#garments against women

[iirulancorrino]

One of the inventors of the sewing machine didn’t patent it because of the way it would restructure labor. Another was almost killed by a mob.

Always when I sew I think of Emma Goldman with her sewing machine, or Emma Goldman during her first night in jail “at least bring me some sewing.” Wikipedia says the sewing machine reduced average garment construction time from 14 hours to 2 hours. Somewhere on a sewing blog someone wrote of making new garments from existing ones: “use every part of the garment” and “each garment holds in it hours of a garment worker’s life.” I sew and the historical of sewing becomes a feeling just as when I used to be a poet, when I used to write poetry, used to write poetry and that thing culture began tendriling out in me, but it is probably more meaningful to sew a dress than to write a poem. I make anywhere from 10 to 15 dollars an hour at any of my three jobs. A garment from Target or Forever 21 costs 10 to 30 dollars. A garment from a thrift store costs somewhere between 4 and 10 dollars. A garment from a garage sale costs 1 to 5 dollars. A garment from a department store costs 30 to 500 dollars. All of these have been made, for the most part, from hours of women and children’s lives. Now I give the hours of my life I don’t sell to my employers to the garments. My costs are low: 2-dollar fabric from Goodwill, patterns bought for 99 cents or less, notions found at estate sales for 1 or 3 dollars. I almost save money like this. The fabric still contains the hours of the lives, those of the farmers and shepherds and chemists and factory workers and truckers and salespeople and the first purchasers, the givers-away, who were probably women who sewed. Sewing is difficult. There is a reason girls were trained in it before they were trained in anything else, years and years spent at practice, and even then they might not have been any good.

Anne Boyer, Garments Against Women

#anne boyer #garments against women #what I'm reading

[dwellordream]

I then created a deep system for the perpetuation and proliferation of denial, and that system had many nodes, and in these nodes there were rubrics for evaluation, and as one node sensed that the system was feeding power to another node, it flared and insisted that I feed power to it. I wrote so many signs saying anne answer your emails but never could do just that. But I had to end this story somewhere. I chose that moment when I fell in love. You see I was a man who enjoyed the grandeur of buildings. You see I was a woman who took notes. Everyone was very kind and wanted to help, but in order to be clear about it, I will tell the story like this: it appears that she refused the ladder, but in truth she refused the rope.

Anne Boyer, “Ma Vie en Bling: A Memoir” in Garments Against Women

#anne boyer #garments against women #word to the wise

[clove-pinks]

'La M. de la Corsets': c. 1832 lithograph showing a dressmaker or tailoress and client. The undergarments depicted include sleeve-plumpers.

1830s Thursday: Big sleeves, and even bigger dreams for women’s rights.

The growing vulnerability of working women in industrial society provoked a forceful response. In 1825 hundreds of them went out on strike against New York City clothing houses. In 1831 these same women organized themselves into a mass-membership United Tailoresses’ Society. At a time when journeymen were still devoting their political efforts to a defense of artisanal prerogatives in the master’s shop, these “tailoresses” (the appellation itself testified to an advanced degree of industrial consciousness, excluding as it did the more traditional dressmaking of the “sempstress”) already understood that in a capitalist economy no aspect of the work relationship remained non-negotiable. [...]

No one can help us but ourselves, Sarah Monroe, a leader of the United Tailoresses’ Society, declared. Tailoresses should consequently organize a trade union with a constitution, a plan of action, and a strike fund. Only then could we “come before the public in defense of our rights.” The Wollstonecraftian rhetoric was conscious. Lavinia Wright, the society’s secretary, argued that the tailoresses’ low wages and hard-pressed circumstances were a direct result of the way power was organized throughout society to ensure women’s subordination in all social relations.

— Michael Zakim, Ready-Made Democracy: A History of Men's Dress in the American Republic, 1760-1860

I was disappointed in my search for pictures of Sarah Munroe, Lavinia Wright, or really anything to do with the United Tailoresses’ Society. One online article outright stated, “We know very little about this speaker, Sarah Monroe, other than that she was a garment worker and president of the newly formed United Tailoress Society -- the first women-only union in the United States.” 

I am in awe of this working-class woman, Sarah Monroe, who is quoted by Michael Zakim as saying in 1831:

It needs no small share of courage for us, who have been used to impositions and oppression from our youth up to the present day, to come before the public in defense of our rights; but, my friends, if it is unfashionable for the men to bear oppression in silence, why should it not also become unfashionable with the women?

'The Tailor's Shop': 1838 lithograph by Carl Kunz and Johann Geiger

#1830s #fashion history #labor history #labour history #us history #sarah monroe #Eighteen-Thirties Thursday #united tailoresses' society #michael zakim #women's history #also i have been sleeping on michael zakim's book it's really good #there were many strikes by female garment workers in the time period #amazingly forward-thinking they were trying to get sick pay and retirement benefits #they also campaigned against prison labour #tailors #dress history #inequality #industrial relations #19th century

[polyanthea]

I detached things: the charms from bracelets, the bows from dresses. This was a time—the early 60s, an outpost, really, of the 50s—when little girls’ dresses had lots of decorations: badly stitched appliqué, or little plastic berries, lace flowers, satin bows. I liked to remove them and would often then reattach them—on a sleeve or a mitten. I liked to recontextualize even then.

-Lorrie Moore, “On Writing”

#lorrie moore #writing #bricolage #citation #textual construction #deconstruction #clothes #women against garments #applique #ornament #cut and paste

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ threesome with gojo and geto𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 20: porn star fucking!!!

✿ geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

✿ warnings: oral (fem & male receiving, fingering, ass play, basically couch porn casting

"So you want to be a pornstar," Geto states, sitting in his chair in front of you. You feel your body sweating all over, and you try not to wrinkle your dress more than it already is by holding the edges with your fist. Geto watches your every move and every expression on your face. You decided to try signing up for his porn agency when you lost your job, and porn is always a good way to get money. However, the first mistake you made was wearing a short flower dress to your interview, making Geto smirk as soon as he saw you in the door.

"Tell me about your sex life, y/n," he tells you, and your cheeks turn red. Of course, he would ask a question like this for the type of job you're trying to get.

"Um, I don't have… coitus that often," you say, looking down at your lap. Geto's eyebrows rise at the word coitus, you're certainly inexperienced, but he sees something for you. You're not too young to be naive about doing something like this, but he suspects you're not fit for a job like this.

"And your favorite position?" he asks, making you stutter. The door swings open, and you feel relieved that it stopped you from answering. Your face falls fast when you see the person in the door. You've seen him in the porn videos Geto makes, more specifically his dick. He flashes you a wide smile, his blue eyes blinking at you.

"Are you new here, love?" his question catches you off guard, making both men chuckle.

"Yeah, she's new," Geto smirks at Gojo, making him whistle. Satoru is used to a different type of women in this industry. He has seen loads of slutty girl ready to spread their legs, but you seem pretty innocent.

"Let me introduce you two," Geto says, standing up from his desk and walking in front of you.

"This is Satoru, Satoru this is y/n. We will be interviewing her today."

The mysterious white haired guy eyes you from head to toe, making you blush. You know exactly who he is, you've seen those porn videos, and you've seen that dick.

"Could you undress for us?" Geto asks as he reaches behind him to grab his camera. Gojo's eyes are still on you, and he takes in every inch of your body as you take off every garment. The last piece of clothing falls on the floor, and you stand naked in front of them.

"Is everything alright?" you ask them, your voice shaking. Suguru reaches his hand out, grabbing your boob to rub your nipple.

"Yeah, everything's fine. you are just so tiny." Geto's words should hurt you, but you feel so turned on right now, you don't care.

"Let's start with the interview," Satoru says, rubbing your shoulder, "Kiss me."

You blush, but you kiss him on the mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth right away, his hand creeping to grab your ass.

Geto focuses on the two of you while he massages your other cheek.

"Look at that tiny cunnie." geto coos at you, swiping his hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit, his thumb circling your clit. It's a simple touch, but it makes you moan out loud, which makes the men shoot a lot between each other.

"You're so responsive, that's good," Gojo says, rubbing from your arms down to your butt. He carefully examines every part of your body.

"Can you lie on the couch?" he asks, guiding you to the leather couch in the corner. You sit down on it, looking around the room. Gojo sits down next to you, throwing his hand around your shoulders and rubbing them. Geto stands in front of the both of you, the camera still on.

"Can you open your legs for us?" the question is so dirty, but Gojo's expression is welcoming. You shuffle so that your back is against the back of the couch, opening your legs.

"Oh fuck yes." Geto groans, getting on his knee to get a better look at your opening.

"Did you plan on eating her out?" Gojo asks Suguru, but he shakes his head. A normal interview consists of fucking and sucking cock, you've never seen someone get eaten out. Gojo smirks, "Well, I have to taste her."

Gojo's tongue dives right into your folds. He teases your clit with his fingers, tongue-swiping your juices. You hear Suguru sigh, "Satoru, this wasn't scheduled." But he doesn't stop him from pleasuring you. He gets next to you, pulling his pants down his legs. Your face bumps right into his hard-on, and he rubs it on your face.

"Open mouth." Geto says, sliding his cock right into your warm mouth. He lets you pleasure him at your pace, but it's hard with Gojo eating you out like a master.

"How am I supposed to know if she's good?" Geto whines, thrusting into your mouth. Your throat closes around his cock, and you choke due to his length. Meanwhile, Gojo pushes one of his fingers inside you, the other teasing your rim. You never had someone play with both of your holes at the same time, and it sure is overwhelming. With each swipe of Gojo's tongue and thrust of Geto's cock, you feel yourself nearing your orgasm.

"Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" Gojo smirks when your hips stutter to meet his tongue. Geto is close to releasing too, even though your technique isn't the best, he adores how beautiful you look with his cock in your mouth. A wave of pleasure hits you, and you cum, hips rising and falling because of the stimulation. Geto follows shortly after, painting your face with his cum. Gojo smiles at the scene before him, scooping the cum on his finger to put it inside his mouth.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Geto says, looking sad, "We can't hire someone like you."

From the corner of your eye, you can see Gojo's eyes go wide with disbelief.

"I'm not hiring you, but come to our apartment tomorrow afternoon. We'll see what we can do with you in private."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @armahnsie @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 (18+)

▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 (18+) ▻ 𝙱𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 (18+)

Summary: 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜?

Word Count: 𝟸.𝟼𝚔

Warnings: 𝙸 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚖; 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚕 >.<

𝙵/𝙼 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚌𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜, 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚟 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎)

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!

You had only been there for a damn week.

A week.

Yet you had somehow flourished emotions within the Radio Demon that he had never even slightly experienced before.

The worst part?

You were what the younger generation called a ‘Bimbo Bitch’.

