the only sound the steady thrum of the engine and the distant wail of sirens in the night. Quinn's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension as he navigated the familiar streets that led to Y/N's home.

The sight of her own front door, the promise of solitude and comfort, was a balm to her aching heart. Quinn cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening in the confines of the car.

He moved quickly, exiting the driver's side and rounding the front of the car to open Y/N's door. She stumbled slightly as she stepped out, her legs unsteady beneath her. Quinn's hand found the small of her back once more, his touch a gentle guide as they walked together towards her front door.

With a sense of déjà vu, Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the spare key Y/N had given him months ago, he slid the key into the lock, the click of the tumblers echoing loudly in the stillness of the night.

As the door swung open, Y/N stepped inside, the familiar scent of home enveloping her like a warm embrace. She turned to face Quinn, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the love and affection she so desperately craved.

But his expression was unreadable, his own emotions carefully guarded behind a mask of stoic resolve.

…

Message me to be added to the tag list!! feedback is always appreciated. Lmk how you feel.

Tag List <3

@poppysbestie

[nicolenaughty]

Miley Cyrus

[theseimmortalcoils]

Eva Green photographed by Patrick Demarchelier in 2007 for Vanity Fair's November issue.

[sol-insidious]

Bringing my two cents to the (in)famous Luke "Chanel Boots" Skywalker joke because I actually have weird thoughts about Luke and fashion tropes that go beyond haha gay blonde twink like luxury brand.

Thinking about Luke's characterization and fashion as a narrative device. The significance of Luke leaving Tatooine with literally nothing but the clothes on his back and donning Corellian Bloodstripes at the end of A New Hope.

Thinking about Luke's wardrobe gradually transitioning from lighter colors to black throughout Episodes IV-VI.

Thinking about the sheer intentionality of Luke having an all-black wardrobe in Return of The Jedi onwards. Is it to honor his father? To mourn him? To remind himself of who he could be and who he already is? All of the above? Thinking about the deliberate asymmetry of Luke's single black glove. Thinking about the white flap on his chest.

Thinking about Padmé and how she was molded into fashion since birth, the extravagance of her outfits and makeup as an Amidala. Thinking about how Luke seems to mirror her regal anonymity with his cloaked grim reaper fit. Thinking about Luke's disconnected relationship with his late mother and wondering if he ever felt the same level of restrictive empowerment she did when she wore her gowns.

Thinking about the nuances of queer fashion and how it can equally be as empowering and restrictive to the wearer.

Thinking about the white and orange prison uniforms in Andor and the colors of the Rebel Alliance.

Thinking about my old Modernist Literature professor who wrote her thesis on the colors of stockings in D.H. Lawrence's fiction and how women characters chose to wear bright stockings under their long, billowing skirts that no-one else but themselves could see. Thinking about the color pink in Legally Blonde. Thinking about reading dress and fashion as a legitimate pathway to literary analysis. Thinking about the utter significance of Luke's entire outfit. All of his outfits.

Thinking about those damn Chanel Boots.

[writingjourney]

Peppermint Oil & Kisses

You only have to take one closer look to see exactly what the reason for his foul mood is. The makeup around his temples is smudged, as is the paint around the bridge of his nose when he regards you under droopy eyelids. “Headache again?” Or: Secondo had a long day– you're ready to take care of your Papa.

content: 1.6k words, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, showering together, established relationship, domestic fluff, lots of pampering for your papa ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link

A swell of Italian curses, muffled by the heavy oak door. The keys jangle as he misses his target multiple times, the wood groaning painfully as he leans against it before trying again. When the lock finally springs open, Secondo enters your shared quarts with a sigh that seems to carry the combined weight of every burden in the world.

“Hello, my love,” you greet him from the couch, pulling your legs up to make room for him.

He grumbles what seems to be a greeting as he pulls at his robes with impatient, unusually clumsy fingers. When he misses the hook on the coat rack the fabric falls to the floor, emerald green and black pooling at his feet. He heaves another sigh.

“Oh, you’re especially grumpy today, hm?” You only have to take one closer look to see exactly what the reason for his foul mood is. The makeup around his temples is smudged, as is the paint around the bridge of his nose when he regards you under droopy eyelids. “Headache again?”

“Hmph.”

“Oh, heavy is the head that wears the mitre,” you mumble when he sinks down on the sofa beside you, weighty like a rock sinking into the ocean. “Is it very bad?”

“Hmph.”

“That’s because you’re too stubborn to take your meds in time before it gets like this,” you chide, even though your voice is still gentle, wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulders. “You always think you can push through by sheer force of will.”

“Hmph.”

You press a soft kiss to his temple and he leans against you, resting his weary head against your lips. “It’s okay to need a little help, my love.”

“I have you for that, no? You always take such good care of your Papa.”

“Well, not even I can just magically rub away your headache.”

He tuts, squeezing your thigh with his gloved fingers. “That depends on where you’re rubbing, hm?”

You chuckle, cradling his head against you and peppering his skin with more kisses. “I don’t think you’re up for that tonight, darling. But I can rub some of Primo’s peppermint oil on your temples if you would like?”

“Per favore.”

More kisses and he grows heavier by the second. His black eyelids are closed now, long lashes tickling the skin just below as they flutter with every gentle touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep. I will take care of dinner today and you can take a little nap.”

He gives a dissatisfied hum. “Amore, we are making Cacio e Pepe tonight.”

“So? I helped you prepare it many times and it’s not that difficult.”

You can immediately tell that the idea displeases him. His brows pull together even more than in their relaxed state and his lips curl ever so slightly at the edges. This is the closest you will ever get to an actual pout from him and you have to fight off an amused smile.

“You don’t have to worry that I won’t need you anymore,” you whisper. “I will always prefer being your kitchen helper, my love.”

“I’m not wo–” You shut him up with a proper kiss and he practically melts into it. The smudged make up tastes bitter when you lick along his full lips. Secondo sighs, teasing your tongue with his for a moment before he pulls away. “Va bene. But you will join your Papa for his nap.”

“I will join you until you fall asleep.”

He frowns again but you don’t allow him to complain. Instead you stand and pull him up with you towards the bedroom. Darkness wraps around you, blinding you until you turn on the lamp on his bedside table that he uses for his late night reading. Two hefty tomes reside there with his reading glasses folded neatly on top, though you assume he won’t have any need for those tonight.

“Let’s get you showered,” you say instead, noting that he’s already removing his clothes.

You help him with the buttons on his black dress shirt when his fingers, usually so dextrous, start to fumble unsuccessfully. It feels intimate every time, to help him when he is truly in need of you, a man so proud of his independence and autonomy allowing you to see his vulnerable moments. 

Once you reveal his chest, you permit your fingers to feel him. Combing through the dense hair,  you lightly scratch his skin in the way you know he enjoys before you you push the fabric from his shoulders. Placing your lips over his clavicle, you leave a trail of featherlight kisses along the sensitive skin that stretches over the bone.

“Amore,” Secondo whispers. 

“I love you.”

He smiles, tilting your chin up so you can see the softness in his eyes. “As I love you, my dove.”

You steal a tender kiss and finally lead him to the bathroom. Before you send him into the shower you remove the bulk of his face paints with make up wipes, then rub some of the cleansing oil into his skin to loosen the rest from his pores. For once he allows you to pamper him without much fuss, without insisting on giving back or complaining that he can do it himself.

“Join me, amore,” he says when you turn on the water, setting it to a medium temperature. 

You don’t question him, instead your heart swells with love. You’re willing to do whatever he asks of you when he is like this, when you feel so needed and loved. 

While he rinses off the rest of his paints you undress and then join him, the water immediately relieving all of the tension in your body. You begin to lather each other gently, washing off the remnants of your respective days. When you reach his shoulders you begin to massage him with gentle hands, making sure to adjust the pressure to his liking. His body feels stiffer than usual, the tension of a day spent working through his pain only slowly kneaded from his weary muscles. Every so often he moans in relief, closing his eyes when you reach a particularly cramped spot and you make sure to press a kiss to every single one of them.