It didn’t make sense to Alastor as to why you out of everyone alive - and dead - made him feel like a pathetic idiot with a crush. Throughout his life on earth he had hundreds of women at his beck and call, fawning over him due to his celebrity status as one of America's biggest southern radio hosts in the late 1920s. Even in death, dozens upon dozens of women had expressed interest in him, even some of the most elegant of sinners had pursued him, yet he always lacked the interest in the act of courting. Still, he knew there would be a day when he would find the woman of his dreams.

So when he realised that the woman of his dreams was you, he felt disoriented, questioning everything he had come to know. The most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on; the woman who made him desire things he had never yearned for before, was you; a woman who lacked vocal sophistication and wore tight, revealing clothes that could rival half the garments the spider-like porn actor wore.

But despite how pissed off he wanted to be about it, how much he wanted to hate you for bringing these emotions out of him, he just couldn’t force himself to feel any disdain for you. Especially when you’d call for him in that whiny tone that sent pleasant shivers down his spine, the same one that made him want to thrust your face into a mattress as he bred you.

He remembered when you first came into the hotel. He genuinely thought you arrived in your underwear, only for him to find out what crop tops and booty shorts were.

He was appalled to say the least.

But it didn't stop him from appreciating your figure whenever you graced him with your presence.

And yet again he found you, wearing a skimpy little outfit of a crop top and one of those silly little skirts of yours, all whilst sitting sideways on his chair in the lobby of the hotel. Your knees pressed up against your breasts; squishing them so hard that the fat of your chest was begging to pop out of the flimsy revealing top as you reached towards your pointed feet with a small brush.

It was difficult for Alastor to repress the groan that begged to leave his throat as his eyes peeked a glance at your underwear; red. Red and skimpy. He could feel himself throb just by looking at you. “Good evening my darling!” He decided to appear from the shadows behind his chair you were situated on before leaning over it to admire you inspect what you were doing. “What are you doing, my dear?” He asked you with a delighted tone that he found himself reserving purely for you.

He watched you pause as you heard his voice, redirecting your attention on him as you rested your legs back onto the arm chair, giving your chest some air to breathe. “Hey Al!” You beamed with a sharp toothed grin that made Alastors undead heart skip a beat. “I’m painting my nails, you want me to do your claws? I have like ten different colours! OH! We should so paint yours pink! You’d look so good!” 

He chuckled at the idea of him with pink nails; preposterous. He was the Radio Demon, an entity that devoured anyone who crossed him, a being who broadcasted the screams of thousands of souls to millions of listeners all because he enjoyed it; and here was you; a pretty little dame asking him if you could paint his claws… Pink.

“Apologies my darling but that is an activity I prefer not to partake in.” His toothed smile twitched as your face slowly contorted into one of disappointment.

It definitely didn't make him feel guilty.

“C’mon Al! If you really don’t want pink I guess I could do them black or white to match your theme? Pretty please?” You pouted, allowing your lips to puff out as your eyes looked skyward to meet his gaze. Alastor’s smile twitched as he felt a heat rise within his lower abdomen from looking at your perfect form. You must be aware on some level what you were doing to him. Right?

Despite the Radio Demon hating the idea of having his claws painted, the idea of disappointing you; the act of refusing you to touch him as you caressed his hands and claws was something he found he hated more. 

So he gave in.

“I will permit you to paint my claws my darling, but you are to do it in red and you will not relay this event to anyone else. Do you understand?” His face closed in on yours to the point where you couldn’t see anything but him.

Your eyes glanced down to his hands that rested atop his cane, your eyebrows contorting into confusion. “But… Your claws are already red?”

Alastor’s smile twitched ever so slightly, to the point where you didn’t even notice. 

He had hoped you wouldn’t of noticed.

“Then I will permit you to paint them black, ma chérie.” Immediately you stood up, revealing your smaller structure compared to the seven foot frame the Radio Demon possessed. You grabbed his hands - much to his delight - and he allowed you to drag him over to the opposite side of the chair, guiding him to sit on it. He obliged, allowing you to dictate every move; something he had never permitted anyone else in his entire existence.

Momentarily he closed his red eyes, basking in the warmth your hands emitted into his cold skin, only for him to startle them open when you sat on his lap. His eyes met yours as you smiled smugly, waving the black nail polish in his face.

It wasn’t what he was expecting, to have your soft body flush against his; your clothed core meeting his own, making him melt from the contact. But he was assured that he could live the rest of his existence happy and content if it meant having you slotted in his lap forever.

“Okay, gimme your hand.” You beamed as you offered your delicate palm to him, waiting for him to concede his hand to you. Hesitantly, he obliged, snaking his fingers against yours, allowing you to grip your soft hand around one of his fingers as you began painting his sharp tipped claws.

As you recoated your brush before tending back to his claws, Alastor felt your core brush against his, making him bite back a moan, keening in a way that had him wishing you’d do it again. Slowly, he outstretched his unoccupied hand towards the curve of your waist as he felt himself harden underneath you.

Although usually a collected and composed man, Alastor was struggling. You had barely begun working on his second claw before his hand finally made contact with your bare waist, making you jump ever so slightly at the contact, accidentally grinding yourself against his now hard member.

Alastor groaned as you stilled against him. He refused to look at you, he wasn’t ready to see what type of expression adorned your face. Would you be repulsed? Or would you be as aroused as him? “Alastor..?” He heard you mumble; your voice sounding slightly erotic. Would you reciprocate his feelings? Slowly, he rested his head in the comfort of your chest, sighing as he could feel the fast beating of your heart before tightening his grip on you. He couldn’t control himself; not when you fit so perfectly in his lap, not when you were making him feel so stimulated just by moving against his constrained cock. “Fuck, Alastor-” You moaned as he forced you to grind against him as he placed his other hand against the fat of your hips; his claws still wet from the polish.

“Such a naughty girl.” He groaned as he leaned back away from your chest, viewing the debauched expression that etched your face, biting your bottom lip as your eyes half lidded. “I was hoping to court you first, but you’re making this so hard.” He mumbled, slamming you further into his clothed throbbing cock, causing the texture of his trousers to rub against your clit.

Suddenly, he gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips connected with yours. He could hear you panting as you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore the tastes your mouth had to offer him. He felt like he could attain heaven as you showed your want of him. The closest he’d ever get to the place.

As he kissed you, the need to hear you moan had him grinding into you harder, trying to elicit more of those sounds from you. But when you didn’t, he gripped the front of your throat, punctuating his claws into your skin, forcing you to bend backwards as a black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist, preventing you from falling off of Alastor’s lap. He groaned as he watched your skirt ride up your thighs, revealing your drenched red lingerie to him.

Without thought, he ripped the red fabric in two, growling as your cunt glistened before him. Both of his hands pierced into the chunk of your thighs, causing you to whimper as he dragged your sex into his face. The position forced your posture upside down, making all the blood rush to your head as Alastor finally smashed his face into your puffy cunt, penetrating his fat tongue inside you. You moans vibrated off the walls of the parlour room, and you had completely forgotten where you were and what you were doing before this as Alastor’s mouth seemed to cover the entirety of your sex. His tongue thrusting in and out of you whilst the top of his mouth simulated a suction like sensation, stimulating your clit in the process.

His ears twitched with every moan, every cry of his name that left your wet lips, and every squelch that your cunt produced. He never thought this could taste so good. He had eaten many people throughout his life, being a cannibal and all, but not once had he eaten someone in such a way, and he couldn’t deny that this was his new favourite dish; the juices of your cunt.

As your legs began to press against the sides of his head, he could feel the tremors that passed through your plumped thighs, and with how your moans kept increasing in volume, it was obvious to Alastor you were nearing orgasm. It had him feeling heated; your whole lower half crushing his head, almost preventing him from breathing as he ate you out. But oh did he find it incredibly erotic. He couldn’t prevent the build up of his own orgasm as he kept drinking the essence of your cunt. 

Once he heard you basically scream in pleasure, your sex convulsing around his tongue, and your clit throbbing against his teeth, he allowed himself to ejaculate within the confines of his pants, his cock pulsed with every splat that left his tip. He moaned into you, overstimulating you in the process. You tried to pull away, tried to tell Alastor it was too much, but he kept you against his mouth, continuing his ministrations as he rode through his own orgasm. 

“I swear I heard screamin’ Charlie.” You and Alastor both froze as you both heard Angel’s voice in the distance. Panicking, you tried to tear yourself from Alastor and the tentacle wrapped around your torso with more force; but he didn’t let you move. You silently screamed his name through your teeth, anxiety building up as you dreaded the thought of someone catching you with the Radio Demon of all people. 

Abruptly, you felt Alastor retract from you as your back hit against silked covers. Confused, you took in your surroundings, your anxiety vanishing as you realised you were in a different room from the parlour. But it was a room you didn’t recognise.

“Such a silly girl.” Alastor spoke up, still in between your legs as his fingers stroked the skin of your thighs, his eyes connecting with yours. “Did you honestly believe I’d let anyone else witness you in such a state?” He watched you whine as you took in his now undressed form; allowing you to witness all the stitching that wrapped around his body, his small tufts of fur that lavished his chest, and his free cock that was covered in cum and was too heavy to point upwards. 

You couldn’t prevent the moan that left your lips as you concluded that he had cummed from eating you out. 

“No,” He grunted as he pulled your thighs apart before pulling your body down toward him. “This is for my eyes, and my eyes alone.” Pushing his phallic organ against your folds, you gasped as Alastor continued. “You may parade around in such ridiculous little clothing, but this,” His fingers wrapped around your neck. “Is mine.” As he finished, he finally forced his thick and heavy cock in the warm and wet walls of your cunt. “Fuck.” Alastor hissed. He never thought sex would feel so consuming, so fulfilling, so pleasurable.  

The pressure of his fingers against your throat began to consolidate as he fucked his fat cock into you, almost preventing you from breathing. Although Alastor wasn’t an experienced man in sex, he was experienced in the resilience of the throat; he knew exactly how much pressure he needed to apply before it restricted oxygen from entering. And oh how did that do things to you.

As he continued to ram himself into you, he lifted your upper half to him, bringing your face to his, allowing his lips to graze yours. “Give me your soul, darling.” He grunted before initiating a kiss. “Give yourself to me and I’ll give you the seven rings of hell if you please it.” 

You felt the throbbing of your sex begin again as he fucked into you, promising you basically anything you desired as long as you gave your eternal existence to him. The want to be possessed by this man was enveloping you entirely. You didn’t even hesitate before you cried out a passage of yeses. A sharp glow of green screeched throughout the room along with a high pitched shriek as Alastor groaned into your mouth. You could feel stitches that adorned his mouth for barely a second grazing the skin of your lips as he pushed his face into yours; his pace becoming aggressively harder. 