Back in the bedroom, you put on some comfortable clothes and drag Secondo’s old Iron Maiden shirt over his head that is littered with more holes than you can count. He refuses to get rid of the old piece out of sentimentality as Primo got it for his thirtieth birthday decades ago. Secondo snakes his arms through the designated holes before they wrap around you, pulling you in for a deep kiss that he sinks into with a sigh. His body weighs heavy against yours. You have to use all your strength to stay upright but do your best to provide him with all the comfort he needs. It is rare that he so openly seeks it, that his guard is let down all the way.

You’re grateful that he lets you see it all now – how he can’t sleep through the nights anymore, how he winces and holds his lower back after getting up in the morning, the way he squints without his reading glasses and the frequent headaches after hours of paperwork. It doesn’t come easy to him. He used to try and hide it until you slowly wormed your way beyond his walls with a heating pad and ibuprofen at hand. He is not even close to accepting that he can’t stay young forever but at least he allows himself a few simple comforts by now. The rest will come in time.

“Now sit. I’ll fetch the peppermint oil.”

He squeezes your hip, raising a brow at your commanding tone. You smile cheekily and press a kiss to his jaw, noting that the corners of his mouth have lifted as well. While he sits down on the bed you retrieve the vial of oil from your bedside table. Dabbing some of it onto your fingers you begin to rub it into the skin of his temples, then his forehead. Secondo’s eyes close and he hums with relief at the gentle massage. You continue even after the oil has fully sunk in, revelling in the way his features relax as the pain recedes. He looks better now, but still incredibly tired.

After you thoroughly wash your hands, you join Secondo in bed, finding that he’s already half-asleep. He rouses enough to notice you and reflexively pulls you close, dragging you halfway across the mattress. You shift onto your back with him in your arms, allowing him to rest his head on your chest. As you gently run your fingers over his scalp, he releases a heavy but content sigh that tickles your skin. Quiet settles in the room and you can feel your own tiredness overwhelming you with every calm breath you take.

“We could always eat the Cacio e Pepe tomorrow,” you suggest. “I know you’re not a fan of take out but–”

“A splendid idea, amore,” Secondo grumbles. “We will order the take out.”

You smile as you close your eyes, continuing to stroke his head to help him fall asleep a little faster. In return, his fingers draw a circular pattern over your hip, never straying from your body for more than a second. Soon he starts to snore, his soft and steady exhales lulling you to sleep as well.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

[kaeyx]

Can't stop thinking about Chuuya in leather pants (I want to draw it saur bad). Just the way they hug his legs and ass!!!! And when he's hard the shine of the leather perfectly outlines his thick, pretty cock...

You can't help but drool after him when he wears them (so of course expect him to wear them even more). You beg to sit on the floor between his legs not even undoing the front laces yet, just nuzzling at his growing bulge smearing the material with your drool.

When he finally let's you open them up, the musk is so intense and hot from the leather trapping heat all day. It's a 50/50 if chuuya decided to wear a sheer black thong that cups his cock so beautifully or just went commando- either way avoiding unsightly underwear lines.

And after all that teasing, of course he's going to make you deep throat his cock.

-⚡️

CREAMING MYSELF HOLY SHITTTTT (under a cut because it got waaaaay too long oops)

Ugh he's so GORGEOUS, the pants hug his toned ass and tiny waist, they highlight and elongate his legs, they show everything. Especially if he's wearing a little cropped jacket on top so his silhouette isn't hidden at any angle!! Chuuya knows he looks good and he knows you love looking at him, he can feel your eyes following his figure, watching how his body shifts under the tight leather. He's half hard already, his pretty cock chubbing up and beginning to ache as it's squeezed, the leather is unforgiving. But Chuuya knows it just makes him look better, the clear outline of his thick cock showing through his pants alongside everything else they reveal is driving you insane. He can practically see you drooling.