You jolted with every thrust, allowing yourself to cry out as another orgasm was ripped from you, twice as intense as the one you had barely moments ago when it was his tongue inside you and not his cock. As you whined and cried throughout your euphoric feeling, you began to become limp. Alastor only held you tighter, refusing your warmth to leave his cold dead skin as he began to thrust into you as if you were his precious little fuck toy.

If this deal guaranteed that he would fuck you like this on a regular basis, you weren’t going to complain; especially when he was the best fuck you had ever had the satisfaction of experiencing. Instead of treating you as a form of self pleasure, he seemed to only derive his pleasure from yours. Like he got off on you feeling good.

It only confirmed your thoughts as you felt his cock pulsing inside you; splattering his cum further into you after you came down from your own high.

How the fuck did you end up in this predicament again? You only wanted to paint his damn claws.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader smut #smut #alastor #hazbin alastor #reader insert #x reader

[chosopie]

PART 2, CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

RECAP: After Sukuna invades your nation and kills the man you were betrothed to, he decides to take you as his queen. You comply to his requests to keep your little brother Yuji safe.

SUMMARY: You had just been wedded to Sukuna, and now it was time for your mating ceremony.

cw: battle for dominance, oral sex (f receiving), doggy, hair pulling, riding, slight choking, breeding, reader is inspired by helen of troy

: ̗̀➛ part 1

The ballroom in the heart of your palace remained lively with people dancing, singing, and eating heartily. Lots of women would wear outrageously flashy or expensive dresses that would, in their hopes, catch the new King’s eyes. They did not know Sukuna, for he would not even bat an eye at those kind of women. He has come so far to defeat every neighboring nation just to get to yours. He brought death and destruction with his footsteps, and let war sit on the right side of his shoulder just so he could have you in his hands, the woman kings and noblemen from every nation sought after. Your beauty was like no other in the world—so captivating that men would wage wars against each other to have your delicate hand. Your previous fiancé did just that, and quickly failed when Sukuna came lurking behind his careless back.

Tonight, you had just hosted the largest banquet anyone has ever seen. Such a lavish event is fitting for the union of the most beautiful woman in the world and the greatest conquerer man has ever seen. Sukuna patiently waited for you in his quarters, his muscular and broad body covered in a black silk robe with gold embroidery. On the other hand, your handmaidens were bathing you in soaps and fragrances that were made with the finest and rarest materials people can only dream of getting their hands on, yet here they were, being used to bathe your soft body. The girls patted you dry with a big and fluffy towel, then helped you slip onto your sheer nude lingerie that had diamonds around your chest, making your skin glisten in the warm lights. On top of that, you draped a large white silky robe over your body, the cool fabric sending a shiver down your spine.

You passed through the thin curtains and Sukuna was sat on the bed, waiting for you. He looked up, eyes immediately locked on your figure that was barely covered by your garments. He couldn’t help but envision your fully naked body, but he quickly shook those thoughts away upon realization that in a few seconds, he would be able to feast on your bare body. It would be all his.

“Come, woman,” Sukuna gestured you to move closer to him with his pointer finger.

You scoffed. “I have a name. Did you not know?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to forget your name after tonight,” he smirked.

“I’d like to see you try,” you slid off your robe, exposing your body that was barely covered by the lingerie. Sukuna’s eye’s wandered on your chest and down to your plump hips and thighs. You walked towards him, his eyes remained fix on your body as he watched each and every movement you made.

Sukuna looked up at you, his hands stroking your sides and tracing every curve. His touch was warm and it made you burn with excitement. This man was capable of making you feel so much. You could fear him, and at the same time lust over the fact that he could destroy anything within an arm’s length. The power in his hands made you tremble with arousal.

It made you wonder whether you were doing all this just to protect whatever remained of your nation and your baby brother or if you were just as power-hungry as the greedy conquerer beneath you.

You pushed his hands away and slowly took off your lingerie while holding eye contact with him. There was an intense warmth that radiated off his body. You lifted up your arms to cup his face and push it towards the heat of your pussy. To your surprise, he didn’t protest. Instead, he put his hands on your hips for support while he buried his face into your cunt, his hot tongue lapping at your wet folds. You legs shivered and the pacing of your breath quickened.

“Sukuna,” you moaned, and he suddenly stopped. He moved back, but his face remained close to your wetness.

“Call me Ryomen,” he lowly said, before resuming his work.

His mouth was skilled in its work. He repeatedly licked and would occasionally bite on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. It felt like electricity, the way the heat and arousal would travel up to your body with sparks. While he sucked hardly on your clit, he covered his fingers in your slick, then pushed them inside you. You gasped, your fingers tangled in his locks of hair. You moaned and writhed, pushing his head closer to you. At this point, your thighs were suffocating Ryomen, preventing him from breathing, but he didn’t care; his mind was solely focused on making you cum.

“Ryo,” you tried saying, the word smoothly rolling off your tongue. “I’m close.”

Ryomen felt his blood rushing. Most people who dared to speak of his first name would often say it with such fear for their lives, but the way your voice spoke his name made it sound so sweet like nectar was dripping from the tip of your tongue. He groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you hiss. His fingers kept thrusting and curling inside of you in such a fast pace that caught your breath. The pads of his fingers were rubbing your sweet spot while his tongue continued to play with your throbbing clit. The pleasure started to build up and you could feel it on your lower abdomen. You let out a moan before releasing yourself, your fluids coating his fingers and chin.

Your husband stood up and took his robe off, revealing his toned chest, abdomen, the big scar that ran in a straight line from his chest to stomach, and his lengthy cock. He grabbed your hand and placed it right on the scar, letting you trace it with your fingers along with the intricate muscles on his abdomen.

“See what you did? No one has ever been able to get this close to me.” He whispered.

“I know,” you smirked.

“Don’t get too cocky now, girl.” Ryomen warned.

“Me? Cocky?” He grabbed both of your arms and pushed you onto the bed. He held your arms behind your back, firmly holding them in place.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, but Ryomen didn’t hear because your face was pressed onto the sheets of your bed, muffling your voice.

“Arch your back for me,” he said into your ear, his chest pressed against your back.

Your face grew hot. Complying with his request, you arched you back and pushed yourself onto him, the wet head of his cock tapping your ass. Ryomen groaned at the sensation and slapped your ass. It didn’t hurt much, but it stung in a way that only got you more horny. He parted your legs and rubbed his dick on your folds, lubing it with your juices.

He was way too big.

This was going to be your first time and you weren’t sure if you could even take him. With his length and girth, it might end up hurting you. You propped yourself up and turned to look at him from the corner of your eye.

“It’s my first time,” you panted.

“Good,” Ryomen smiled. “Be honored. You’re my first as well. I’ll make sure you can handle it.”

That was the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile. “That’s a surprise.”

“It is the culture of my homeland.”

Ryomen tightly held onto the soft flesh your hips, slowly pushing his dick in you. He starts thrusting with only half of his dick inside, but you already felt so full. His cock is so gritty is rubs every spot in your walls. Your pussy tightly clamps onto him, making his breath quiver. “You’re so tight,” he breathed.

It takes everything in Ryomen to not just thrust into you at full speed. He had to be careful with you, but every instinct in him is telling him otherwise. The sound of your pussy squelching on his length and the way both your fluids were dripping down your labia was driving him crazy. His mind was in a frenzy and his hands grew hot as he continued to feel up your ass.

“Too much,” you whined. “You’re too big.”

“If that was the case, why is your tight greedy pussy pulling me in,” Ryomen lightly chucked as he watched your pussy swallow his dick. The whole of him now buried deep inside you, making a small bulge on your stomach. His hand reached for your hair and tugged on it so you could face him. “Look how well your pussy is taking me.”

Your eyes were watery, not a single thought present behind them. Your mind was trapped in a haze of lust. All you could feel was the big surge of pleasure that came with each thrust. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead and your back.

“Faster, Ryomen.” You dared to say.

“Finally. You can’t take that back anymore, alright?”

With no hesitation, Ryomen started thrusting into you hard and fast, causing your body to rock back and forth, your tits bouncing with you. He cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading on them like dough. You could feel his dick twitching, eager to release its seed and paint the walls of your cunt white. He started panting and groaning, the pace of his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. You could feel another orgasm following through, the tight feeling making your pussy spasm around his cock. A string of moans left your mouth as you allowed yourself to cum all over his dick, your insides tightening then letting go, milking his dick as he came with you. He looked at your shaking figure that glistened with sweat under the lights of the room. He groaned your name and laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

The two of you stared at each other with lust-struck eyes. He was sweating and panting, his cheeks lightly tinted red. With his right hand, he grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him for a messy and passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, eagerly fighting for dominance while the mixture of your spit dribbled down your chin. He lightly squeezed your neck and you moaned into the kiss. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him on to the bed. Your hands remained on his shoulders as you got into a comfortable position to straddle him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, amusement painted his face as he watched with intent.

Lowering yourself on Ryomen, you felt his cock slowly stretch you out again, easily sliding in because of how his cum had filled your walls. You repeatedly bounced on his dick, the tip hitting your sweet spot more effectively. Both your moans filled the room’s quiet atmosphere. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as the warm and hot sensation took over your body once more, your nails digging into his skin, surely leaving marks. There it was again, his cocky smile showing on his face at the sight of you using his dick to get off. It was pathetic to see you try and dominate him in this position, but you just looked like a desperate bitch in heat. He would have never expected you to be so needy for him, after you had put so much effort to convince him with your little facade that you were so angry that he had forcefully taken you as his wife. Deep down, he knew that you had been waiting for this.

Quickly enough, your legs grew tired, but you didn’t want to stop—you were getting close again and you didn’t want to lose the momentum. He notices the way your chest heaved and how your legs trembled from exhaustion. He wraps his arms around your waist, and pushed your body onto his dick, then lifted you up again. This went on, and he was doing all the work again, moving your body up and down with ease while he thrusted into you in sync.

“What a pathetic attempt,” Ryomen laughed. You opened your mouth to say a remark, but the only thing that you could muster up were more moans.

“Did I fuck the brains out of you already? Tell me who you are.”

All you could muster up was a pathetic whine. He was right and you hated it. How could someone inexperienced make you instantly forget your own name with his cock?

“See,” Ryomen triumphantly smiled, baring his teeth. “I fucking told you.”

: ̗̀➛ part 3

#rev.writes #thank u sm for 200 followers!!!!! #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut

[thesuperiorrobin]

“You could have stayed outside yknow?” You say, glancing down at the lace bras and underwear that lay before you. Damian stands behind you protectively—Shopping bags in his hand as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. He doesn’t know where to put his eyes. Everywhere Damian looks, all he sees are mannequins dressed in nice colorful lace propped up for everyone to see and women holding the garments up to their bodies as they chat along with close friends in a debate on what looks good on them.