If you don't ask first, he'll drag you to your knees himself. Chuuya makes sure to sit a lot during the day, leaning back and relaxing, spreading his legs as much as the pants allow and letting out a satisfied groan to catch your attention. By the time you're kneeling between his legs he's lost some of his patience though, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing you into his crotch, rubbing his bulge against your face and growling under his breath when you mouth at it and kiss him through the fabric. He's painfully hard now and sees no reason to drag this out, Chuuya needs to feel you properly before he finishes in his pants.

You're as desperate as always of course, doubly so when he peels the fabric away and you see he's not wearing anything (or better yet the thong, soaked through with sweat and precum). The little whine that escapes your throat makes him laugh quietly and ask if you like what you see, but you cut him off by diving straight in and nestling close to his cock, rubbing your cheek against the heated skin of his thigh and kissing the edge of his bush, savouring the smell and salty taste of sweat. Chuuya curses, beginning to shake as you keep pressing closer and kissing his thighs, his stomach, his cock, you even lean down enough to pay attention to his balls before cupping them in your hand. The whole day has been as unbearable for Chuuya as it has been for you, so the moment you plant a gentle kiss on his tip and suck him gently through the lace of his thong he's coming undone, gripping your head tight and throwing his head back with a high, choked off whine. It's a gorgeous sound and of course you want more, you keep touching him through his orgasm as his pretty dick leaks everywhere and his cum begins to drip through the lace of the thong, immediately captured in your willing mouth.

When you shift the fabric just enough to let his cock spring out you whine, it looks so pretty. Flushed all the way to the tip and still painfully hard, straining against Chuuya's tummy and begging for attention, cum still drooling down the side. You can't help but lean in and lick him clean, massaging his balls to get all his cum out, drooling until your whole face is a mess of spit and cum and you're covered in his smell, cockdrunk and moaning shamelessly as Chuuya cums down your throat for the third time, his gloved hand on your head keeping his cock so far down your throat that all you can smell and taste is him. Exactly how you both like it.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: My Fall Wardrobe Essentials

Pima cotton long-sleeve tees (I like the Supima ones from Everlane for every day)

Contour body suits (I like the Express Bodycon Compression line and Spanx bodysuits in vegan leather/silk)

Silk button downs

Structured cotton button-down

Cashmere sweaters (crewneck, turtleneck, polo neck, etc. – Everlane, Nadaam, and Cuyana are great affordable options)

Zippered knitwear (I like options from Pixie Market, Naadam, COS, Ganni, Helmut Lang, Nanushka, and more)

Black high-waisted tailored trousers (bootcut, flared, and straight leg)

Black high-waisted jeans (straight and bootcut for me!)

Elevated stretch pants (I like the Norma Kamali Boot Pant and Spanx Perfect Pant for this)

Cashmere trouser

Cashmere hoodie

Thick, well-structured black sweatshirt

High-waisted straight-leg leather pants

Long-sleeve black sweater dress

Maxi-length black satin slip dress

Leather/quilted/tweed mini skirt

Long knit skirt (love a co-ord top for this, too)

Perfectly-tailored longline, single-breasted black blazer

Tailored hourglass blazer

Leather blazer

Classic leather moto jacket

Cropped patent leather jacket

Lightweight wool/satin duster coat

Black cotton trench/leather trench coat

Black tweed jacket with elevated hardware

Structured black wool coat

Leather puff jacket

Minimalist white sneakers

Black block-heeled, sleek square-toed/pointy-toe boots

Modern black loafers

Croc-embossed black boot

Black moto/lace-up boot or minimalist platform boot

Stiletto heel, pointy toe black boot (one short and one knee high length to dress up any outfit)

Western-inspired boot

Sleek and sexy black pumps

Structured black tote/shoulder bag

Structured crossbody bag

Small shoulder bag

Novelty/fun top handle bag (beaded, croc-embossed, crystal-embellishments, etc.)