The youngest Wayne, by any means, is not good under a setting like this and you know this. You had reassured him earlier that he didn’t have to come inside with you, telling him that you’d be alright and he could just wait outside like everybody’s boyfriends and Dads but he had refused.

“I told you I’m alright. I don’t mind” he clears his throat, eyes glaring at the back of your head as you keep glancing around. You can feel his gaze and it makes you chuckle as you pick up a piece of green lace and another of red.

“Oh! what about these” You turn around facing the taller man, holding them up side by side as you alternate back and forth placing them up against your front. “Which one would look good on me for Wednesday?”

Damian green orbs glance between the two sets, he starts to flush and his skin starts to feel warm, and he clutches the bags in his hand “They both would look good on you beloved”

You huff arms dropping to your side “You say that with everything I show you”

“That’s because it’s true” his should lift and drop for a quick second. “Why not get both?”

“They’re both expensive” You bring your arms back up to take another good look. Eyeing both carefully. “And besides I’m pretty sure by the end of the night they’ll end up in shreds anyway”

Damian takes a look at the teasing grin you send him and he rolls his eyes. “Then a good idea to get both. Money isn't a problem.” You feel his breath up against your ears, the sensation making you giggle “And besides, it’s just like you before beloved, these will most likely end up in shreds so it’s best to get two just in case”

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne headcanon

[toruslvt]

  ִֶָ casualties ↪ part two of mafia boss sukuna.

⋆ mdni. semi public ( public place but no people around ) unprotected sex, mentions of guns and bribes, keep in mind he is literally a gangster, none of his behaviors are ‘normal’, mirror sex, slight stalking ( sending people to investigate you ), breeding kink and creampies, pet names used: princess, doll, my girl/love, sweetheart.

after your first encounter, it only took the man a flick of his wrist and your whole life was settled in a stack of papers on his coffee table, smirk tugging on the corner of his lip and a cigarette tightly held on his free hand. your address was the easiest part, with your father being an important member of the mafia, it was only normal for his men to get the direction in the blink of an eye, perfectly in time for Sukuna to start sending large bouquets of flowers with an unknown sender, although his scent was present on each petal, just for you to admire and your father to frown.

it was not too much work either to find your birthday, friends and places you often visit, after all you were a public figure as well, —that and a couple of bribes to your acquaintances it’s all it took.

the store of a luxury clothing brand stood in front of his car, tinted glasses concealing Sukuna’s half hooded eyes and knowing smirk, of course the princess would only shop at the most expensive places, perhaps using daddy’s black card. it’d be a lie if Sukuna said his cock didn’t throb at the idea of you using his black card next, to your heart’s content.

the pink haired man was not one to follow his impulses, to him everything was premeditated, carefully studied so things went smoothly like the fat wad of bills slipping into the retail’s clerk pocket, and much similar to the subtleness in his men’s loaded guns pressed against your bodyguards sides, who trembled in fear, so pathetic.

“tsk” Sukuna thinks, “i should get better guards for my girl” with a swift movement he fixes his cuffs, straightening the jacket suit and matching black half buttoned shirt underneath, allowing his tattoos to be seen.

and it takes his whole self control in not opening the dressing room door where he knows, you’re in, and sloppily make out with you, pants tightening at the memory of your fucked out and dizzy expression. fuck, he’s so hard already. but instead optes to sit on the large leather couch in the middle of the VIP space, his eyes scanning the quietness and luxury in ceiling high mirrors and marble floors.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, finally stepping out of from behind the wooden door and attempting not to let your surprise be seen, but considering the slight twitch in Sukuna’s lip, your attempts probably failed.

“it’s good to see you too, doll.” he almost purrs, eyes drifting up and down the sight of your body in a tight dress, “won’t you turn around for me?” he teases, licking his lips.

yet you remain still, raising a brow and crossing your arms, taking a peek at the now empty room.

“come on, sweetheart, just one turn, for me?” Sukuna grins, sliding a thumb over his bottom lip, “i’ll answer all your questions later” and you’re pliant enough to comply, twirling around with a slight burn in your face, questioning him once again.

his grin never falters, only increasing with your cute actions, deciding to stand up and calmly walk towards the clothing rack, humming in delight at the beautiful garments that would look absolutely stunning on his bedroom floor, “can’t a man shop freely now?” he teases, handing you a matching skirt and top set in an oddly similar color to his hair.

“yeah? i had no idea you liked to shop at an all women’s store” you tease back, allowing for Sukuna to rest his hand on your waist, his whole self made you weak in the knees, a whiff of his cologne and you wanted more.

he chuckles, deeply and rumbling on his chest, making you bite back a whine as his hand guides you to the dressing room, his voice dropping to an intimate level, yet he still bends down to breath against your ear, “then, would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” Sukuna whispers, pressing his lips against your nape; you’re not certain of what moment he made you get into the room and close the door softly behind him, only your reflection in the mirror bringing you back to reality, “you’re awfully hard to find, sweetheart” hands trail down your sides, squeezing the sides of your breasts just slightly, “has your daddy been keeping you away from me? did he find out about the lewd things I did to his precious daughter?”

you can’t help the soft moan off your lips at the sensation of the man’s bulge pressing on your lower back, the sight of his large, filled with rings and tattooed hands cupping your body made you dizzy, Sukuna having to bend down to easily nip on your nape, and gently brush your hair out of the way.

“he doesn’t know”

“he doesn’t?, that’s a pity, i’d love to see his reaction when he finds out i’m the one making you this wet and pliant” he chuckles, fingers dancing around the slit on the dress, so sensually your knees bucked, threatening to make you fall if it weren’t because of his arm around your waist.

you whine, “don’t... say that”

“it’s the truth, princess, there’s nothing else I want than having the world know you’re mine” Sukuna groans, raising the hem of your dress and maintaining it tightly under his arm, his other free hand gently cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so you meet his gaze through the mirror, “eyes on me, watch who’s making you feel this good”

with a last nibble on your neck, Sukuna roughly pushes your panties down, not wasting any time in sliding his digits through your drenched slit, coating your clit in your own scent. he’s rock hard at this point, breath coming out ragged in sheer desperation to be buried in your cunt, besides from the lewd picture you paint in the mirror, eyes glossy, lips parted and letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard.

another trait of Sukuna, is that he’s not patient, in the slightest, so when a finger urgently slips inside your warm walls you shudder in response, hips bucking, almost flopping forward by the tremble in your legs, “good girl, so wet for me” he rasps, licking a fat strip down your neck and towards your shoulder, maintaining eye contact like his life depends on it.

“more...” you beg and his resolve crumbles, his initial plan of making you shiver and beg quickly by wanting to give you what you need, you make him go dizzy, you make him want to give you whoever you ask for, kiss the floor where you step.

“my greedy girl” Sukuna groans, rubbing his cheek with yours as another finger plunges in, messily fucking your hole that drips slick down his wrist, then another until your nails dig in his arm, “you’re ready for me, aren't you?” his voice is low and raspy, hidden lust behind each gasp. Sukuna is quick to undo his pants, cock bobbing in arousal, already dripping with precum as he guides the tip to your pussy, slowly sinking in with his breath hitching, “there we go”

if you weren’t looking at him, Sukuna would be very certain his rolls could have rolled back at the wetness and tightness of your cunt swallowing him inch by inch, his cock pulsing, “fuck, princess, it’s as good as I remember” he licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist and slightly bending you further in the air.

“your body is begging for it, I can feel your count spasming around me” he smiles, thrusting in deeper, harder, making you take more of his incredible length until his heavy and full balls are nestled on your ass.

“’Kuna...!” you mewl, eyes hooded, threatening to fall shut but the explicit sight of Sukuna filling your hole made you resist, only fueling your desire and lust.

“yes, sweetheart, that’s right, it’s Sukuna the one making your pussy feel so good” he groans, hands grazing your sides in a tight grip before pulling back and forcefully slamming his cock inside, heart racing at the sound of your moans and sticky pussy squelching around his girth.

“o—ohh! fuck!” you moan, half scream at the rough pace Sukuna sets, forcing your body to jolt back and forth, tits about to fall from the low neckline of the expensive dress you tried on, you definitely had to buy it now, “too deep!

he groans in return, “the deeper the better” voice is slightly shaky, “i can reach your cervix properly” it’s a promise, to fill your fertile womb once again like he did weeks ago.

there’s sobs and moans echoing in the room, mixed with the sounds of your mixed juices, and Sukuna is only fueled by them, his hips pounding faster, most definitely leaving your ass sore from the brutal way his balls and hips slam against your soft skin. he holds no respect for your possible future uncomfortableness, only thinking of claiming your cunt.

“i’m close” Sukuna groans, sliding a hand between your drenched legs, pressing two fingers against your clit and messily rubbing in desperate circles, slightly embarrassed of the fact you’re going to make him cum so much and so soon, but how can you blame him when your pussy squeezes him like a tight grip, as if begging him for more.

leaning down he claims your lips, it’s as sloppy as his thrusts and wet as your slick dripping down his cock, “need you to cum with me” he murmurs.

“close!” you manage to cry out against his mouth, only for a brief second before his tongue plunges into your mouth again, swallowing your sounds but allowing the noise of your pussy to resonate, “oh, S-sukuna! i’m cumming” you cry, and there’s the precious and slutty expression he loves so much, eyes crossed as you shudder on his cock, trembling so much he would have been afraid you’d fall, but Sukuna is quicker, selfishly keeping you up to shoot his thick sperm deep in your willing pussy, a deep growl rumbling on the walls as he pumps you, a couple of times so he’s sure his cum would take.

“so gorgeous” he rasps, breathless, meeting your hazy eyes through the mirror while mindlessly rubbing your belly, “i’ll take care of you, my love, i’ll give you whatever your heart desires..., but in return, I just ask for one thing” he murmurs, “let me creampie your tight pussy every single day.”

that’s certainly Sukuna’s own way of asking you out.

🔖𖹭 @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09

#𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut

[planeteroticaaa]

— ATTENTION

“let’s just go, my dear. cause the way you put it on, made me wanna take it off you.”

nanami was typically a rather patient man, but tonight he couldn’t help the twitch in his eye or the deep scowl on his face as he watched you make conversation with a group of his colleagues. you weren’t aware of the way they gawked at you in that long, black body con dress you wore—their eyes flickering from the generous amount of cleavage the low v-neck flashed to the way the wind blew the slit of the garment to show more of your legs each time your eyes closed when smiling that same smile that wooed him 5 years ago just as it was doing them now.

it wasn’t intentional, he knew it wasn’t. you just wanted to make a good impression, especially because you knew it could tarnish the way people at his job viewed him, but fuck were you doing too good of a job at pretending to care about what that arrogant, asshole of a boss had to say.

nanami hadn’t wished to go to this work party, ready to lie his way out of it and while you chalked it up to your husband not wishing to socialize, his worried were rooted deeper than that…you. he knew his collages would waste no time surrounding you in disbelief that nanami had a wife and in even more disbelief on just how beautiful you were.

how was it that you were the center of attention everywhere you went? that you turned this party from something everyone felt obligated to attend to wishing that it didn’t have to end at 12am because now it was about to be 2am and nanami was in the corner messing with his now loosened tie, waiting for you to finish your last drink so you could leave as he wanted to take that dress off of you just as much as his boss did.

he himself was surrounded by his female colleagues—each in his ear about how you “left him to flirt with other men right in his face,” their words full of malicious intent that would make any other man question had it not been nanami. he didn’t care for these women—hell, nobody did when you were here, hypnotizing everybody with the way that dress hugged your curves or how contagious your laugh was, the sound blessing their ears, the sway of your hips when you walked, that damn smile luring them in like a moth to a flame.

his resolve was slowly crumbling—checking the time on his expensive watch each time these women opened their mouth to throw another jab at you, staring at you from afar, eyes asking—no, begging you to leave for it was late and he didn’t know how much more patient he could be with you looking like that and them looking at you like that. he’s adjusted himself for the nth time tonight, uncomfortable by the strain in his dress pants. you were driving him insane and he hadn’t even realized he started making his way over to you until he grabbed your wrist.

“you ready to go, my love?” he asked, but something about the way he stared at you—his usual kind, brown eyes now narrowed and dark—that he wasn’t asking you. “ken—” “y/n.” was all he said, voice low and sturn, shutting down any chance of argument, tension so thick it left everyone around you quiet.

he was tired, pissed, and needed you more than anything right now and you couldn’t help but to hook your arms around his stronger one, your smaller frame against his with his bicep pressed up against your breast. “i thought you’d never ask,” you said after smiling and pulling him down to your level by his tie so that your lips brushed against his. yeah, he knew you were all his.

“i see the tension rising…i feel the temperature rising.”

in honor of my man dropping this HEAVEN SENT album🤭! but in all seriousness, i wanted to give you guys a little something because school has been kicking my ASSSS, but i got yall again soon! — ♱. erotica

— tags list!: @kashxyou, @lame-xxx, @ninacutebee16, @ynishalee, @im-a-simp-4-2d-men (submit your tumblr username here if you wish to be added!)

#planeteroticaaa #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #husband nanami #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen

[blingblong55]

Pleasure -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Based on a request:

for kinktober what about you make one with two pornstars or maybe Ghost does a colab with a cam girl from only fans who he has had a crush on and he is so obsessed with her that in the video he keeps kissing her and praising her body im horny so its why im requesting this _____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, porn star!Ghost, cam girl!reader, oral!sex, unprotected!sex, P-in-V _____

Simon is a well-known actor in the porn community and has made videos with other female creators before but there is one female content creator that he loves to watch. He has been obsessed with your body and content for years. He and you are in his flat, getting the lighting and cameras ready when he starts smiling at how gorgeous you are. "What's wrong?" you ask him when he stares at your face again. "Nothing, you're just too pretty." He walks over to you and smirks, the cameras recording, you and he know what will happen. He can't wait any longer, no intros just him wanting to fuck you.

"Such a pretty girl," his thumb under your chin, making you look up at him. His lips on yours, so obsessed with the plump lips you carry. Big strong arms around you, taking you to the bed and never letting his lips leave you. Your skirt lifted, panties slid down and he smirked, one nod, "Ready?" He knows his side always surprises the girls he fucks and he likes it but he wants to be careful with you, and wants to take it slow for the first time in his career. "I'm ready, Ghost." You use his pornstar name. "Good, darling," he kisses your neck, your arms wrapped around him. Your soft thighs spread, his bulge hitting your wet cunt as he dry humps you. Getting eager by the second to fuck you.

His finger teases your slick, and you squirm. "Ghost, please~" your hips buck, rocking them against his fingers. He chuckles. "Someone is ready to be fucked, isn't that right, darling," he kisses your forehead. You bite your lip and smile, "I need you to fuck me," you whisper. "Oh, I will fuck you pretty good," he kisses your neck, your hands on the zipper of his jeans. You take his cock out, you open your mouth. "Oh not yet darling, let me have fun." He whispers and spits on his fingers before stuffing them inside of you.

The camera captures how your body and his connect, he begins to kiss your clothed chest before he slowly removes the garments. In past videos, he would be rough with the women, with you, it's different. The tip of his cock slapping on your pussy. "Just take it slow," he whispers against your ear. His size, spreading your folds open, you let out whimpers, by far being the biggest man inside of you. Your hands wrapped around him, "Mark me, love," he tells you. It's like he finally found the woman he needed. The thrusts are slow, he doesn't want to hurt you, wants to get you used to his size before he fucks you with no mercy.

"Oh god," you moan as his thumb rubs your clit, your eyes on him. He knows you love it, he knows how much he needs to give you orgasm after orgasm. He kisses your forehead repeatedly, your pussy becoming his fleshlight. You and him, fucking on camera but with a burning passion that began when he picked you up at your place. How he immediately touched your thigh as he drove back to his, looking at you as if you were made from a dream. Your hands on his hips, his cock buried deep in you, your juices as a natural lube for him. He slips in and out of you with care, "You're so perfect, you know that?" He whispers. It was rare, you expected him to be rough like he was with the other women.

The body he watched on his phone as he imagined fucking himself into you, now keeping it warm. Your lips open a little, and he kisses them, his back with light scratches from your pretty nails. "Look at you," he smiles, and kisses your chest, his eyes never leave yours, it's like a trance. "I love this," he moans when he feels the pre-cum leak from him, your walls clenching around him. "Milk me, darling, milk me for everything I'm worth. I'm yours," he kisses you again and again."

He grabs a camera, missionary position as he records you and the way his cock disappears within you. He zooms in on your cunt, you chuckle and he smiles. His spit all over your body. Your pierced tits are already covered in love bites. All men will know you had me to pleasure you, was all he repeated as he kissed your tits and shoulders. It was like he was already possessive of you. His back with more scratches and that's when he couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck this, I need you R/N," he uses your real name. The camera is thrown to the side, hiding in the pillows.

He makes sure to wrap your legs around him, your arms holding him close to you. His cock sliding into you again as he begins to get rougher with his thrusts. "Fuck, Simon," you whimper. He smirks knowing he can keep this up and fuck you dumb. Wants to make you so sensitive it can manipulate you into saying you love him. You and him, both getting drunk on sex. His arms wrap around you as well. Your hand on his ass while the other marked him all over again. He groans and looks at you with loving eyes. "Just like that baby, just like that," his wide cock so fat, you begin to cry from pleasure. "Simon…fuck..please, please it…ah..n-ngh~" your teary eyes getting kissed. A grin appears on his face, "You like that? Oh my baby, so cute and small for my dick, huh baby," he kisses you again. It was like you held the antidote between them. You feel your core ache, your orgasm ready to spill all over him. "Come for me, I know you want to, R/N."

He rubs your clit again. Your moans like the star you are, too pornographic it made the neighbours understand what the single man brought the girl for. Your juices spill all over him. His under-tummy getting covered in it and for him it was glory. He doesn't stop, he pulls out and fingers your tight cunt. "S-…fuck… Simon..please," you whine. "Sensitive already?" he chuckles. He slaps your tits, hand on your neck, choking you as he lets the cameras capture what everyone knew he would eventually do. He slaps your tight cunt and moves so his dick is now by your mouth. "Fucking suck me off like the slut you are," he slaps your face multiple times until he has you opening your mouth. Your tears spilling out, his fat cock creating a bulge in your throat. His thrusts are finally animalistic, classic Ghost. Your hands try to stop him but all he does is rub your sensitive clit over and over. He pulls out, "Say you love me, bitch," he slaps you. Your tits bounce.

"I…n-ngh…S…Simon…" You cry and stutter. He slaps you again. "Fucking say it," he demands with a growl in his voice. "I..I love….y-you," you whimper and he grins. His cock is back in your mouth and he begins to fuck your throat again. He grabs the camera again and as he was about to come, he pulls out, "stick your tongue out, bitch," he commands. You do so, your tits in the frame as he strokes his cock. While all in frame, his cum falls on your face, leaking so far that some ends in your tits. You smile as he makes sure the camera captures how much of a pretty mess he and you made.

A/N: need to be this mans slut so bad

Tags:

@liyanahelena @kit-kats06 @itstokyo-cos @cherry-bunnyyy @koko-1025 @actuallyhiswife @lols-wdym @fandomsinthegalaxies @rockcollector3000 @red-dead-raptor @ess-perspective-blog @lav1-isgay @havoc973 @kenjizixx @w4lk3rss @fruitymoonbeams-blog @moondust-imagines @meowbertwhisker @vanillachaii @liidiaaag @ghost-is-my-bbg @anonymuslydumb @ilovejquinn @hayleybarnesx @jamesrifftapes @literallylovered @channelsoph @undercover-smutlover @lunamoonbby @fandomishiguess @evilcherries @simpofghostandprice @r0mant1c-p4r1site

#cod kinktober #kinktober #cod ghost #cod mw2 #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon smut #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #cod mw ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader angst #simon x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #ghost riley x reader #ghost riley

[dwellordream]

My daughter at that time was five years old. When she saw a neighborhood cat carrying a freshly killed baby bunny she said to me: “Anne, I can hardly stand it, how nature eats nature.” It was a time when we dreamed of zombies. We dreamed of a black banty chicken who broke out of her small white house. We dreamed of an old man whose stick-limbs were swaddled, whose giant head, above the swaddling, spoke only to make anagrams out of phrases spoken around him. At the top of a parking garage, I stood next to him and stared at a river. The river was swollen and carrying off trash and broken trees.

Anne Boyer, “Ma Vie en Bling: A Memoir” in Garments Against Women

#anne boyer #garments against women #word to the wise

[nesyanast]

On November 23, 1909, more than twenty thousand Jewish Yiddish-speaking immigrants, mostly young women in their teens and early twenties, launched an eleven-week general strike in New York’s shirtwaist industry. Dubbed the Uprising of the 20,000, it was the largest strike by women to date in American history. The young strikers’ courage, tenacity, and solidarity forced the predominantly male leadership in the “needle trades” and the American Federation of Labor to revise their entrenched prejudices against organizing women. The strikers won only a portion of their demands, but the uprising sparked five years of revolt that transformed the garment industry into one of the best-organized trades in the United States.