Seamless bras/underwear

Control-top black tights (sheer and opaque)

Comfortable white and black ankle/crew socks

A cashmere, silk, or faux fur everyday scarf

Fingerless gloves

Chunky chain necklaces/bracelets

Delicate gold and silver chains (necklaces and bracelets)

Mixed-metal rings

Diamond-encrusted & cocktail rings

Ear cuffs and threader earrings

High-waisted shapewear shorts

Cashmere or silk loungewear/pajamas

A lace teddy

Cozy slippers

[the-faceless-bride]

Pretty piggy in a cage...

Summary➡ Being Asa's newest and precious little butterfly, he feels the need to show his good friend Jesse... Only things quickly backfire as Jesse takes interest in his friend's little piggy...

Tags: @gothmothsiren @frostbitefae @wallywaffle @brwnicons

Warnings: Dark Content, sexual implications, Objectification, infantilization, marking, forced touching, forced kissing, body horror, some violence to reader, kidnapping, name calling, mentions of cannibalism, attempts of escape, Starvation, reader is described as having long hair at least shoulder length

You put yourself in his box. You had nothing left, nothing but the money you had saved, the clothes on your back, and those sweet eyes the strange Masked man seemed to enjoy so much.

You have never seen his face, and you honestly didn't care. All you knew was when he saw you he held your face in such a gentle manner, his gloved hand was gentle and held you softer than anyone ever had. His blacked-out eyes just stared into yours with such an enamored and curious look like you were the only thing in this world he wanted.

So when he picked you up and tried to lower you into the red box you didn't struggle, you tucked yourself into the box curling into yourself as much as you could to fit as comfortably as you could.

He seemed to enjoy that, he patted your head before stroking down to your cheek before slowly closing the box.

And once the box reopened, he held your shoulder moving you around the broken-down building that looked like it used to be a hotel.

The art around the building was... Interesting, the more you looked at it the more the stranger rubbed your shoulder. And once he lead you through a hall full of pounding locked doors, yelling, and people in cages the stranger held you to his chest.

He brought you into a bathroom and sat you on the plush pink stool. He picked up a soft-bristled brush and carefully brushed your hair, you sat there for a long time before he stopped and moved to open a wooden box painted with butterflies and lined with gems, pulling out pink and blue ribbons, sectioning your hair before trying the ribbons, looking at you in the mirror before reaching back into the wooden box and pulling out a gloss; squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker before smearing the glittery pink gloss across your lips.

He admired you for a moment before pulling a knife from a holder on his waist and using it to slice down your clothes, your shirt was first; he pulled the shirt off your shoulders from your front your best exposed to the cold air, you closed your eyes feeling the strangers gloved hands felt below your chest and felt around your ribs before moving to your hips and ripping your pants.

The strange man put you in a soft white dress, it fell to your knees in layers, a silk ribbon in the middle of your chest, soft long puffed sleeves felt smooth along your arms.

You hang your head as he presses what you think is a kiss you the side of your temple, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back and leading you through the building, he had to guide you around to not step in a trap or get glass stuck in your bare foot.

He picked you up, carrying you up the long flights of stairs before opening a heavily bolted metal door that had hanging flowers around the door; some were dead, and others seemed fake.

Upon entering the room, a large bed covered in ruffled sheets and fluffy pillows, a sheer curtain of some kind hung around the tall wooden frames around the bed. A pink fluffy carpet was placed on the oddly clean floor, the vanity mirror had a single crack running through it, and the large dresser doors were open exposing the hanging frilly dresses similar to the one you were currently wearing.

You're his butterfly; the pretty little thing he likes to observe and touches with such soft hands, showed off to the others who could only wish not to be in chains like you, to be able to wander around, to be able to speak without being beaten.

One day he seemed extra touchy with you, he put in extra effort to make you look the way he wanted perfect you didn't know what you had done to deserve the extra treatment but it was better than what anyone else was getting in this depressing hotel.