#jumblr #jewish #jews #judaism #nesyapost #jewish history #jewish reading #yiddish #Jewish women #American history #women's history #workers history #proletariat #1909 #nyc #workers strike

[scribendis]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Aemond Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, dry humping, p in v sex, semi-public sex, newlyweds being horny, little bit of profanity, breeding kink if you squint really, really hard Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~3,500

Summary: Upon returning to camp from a hunt in the Kingswood, Aemond looks for a way to keep his wife warm on a bitterly cold night.

A/N: Serendipitously conceptualized ages ago but written (very late!) for the first week of the @hotd-bigbang winter word prompts challenge - Fire | Furs | Forest

Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link

The setting sun cast long shadows across the small city of tents that made up the hunting camp in the Kingswood. While the men had spent the day combing the forest for boars, stags, and other game, the women had occupied the main tent. They gorged themselves on cakes and other sweets, all the while indulging in gossip that ranged from the salacious to the downright treasonous. 

And, much to the chagrin of the new wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, they pestered her endlessly about the burgeoning love life of her and her husband. She quickly learned that, to be a woman in the king’s court meant sharing every last, excruciating detail of one’s “wifely duties” so that the others could compare them with their own. So that they could all know whose husbands fucked them the best and complain about their own lackluster experiences. 

They questioned her until she was beet-red in the face and one of the older women finally called for an end to her torment. Still, it would taste a lie for her to say that all their titillating conversation about lovemaking had not made her ache desperately for her husband. 

But by the time that night finally claimed the sprawling camp, the men had still not returned from the hunt. It signaled to the waiting wives that their husbands would come back without their prize, frustrated and exhausted - and that they would later fall into their beds reeking of wine. 

The call of horns and the distant sound of barking hounds was their cue to don their furs and exit the tent to greet the arriving men. The prince’s wife was glad for the fur-lined cloak that her husband had procured for her for just such an occasion as this. She was even more grateful for the garment as she exited the tent only to be met with the sting of the cold night air on her cheek. The women elected to wait for their husbands by the bonfire that raged in the middle of the camp, its light their only source of warmth as frost began to settle on the Kingswood. 

It was easy for her to spot her husband among the group of riders, his long silver hair unmistakable in the light of the rising moon. Whatever otherworldly quality his Valyrian features gave him seemed amplified tonight - and it made the sight of him astride a horse even more odd to her. Were her husband any other lord of the realm, his approach on horseback would not have seemed out of place. But Targaryens were no horse riders. Still, Aemond effortlessly commanded the steed beneath him, his mastery reminiscent of the way he would handle a dragon.

As the crowd of riders began to disperse, her eyes remained fixed on her husband. Amid the thundering of horses’ hooves and the raucous laughter of the noble lords, Aemond's attention, too, was solely focused on her. The intensity of his gaze only intensified her excitement, eliciting a gentle flutter in her belly.

With grace and ease, Aemond slipped off of the horse’s back. A waiting servant took his leather riding gloves from him, but Aemond could very well have let them fall to the dirt for as little attention as he paid to anyone but her. 

Aemond was always loath to indulge in any public affection, aside from the occasional hand at the small of his wife’s back or a brief touch upon her cheek. Even now that he was reunited with her after such a long day apart, his restraint came in the form of a soft kiss brushed against her temple and nothing more. But the way that his arm wrapped around her and his hand dared to wander much lower than her waist - and the way his eye held hers so intently - told her just how much he had missed her. How much he needed her.

Given Aemond’s usually stoic demeanor, she had never thought that he would be needy, but he had proven to be just that in the few weeks since they had been wed. They had already made love in the depths of the palace library more times than she could count, and discovered countless other hidden places throughout the Keep where his hands had found their way up her skirts and his lips had left marks on her neck. Some mornings, he would forego training altogether to stay in bed with her with his face between her legs or his cock buried inside her. 

And he had not heard a single complaint from her yet. 

“Ābrazȳrys, your skin is cold to the touch,” Aemond commented, a hint of concern lacing his soft voice. His lips lingered at her temple for a moment longer before he withdrew, taking one of her hands in his. “As are your fingers.” (wife)

She smiled. His own hand was as warm as ever. “I am no dragon like you, dear husband. The cold night air chills me to the bone.”

“And the furs I gave you do not suffice?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She shook her head. “Nor the bonfire.” 

Aemond hummed, his displeasure at such an assurance quite clear. He brought her fingers to his lips, blowing warm air on them before kissing them. “Come, jorrāeliarza. I have another idea for how we might offer you some warmth on such a cold night.” (beloved)

Still with an arm drawn around her, he swiftly guided her around the bonfire and, to her surprise, past the royal tent where food, wine, and music awaited them. She glanced over her shoulder questioningly at the entrance to the tent, from which poured an inviting golden light, but Aemond seemed determined on his path. 

“Aemond, are we… not going inside?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eye as they passed a flickering torch. “I thought I would spare you any further conversation with the ladies of the court.”

“And I thank you for that, dear husband,” she said with a laugh, her words falling from her lips in fleeting clouds of mist that looked like she was breathing smoke. “But I do not think–”

Aemond stopped them in their tracks and turned to her, staying any further words by sweeping in to press his lips firmly against hers. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

Once freed from his bruising kiss, she stood, dazed, for a moment before any further thoughts could come to her - something that her husband had certainly noticed given the grin that spread across his lips. She pushed him away playfully with a little scoff and an over-exaggerated look of annoyance that drew a rare chuckle from him.

“I am not one of your Targaryen dragons,” she protested, drawing her furs tighter around herself. “Those… dragon commands won’t work on me.”

Aemond leaned in to meet her at eye level, offering an arm to her that she took. “But it did work, did it not?”

She was still none the wiser about their destination as her husband quickly guided them beyond the boundaries of the camp and toward the treeline. The leaves had taken on stunning hues of red, orange, and yellow, a sight that she had marveled at from within the wheelhouse on their way into the Kingswood that morning. But in the cover of night, that beauty was lost to the pitch-black darkness. Not even the light of the moon could permeate the thick canopy of trees, leaving the forest an endless void. 

She did not fear the darkness, only the occasional sound of a twig snapping or the call of some unknown creature. As husband and wife disappeared from the sight of the camp, she found herself clutching onto him more tightly. 

“Aemond, where are we going?” she whispered as though speaking at full volume would topple one of the mighty trees. 

“Patience, jorrāeliarza.”

“What if there are wolves out here, Aemond–”

“There are no predators in the Kingswood. And, if there were,” Aemond turned to her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “do you think that I would let them harm even a single hair on your head?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “Do not worry. We can stop here.”

She glanced around, seeing the pleasant glow of the camp in the near distance and nothing but darkness everywhere else. “Here?” 

“I thought, perhaps, you would want to be a bit further from camp…” he purred. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him lean in. One of his hands reached up to pull her furs aside and his lips found her neck, warm and soft as they began to kiss her skin. She felt his hum vibrate against her pulse point, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly. “Given how loud you can be, dōna ābrazȳrys.”

A gasp left her and her head tilted away from his lips, begging silently for more. Tomorrow would call for yet another dress with a high neckline, she thought. 

“I’ve… I’ve not heard that one before…” He regularly called her all manner of names in High Valyrian. She often found him muttering to himself in his ancestral tongue. One night, he had even spoken it in his sleep. She knew a small handful of words, but only those few. “What does that mean?”

“Sweet wife,” Aemond breathed against her neck, leaving a bit of warmth behind before his lips captured hers once again. “You taste sweet tonight, too.”

“It must be the… the wine, I think,” she gasped. “Or the lemon cakes…” 

But the growing hunger inside him was not for the sweetness of cakes or Arbor gold. 

He kissed her more deeply this time, lips coaxing hers apart to taste her tongue for himself. His hands fell to her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh to draw her body against his. And, in doing so, he finally offered her the warmth he had previously promised her - one that not even the hottest bonfire could provide. 

As his fingers began to deftly ruck up her skirts, she felt her skin prickle. At the same time, an entirely different kind of heat began to spread through her until it found its familiar place between her legs. Moaning softly into their continued kiss, she dropped her hands to the closure of his trousers, where his obvious arousal strained against the dark fabric. 

“Gods, Aemond, you're so hard and I've barely touched you," she breathed against his lips. “Did you miss me?” But she knew the answer, and how pleasing it was to know just how badly she had been missed that day. 

His only reply was a grunt that rose in his throat as his hands slipped beneath her smallclothes and all but tore them from her. Despite the rough, calloused spots on his palms and fingers, his warm touch was a balm against the cold night air. In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lifted her by her arse so that she had no choice but to envelop his hips with her legs. It taunted her, the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her wet entrance. His trousers were a tedious, unwanted barrier between them. 

Their passionate embrace only became more heated as Aemond pinned her to the trunk of one of the trees and his body pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed, inadvertently causing friction between her clit and his still-clothed hardness that was too delicious to keep a moan from stuttering past her lips. 

“It would seem that you missed me as well, jorrāeliarza,” he rasped with a playful smirk. Teasingly, he rolled his hips against hers to coax another one of those sweet sounds from her. “Come on. Take what you need.”

She needed no further convincing, as great as the ache between her legs had grown. Her grip on the collar of his longcoat tightened and she took over, rocking her hips against his at a slow, but steady, pace. Each gasp and moan that left her lips billowed from them in a smoke-like mist, until she tucked her head into the crook of her husband’s neck and the sounds became muffled against his throat. He smelled of horse and sweat and, if she searched for it, the soap he had used the night before. But he tasted divine as her lips began to pepper open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Judging by the trembling breaths that she felt against her hair, this teasing was just as pleasurable for her husband as it was for her. His own grip on her arse tightened, as though he was fighting to hold on. Knowing him, he wanted only the satisfaction of spilling himself inside her. 

But his own torture would not go on for much longer, as her rutting against him was quickly bringing her to the brink of release. Her pace quickened, desperate as she was to reach it. Finally, the pleasure inside her began to unfurl and its warmth spread through her. From head to toe, it enveloped her completely as though she had been submerged into a hot bath.   

It was exactly as Aemond had promised. In the grips of her climax, the frigid air mattered little, if at all.

Gasping for breath as she came down again, she pressed her lips to his and he received her kiss greedily. No doubt he was desperate for his own release after watching her come apart - and how could she refuse him?

“You know,” she began as her hands fell to his trousers once again. Only, this time, her fingers made quick work of the closures. “Earlier, all the women wanted to know how good you are in bed.”

Their gazes locked and, even in the darkness of the forest, she could see the almost animalistic desire in his one good eye. But as desperate as he was to be inside her, he seemed almost equally as intrigued by her words. She freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and took it into her hand. Her simple act of stroking him once was enough to draw a low groan out of him.

“Fucking gossips,” Aemond replied huskily. His lips drew close to hers but did not quite meet them. “Do I wish to know what you told them?”

She grinned. Her fingers guided his cock to her slick entrance but stopped there momentarily. “I told them–” Her words were cut off by a moan as he buried himself inside her quickly and without warning. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, fuck?” Aemond repeated teasingly, raising a brow. “Am I so bad at it, jorrāeliarza?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face belied any attempts at fooling her into thinking that he believed that to be her true confession earlier that day. 

Too impatient, he began to move his hips against hers - and she met each of his slow, steady thrusts with movements of her own. Misty air surrounded them amid their shared panting, both of them relishing in the sensation of becoming one again after such a long day apart.

She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, where strands of her hair began to tangle in its rough bark. But she hardly noticed or cared at all, especially as her husband’s lips reclaimed her neck and his hot breaths swept along the contours of her jaw. 

“Ābrazȳrys.”

She became so lost in the carnal pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of her that Aemond’s voice barely reached her. It did not help at all that his pace began to quicken as the heat between them grew to a simmer. The cry of pleasure that left her mingled with the sounds of the forest, joining the nighttime symphony of hooting owls and the rustling of the crisp underbrush.

“What did you tell them?” Aemond pressed. His own composure was starting to fail him and his words came out strained. 

A breathy laugh left her. He always purported to care little about what the members of his father’s court thought of him. But, evidently, that sentiment did not extend to his wife and her opinions. 

She placed a hand on his cheek to pull his lips to hers, kissing him deeply as pleasure began to coil inside her anew. “I told them,” she panted, her eyes opening to meet his, “that my husband is not the one riding the largest dragon in the world.”

Whatever Aemond had expected her to say, it clearly was not that. For a moment, his hips stilled and he looked as stunned as the ladies had been when she had uttered those same words that morning. One of them had even spilled a full cup of wine down her pale blue dress as she stared at her like some startled animal. 

“My, my…” he purred.

But his look of shock fell away just as quickly. Replacing it was a ferocity that she had never seen from him before. A hunger that her words had awakened inside him which only she could satiate. There were no more soft words of love, or the usual names he called her while making love to her. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips and he resumed his movements against her. 

Aemond quickly built up a brutal pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Any thoughts or complaints about how bitterly cold it was outside had been long forgotten, drunk as she was on the intensity of the pleasure he was fucking into her her. Even her moans began to leave her in choked gasps and broken mewls that, if anyone in the hunting camp heard her, would have sounded no different than the calls of some creature of the forest.

She could feel it, the straining of her muscles and the tightening of her insides. The tremble that overtook her as she hurtled toward the edge along with him. She felt like a handkerchief being squeezed of water, and he would not stop his tightening of her until he had wrung her of every last drop.  

Her eyes fluttering, she leaned in to capture Aemond’s lips in a kiss that he did not reciprocate in his own carnal pursuit of release. “Aemond…” “Mm-mm,” he chided, his tone gruffer and far lower than she had ever heard it. “I want to see you.” 

One of his hands released its grip on her arse and moved to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly and ensure she could not look away. As he watched her, he groaned deeply in his own fight to hold on until he could get precisely what he wanted. 

And it only took three simple words from him to finish her at last.

“Cum for me.” 

Like a dam breaking, all the building pleasure that had been twisting inside her released. Coaxed by the continued pounding of his hips against hers, it spread into every extremity as her body shuddered and her cries of ecstasy filled the dense, frosty air. The fluttering of her walls around him soon spelled the end for him, too. With a few more ragged thrusts, he found his release inside her.

His eye squeezed shut. His lips, kiss-swollen, parted. And then, a certain look of peace overtook him.  

Although still lost in her own haze of pleasure, she watched him closely - and she decided that he had never looked more beautiful. 

They remained in their loving embrace, neither one wanting to pull away from the other just yet. Her, with her legs still encircling his hips, and him, with one hand holding her up and the other at her neck. Aemond pressed his forehead to hers and his thumb began to caress her cheek tenderly.

She hadn’t spoken of these moments to the women of the court that day. About how her husband could fuck her within an inch of her life and, immediately thereafter, treat her with such affection and softness. With such devotion in each caress of his fingers and every soft word he uttered.

Their breathing soon began to slow once again and the world around them finally came back into view. Smiling, she brushed the tip of her nose against his before kissing him so deeply that he hummed in surprise. But he reciprocated earnestly, slowly setting her back down on the ground but never quite letting her go.

“We should return to the camp,” Aemond said as he re-adjusted her furs on her shoulders. “I would not have you catch your death out here in the cold, jorrāeliarza.”

A sweet grin spread across her lips, but something wicked glistened in her eyes. “Oh, but my husband has already given me all the warmth I require.”

#hotd winter prompts 23 #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #ewan mitchell fics #ewan mitchell fanfic #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #works by laurel

[nyimasu]

BLEACH MEN, PART 1

───── 𝑊𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝑇𝑈𝑅𝑁𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑀 𝑂𝑁

— CHARACTERS : Urahara Kisuke, Hirako Shinji, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

— CONTENT WARNING : sex toys, fingering, oral (f receiving), lingerie kink, rough manhandling, bdsm content (primal sex play, biting), use of pet names, dry humping, bits of breast play, cervix fucking, creampie, dacryphilia

ANYA'S CORNER : this is the first part of my bleach hcs regarding men. soon I will be digging into the beautiful world of bleach women too 🤍

you can find the second part here !

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

✧. URAHARA KISUKE — SEX TOYS

It doesn’t matter if he’s on the receiving end or you are. At the end of the day, Urahara Kisuke is the winner, and the victor takes it all.

“Kisuke, ‘s too much. Be gentler, please.”

The low buzzing cuts off, its pressure vanishes from your aching clit and a soft kiss in the crook of your knee follows your words, as if to accept them. Then the tender moment turns into a steamy one when a chuckle comes from the man nestled between your legs. 

Tonight you lose yourself in his eyes. His bucket hat is gone — probably because you are the one wearing it by the man’s explicit request. Mind you, that’s the only garment you have on. 

He’s so unpredictable, your lover.

Kisuke’s breath caresses your thighs as he finally raises his head, silvery gaze skittering all over your form until a hand of his comes to cup your breasts. The other one stays where it was before, three fingers buried in you with his thumb right above your little bundle of nerves.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Do you want to stop? Are you feeling hot? 

Here, let me help you.”

The slight pressure on your lower half disappears but before you can snap back at the lack of touch, puffs of fresh air glide over you and you sigh in relief the moment the man kisses your wet folds and his fan provides you a much needed break. 

The scenario in which you find yourself starring as the main character is always the same: you, sprawled on the futon you and Kisuke share while the man experiments on your body. Every day a new invention of his to test out, and you’re his most willing victim. 

It’s intoxicating, really, the realisation you feel every time: to be worthy of unrestrained passion, reverence even, from such a poised person as Urahara Kisuke is. 

Especially if your praises for his work, laced with strings of his name and soft pants, get to push him beyond his own limits.

Back to reality, you stare at the scene unfolding before you. It’s as if every frame of it is embedded in your eyelids, yet you can’t help but tilt your head to the side and spread your legs further, fingers sneaking down to press on either side of your lower lips for Kisuke to suck in a groan. The sound goes straight to your pussy, and he sees it when he stoops over it, humming in elation at your body’s reactions to each movement of his. 

Painfully so, because now the fan he’s been using to both pleasure and torment you for no one knows much clicks shut. A moan escapes you at that, and that’s when the man goes ballistic.

Needy are his hands once they’re on you again, his thrusts against the futon to relieve some of the strain in his pants are futile. They don't compare to your warmth. With that in mind, his voice breaks under his own appetite when he says, 

“Are you ready for me? I won’t hold back this time.”

You nod and under your lust-filled pupils, the white fan liquifies in the man’s hold once more, moulding itself into a shape you are very familiar with. Your tensed muscles relax instantly with Kisuke’s tongue flattened on your engorged bud, this time sparing it the attention of his newest invention. Of course he turned his beloved fan turned into a vibrator moulded after his own dick.

A little joke of yours that Kisuke made sure you will never forget, just to “remind you he can have your every hole at any time of the day just with a flick of his wrist.” 

Oh, and he has a portable cast of your pussy. For scientific purposes, by all means.

It’s only natural for a man of science like him, now, isn’t it?

✧. HIRAKO SHINJI — LINGERIE KINK

The man is too stunned to speak. A rare occurrence, since Hirako is well known for being pretty quick at giving others a piece of his mind. But with you, he’s perpetually at a loss of words.

You spin yourself around again, slower this time, to give him a full show of your naked self but for the lace set of bra and panties hugging your forms just right. Your lips curl in a teasing smile as you watch the blondie fall down in a spiral of despair. 

All because of the lingerie. It’s always been the biggest kink of his.

Alas, his eagerness to fuck you stupid in the expensive sets he buys for you never diminish its grip on him, on the contrary. 

Shinji can’t get enough to see you walking around the house wearing only a satin babydoll, a pair of black panties with little golden ribbons on the back. 

More, more.

“What do you think? Does it look good on me?”

His grin is feral and it follows the beckoning sign of his hand, motioning for you to come closer. Once you do, he’s quick to encircle your waist with his arms and bend his head towards your chest. The wetness of his tongue sends shivers down your spine and you arch your back against him for more. 

He notes it and chuckles, and with the most shit-eating grin he’s able to pull off right now with your tits in his mouth, he deadpans, “Not tonight.” 

And with that the man’s lips let go of your nipples, and you bite back a curse. If you complain, he’s going to prolong the moment and drive you more insane than usual. 

The moment he falls to his knees while leaving a trail of kisses on your navel, his hands explore the thin fabric around your waist. That alone should’ve been enough warning for you. Then he draws a loud moan out of your throat, and it’s too late.

Hazy eyes set on his as he places an open-mouthed kiss on your clothed pussy, sucking the wetness leaking through the lace loudly. He’s doing it on purpose.

Your fingers glide through his hair, a sigh escaping your parted lips as you do so. Its length reaches below his waist once again but you yank just at his roots to make him go faster. You feel his cock slap against your leg when he shifts position, tongue slipping through the garment while his nose hits your clit.

"Shin- Fuck."

Another sob of yours is all it takes for him to get on his feet, spin you around to bend you over the bed, roughly push aside the panties and ease himself in you in one go. His own pants mix with yours and it feels so good.

All because Shinji can’t get enough of the sensation of the lavish texture and your greedy walls brushing and hugging his cock.

✧. GRIMMJOW — PRIMAL SEX PLAY

The first time he saw you come undone around his fingers, with your pretty face scrunched in ecstasy and your inner walls sucking him in impossibly close, he made an oath to you and himself. 