He braided your hair; intricately placing flowers in it, he put you in a bodysuit made of silk that showed more of your chest, around your waist he tied a wispy skirt that reached the floor; it was slightly sheer and also had flowers embroidered giving it a very whimsical look, finally, he actually put you in shoes; they seemed like warn down ballerina shoes, elegant and gold the flowers were delicate.

After giving you one last look before running a hand down your neck moving in close and pressing his masked nose to your hair taking a long breath.

He placed you back in your room, sitting you down on the fluffy rug and making a 'stay' motion before leaving the room; you didn't know how long he was gone for, but when he came back he wasn't alone...

A man walked in with him, he was tall very tall...strong and wore a sharp black suit, and a chrome skull mask.

The chrome stranger looked to the man who kept you in this room, getting a single nod from your kidnapper and he started moving towards you; you whimpered and slightly moved back, but when the black-masked man hushed you and the chrome stranger reached out to you, his hand ghosting over your braided hair moving to brush a finger under your eyelids and moving to your neck giving a small squeeze before continuing his journey, gloved hand moving down your chest across your stomach to your legs squeezing your inner thigh.

He was inspecting you...

He caught you by surprise when he lifted his finger to your nose and gave it a little flick before teasingly pitching your cheek.

What a pretty little piggy. What a Fine Catch Asa Found; Jesse thought. Looking up at him with those sweet pretty eyes of yours. Almost tempted to think of you as less of a piggy and more of a doe... A sweet fawn. Jesse stopped squeezing your cheek and moved behind you leaning to push his mask against your soft hair. What a sweet thing.

Asa and Jesse both take one of your hands and take you out into a separate area you've never been to before. The room had two comfy-looking chairs, plane walls, and a small fluffy 'rug' just to the right of one of the chairs, the room also had something you found interesting. It had camera monitors, and you really wish you could just look away.

The horrors of what you saw.

You knew to some degree that there were poor souls in this place and that something terrible was happening to them. But you couldn't imagine what was on the screens. Rows and rows of people that... Weren't even people anymore... Monsters. Real-life horror movie monsters. Body's mutilated some with multiple limbs, some blind, some with jaws broken and modified to be long and odd-shaped, some of them seemed to be in a room with other monsters and they were... Eating each other.. God. What is this place? Why? Why was this something that never crossed your mind before.? Was... Was this going to happen to you?... Was this his plan? Will this happen to you when he gets bored of you?!

You slowly sat on the small rug where you were told, your eyes never leaving the monsters on the screen.

The two masked men were signing at each other, communicating about something. You couldn't understand them, but you truly couldn't care.

And you felt an itch. An itch to run. An itch to get away. Not wanting to be the next monster...

You would've been fine... You could've ignored the itch... If it wasn't for that one moment. Where one of the monsters that was cannibalizing the other turned. And look right into the camera.... Right.

At.

You.

And you ran. And you seemed to catch both men off guard. As they had yet to catch you.

That monster... That thing...

The blood fell from its odd crooked mouth. It's red bloodshot eyes staring at you.

And it only got worse.

Along the walls of the hotel, bodies ripped open. Displayed like art. No. No. No. Please. You don't want this. You just wanted to be taken away from the mean world. And now you were stuck in an even crueler one.

Loud footsteps could be heard down the halls, you look and your eyes meet the ones of the masked man. The one who took you... The Master...

You started hyperventilating as you tripped over your own feet. One of your feet getting locked in a trap. You let out a yelp of pain. Almost sounding like a kicked puppy, as you fell to the hard cold ground.

You try and yank your foot out, but that only makes the trap worse. Making you cry out. The skull masked on being the tallest and taking the longest strides gets to you first. Shaking his head and wagging his finger at you in a moving way, before giving you a little tap, bad.

You shink in on yourself. "please. Don't let the monsters get me. Don't let me be one of them..." You whimper into his shoulder. he brushes your hair from your face. And uses his loose hand to unlock the trap.

Asa truly was a lucky man. A lucky man indeed... He wouldn't mind if he... Borrowed you... For a while would he? Of course not. What else are friends for? Right?