He was ready to indulge every capricious whim of your heart as long as you were prepared to do the same with his. 

Except Grimmjow is prone to more… animalistic tendencies, per se. Nonetheless, you had agreed by pulling him closer for a messy kiss he accepted, digging his teeth into your lower lip when your nails sank into the flesh of his back.

After the agreement, you’d always play a little game, the two of you. No matter the circumstance, the one who eventually ends up on their back or stomach most of the time — be it against a wall or laid down on either a bed or the floor itself — is you.

Today is no different and a grunt crawls its way out of your lungs. 

Furious with yourself for losing again, you whip your head to the side and stare at your partner. Light blue orbs bore holes in yours as he bares his teeth at you and grunts, just to spite you, to which you reply by licking the sliver of his arm’s skin you can reach before biting the flesh. Blood spills from the tiny wound and Grimmjow straight out hisses now, his callous fingers forcefully running through your hair to keep you in place. “You fucking bit me, woman.”

Your knees, pressed on either side of his waist, quiver around him. But you don’t back off and reply with a heated, “What about it? You deserve it. 

You cheated today.” 

His whole body is caging you on the floor of his residence in the Hueco Mundo, and the coolness radiating from it balances out the heatwave engulfing your senses. He’s a breadth away from literally tearing all your clothes apart with his teeth. 

"You're just a sore loser who talks back too much for my liking. I'm faster and stronger than you. It's only natural for me to win, woman. Uhm, what should I do with you?" his smirk borders sadism when his dominant hand wraps around your throat. Not enough to cut the air out of you, but tight to the point where you throw your head back and pant.

The Arrancar has fucked you so many times using all of his antics that now nothing he does really scares you anymore, rather it riles you up. 

And seeing you so boundless turns him on in a split second. 

His hair kisses your body as the sound of fabric being torn apart buzzes in your ears. Your pants, shirt and underwear? Gone. Ripped to shreds by the Espada’s touch. 

Grimmjow is really destroying your wardrobe each time he’s in a hurry to fuck you, and you bite the expanse of flesh between his thumb and pointer finger on your throat in retaliation.

He stops in his tracks, and the look he pins you down with is positively murderous. 

“You tryin’ to make yourself bleed till morning?”

"What if I am? What are you going to do about it?" you challenge him with your eyes and buck your hips upward to meet his clothed ones halfway. His startled grunt persuades you to do it again. 

But this time his hold on you slides to your hips, and he anchors himself on them with his free hand while the one on your throat snakes down to palm himself through his pants. 

It doesn't take long for your jaw to go slack at the sight of the prominent outline of his erection and Grimmjow nips at the expanse of skin behind your ear before growling: 

“Want my cock so bad, woman? Take it, then”, his last piece of cloth rolls down to his knees, too impatient to take it off unlike his sash and jacket.

“Make me feel good, yeah?”

Eyes roll in the back of your head once you feel his tip prod at your entrance. He falls on the heavier side, and his generous girth fills you up to the brim in a moment.

Once he feels you relax a bit around him, his thrusts gain momentum and he drives himself so deep in you by grabbing you by the back of your thighs to shove them closer to your torso that tears roll down your cheeks without you noticing. Grimmjow kisses your cervix over and over again while his tongue licks clean your cheeks.

He adores how glassy your eyes turn whenever he's balls deep in you, how fragments of tears get stuck in your pretty eyelashes.

"Grimmjow." his names tumbles off your lips so naturally and he fights against his instincts, the urge to flip you on your back and claim you in the most primal position.

He feigns ignorance and sink his fingers further in your flesh. "What?"

"Come in me. I need to f-feel you."

Your fingers somehow wander on his body as you say so, and with whatever strength is left, your nails climb up his back to trace with unbridled fury the lines and curves of the number '6' tattooed on him. The man's grunts grow in volume and you respond with an elated laugh laced with wanting.

He looks down at you, and his lips clash against yours in a battle for dominance, a battle with no holds barred.

Despite being considered too raw for anyone else, Grimmjow has some tiny pieces of humanity left in him and as he slows down to hover over you and cum into your pulsing walls with a low groan — he refuses to do so elsewhere — his bites on your chin and short hums chanted against your neck while you clench around him are somewhat tender. 

Who says Espadas can’t be happy with humans?

© azanthys — do not copy, translate, repost and modify my works.

#bleach headcanons #bleach smut #urahara smut #urahara x you #urahara x reader #shinji hirako smut #shinji hirako x reader #grimmjow smut #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x reader #voice of cassandra

[intergalacticfop]

Minoan Kilt

The large, structural skirt worn by Minoan women in art is instantly recognizable, and when I made my own I combined current best guesses with my own personal tastes.

My kilt shape follows the hypothesis laid out by Bernice Jones in her book Ariadne's Threads: The Construction and Significance of Clothes in the Aegean Bronze Age. She describes the shape of that of a labrys, a double-headed axe with apparent ceremonial significance in Ancient Minoan culture. This garment may be depicted in Linear-B logogram *166 + we, we-being the backwards-s-shaped squiggle in the center which identifies the piece as a garment.

See pages 336 and 341 in Marie-Louise B. Nosch, The Textile Logograms in the Linear B Tablets

Actual details on construction and materials below the cut:

Construction:

The top and bottom edges of the kilt are concave, so the sides are longer than the middle. This gives the chevron-shape seen on layered kilts in art. In addition, the curved top half makes the skirt flare out, accommodating the hips and giving more freedom of movement to the legs. My kilt measured from my waist to my anklebone at the longest point, and about 1.5 times around my waist.

I chose to make a flounced kilt, with smaller strips of fabric and trim applied to a large base piece, rather than a tiered kilt, in which multiple kilt shapes of varying length are layered one on top of the other, so you end up wrangling 3 layers of fabric around the waist. The flounced kilt saves fabric and gives you a lot more freedom with whatever trim you might want. Jones' diagram for a flounced kilt is seen below:

Unlike the version in the diagram above, I chose not to attach ties to the garment itself both because the linen I used was very heavy and I was concerned about weight, and also because folding the skirt and securing it with a separate tie worked just fine for my tastes. In total I had four flounces: 2 alternating rows each of fabric and fringe.

The vertical edges of most kilts are left plain, probably representing either the selvage or an edge otherwise finished off to prevent fraying. For my kilt, however, I ended up with a couple inches of self-fringe on either side as I adjusted the fabric to the correct width. At least three examples of kilts with fringed vertical edges are known, all three from the so-called "House of the Ladies" in Akrotiri

Photos from Wikimedia Commons. Image 1. Image 2.

The vertical edges of these kilts are reinforced with a colored band or tape, probably to keep the garment from unintentional further fraying. Accordingly, I did the same on my kilt. I also like that it gave a nice vertical diagonal to counterbalance the horizontal ones.

Materials

I tried to use mainly linen and wool, the fibers most available on Ancient Crete, but some of my trim was cotton because sometimes you just have to use what's cheap and available in the today times.

The base of my kilt is a heavy, patterned linen in what's called a diaper weave, meaning that a repeating diamond pattern is woven into the pattern itself. A lot of the Minoan textiles depicted in frescoes are characterized by repeating geometric patterns, likely woven into the fabric itself, and that was something I wanted to capture in my own piece. My linen is woven with both cream and natural colored threads. The heavy weight is important to give structure to the garment--otherwise it would be kind of limp. My linen was from Burnley & Trowbridge (shameless plug), as was the plain cotton twill tape I used to bind the top and bottom edges of the kilt, and the dark red wool twill tape I used along the vertical edges.

I bought my cotton fringe from a rug supply store. I had to search a while to find a fringe that would work for me, and I ultimately chose fringes with a woven header rather than the more common knotted one, so that it would lay flat against the kilt. I hid the woven header under a layer of cotton fringed trim from Michaels (yes, Michaels) with this really great diamond and dots pattern woven in black.

The blue layers are from a bolt of vintage wool Kimono fabric. Blue appears frequently in frescoes, likely achieved with indigo or woad dye, or even murex/mollusk dye. The fabric is printed with an imitation ikat pattern of diamonds and squares that made me think "the vibes seem right!" because quite frankly, you aren't going to get "historically accurate" Minoan textiles (which there probably isn't enough archaeological evidence to definitively describe) without, like, hand-weaving it yourself or paying someone hundreds of dollars to do it for you (and that price is if the weaver really likes you). Neither of which appealed to my desire to just make a fun, low stress project. Good enough is good enough.

The narrow trim on the bottom of the blue flounces is vintage cotton/poly woven trim. This trim, while narrow, was quite thick and stiff, which was great because it added more weight and structure to the end of my flounces since the wool fabric itself was quite thin.

The top layer is a custom tablet-woven wool trim that I commissioned from MAHTAVAhandicraft on Etsy. I imagined this as the "centerpiece" of my kilt, and I'd arrange everything to complement it.

It's a kivrim pattern, which has itself only been traced to 19th-century Anatolia, but I didn't care. The way it looks like waves reminded me of how central the sea was to life in the Ancient Aegean and Mediterranean and it captured the idea and aesthetic I was pursuing. I mean, doesn't it remind you of these dolphins?

(I like the dolphins)

The whole thing was machine sewn with the exception of hemming and adding trim to the blue flounces. If you were to look at it from the back, you'd see lots of zigzag stitches, because i wanted to be fast! and have fun! not chase some unreachable ideal of "accurate."

As for wearing it, I chose to wear it with the top part folded/rolled down over a belt, so I have a thick tube of fabric around my waist. Many images, like the frescoes above of women with fringed kilts, appear to just show the kilt being tied closed. Other images are so fragmented or stylized that it's unclear what kind of skirt closure was used. Sculptures and figurines definitely show some kind of SOMETHING around the waist, whether this is folded fabric or a kind of belt is unclear. Different art could show different things!

I think I see evidence of a continuous line from the skirt to the waist-roll on the figure on the left, found in Troas, which I think indicates some kind of skirt-folding situation. The woman on the right, found in Crete, looks more like she's wearing some kind of long coiled belt, or perhaps snakes. Who knows? I don't! For my own part, I found the combination of rolled waist + tie belt the most secure for doing things like kneeling, stomping around, and wading into rivers to rescue bees. I also liked that it gave me the bulk around the hips that gives Minoan figurines such a powerful silhouette, and proportionally gives more of an hourglass shape. If you wanted to do something more firmly grounded in the sources, stick just with the waist tie or belt, wrapped around a couple times and tied in back. If you want to be like me, just say "well we don't KNOW it didn't happen" and just do whatever you want. Have fun! Whatever happens, it should be fairly easy to move around in the kilt--this is not a restrictive garment, just a heavy one.

#minoan #minoan crete #historical costuming #bronze age #reference #resources