italian-shoes

Emil and Mickey at a buffet dinner

Emil: *Puts a fuck ton of pasta on plate*

Mickey: *sarcastically* are you sure that’ll be enough?

Emil: Well, I love Italian food.

Mickey: Oh really?

Emil: Yeah. You know. Italian food, Italian wine, Italian boys– err..shoes, I meant Italian shoes..

The Ethical Sugar Baby

Brilliant news – your Sugar Daddy wants to take you shopping for some new designer gear -but wait – how do you know which designers are ethical?

It’s a complete myth that every Sugar Baby dreams of owning a fur stole and python skin handbag; there are plenty of Sugar Babies that don’t support the fur trade or cosmetic testing on animals, many more are concerned about environmental factors and the issue of child sweat shops.

With this in mind this article will provide you with a list of cutting edge and luxury designers, who won’t put a blot on your conscious.

Clothes

Stella McCartney – A lifelong vegetarian, Stella McCartney doesn’t use any fur or leather in her designs.

Leanne Mai-ly Hilgart (Vaute Couture) – the former Ford Model’s brand Vaute Couture (the v stands for vegan!) aims to create high-end fashion that is vegan, created from recycled fibres and produced locally. The brand is favoured by the likes of Emily Deschanel and Alicia Silverstone.

Vivienne Westwood – Doesn’t use real fur in any of her designs.

Tommy Hilfiger – Stopped using real fur in 2007.

Calvin Klein – One of the early adopters of animal friendly designs, Calvin Klein has opted for fake fur since 1994.

Shrimps – The zany London brand uses bright colours and faux fur to create a bold statement. A coat will cost around £600

Huit - an ethical swimwear brand committed to transporting goods by sea rather than air thus reducing their carbon footprint. Celebrity fans include; Kate Moss, Keira Knightley and Sienna Miller.

Shoes

Olsenhaus – Brainchild of Elizabeth Olsen, Olsenhouse creates shoes that are animal product free. Shoes range from £100 - £250.

Beyond Skin – Brighton based company selling vegan footwear. There’s a wide range of styles available. Prices start from £80 – £250. Natalie Portman has also been spotted wearing them.

Noah – Italian vegan leather - sounds like a dream come true! Noah offers a range of hand-made Italian shoes that are 100% vegan. Prices start from £100 - £250.  

Cult of Coquette – Vegan shoes that are made out of the most environmentally friendly materials available. The brand states its handmade shoes are for women who aren’t afraid to rock a heel.

Bags

Stella McCartney – A lifelong vegetarian, Stella McCartney doesn’t use any fur or leather in her designs.

Matt & Nat – The name Matt & Nat stands for Mat(t)erial and Nature, which is the ethos of the company. Patrons of the brand include Charlize Theron and Natalie Portman.

Melie Bianco – An affordable, chic, animal friendly range of handbags for every occasion; think Balenciaga, Celine and Miu Miu styles, but without the cruelty.

Wilby – All products are animal friendly and the brand is well known for being eco, and environmentally friendly. Prices Range from £40 - £120.

Accessories

Mirabelle - Worn by the likes of Kate Middleton, Mirabelle makes handmade fair trade jewellery. Think pretty pendants at reasonable prices.

Helen Moore –brightly coloured, patterned and innovative designs. She creates faux-fur clutches, muffs, collars and scarves. One of these fun accessories will cost £40 - £150.

Polly Wales - Polly uses vintage and rough jewels to produce unique and imperfectly perfect rings, necklaces and earrings. Her designs use ethically sourced gems that shun the use of child labour in diamond mines.

Please be aware that this guide is not exhaustive and is subject to change at any time. If you’re in any doubt – it’s best to e-mail the customer services department of the brand you are interested in and ask for their policies and commitments to animal and human welfare.

I hope this guide was useful and you (or your Sugar Daddy!) can enjoy shopping for some ethical high-end luxury!

~ KittensPeach ~ x

chessala  asked:

Prompt: how about a yuuri that crushes on a Viktor he drew and then ends up meeting him ...ohohoho

wellwellwell you know that @forovnix, @exile-wrath, and i have been plotting out an au where yuuri writes kings in couture, so i’m going to tweak this a bit


Yuuri is beyond confused. 

He’d done nothing but pull back the shower curtain, and, well.

This is not the Detroit Skating Club locker rooms. 

Yuuri steps out into the darkened room, shivering as the cold air conditioning hits his shower-heated skin. He’s a little thankful that he’d at least put on a towel, though it’s the only thing he has on him and now his hair is dripping in his eyes. His bag of clothes is nowhere to be seen, which is unfortunate considering his glasses are in there. 

The room is a dark blur, so it comes as no surprise to Yuuri when he finds himself bumping into a rack full of clothing. As he gropes blindly around him, trying to reorient himself, Yuuri discovers that this rack isn’t the only one.

The entire room is full of them. 

After some careful stepping and feeling, Yuuri manages to find the wall. And then the light switch. And having some light in the room only makes things a tiny bit better by letting him at least see the blurred shapes of the gleaming silver racks and the clothing arranged by style, size, and colour hanging on them.

With some intense squinting and internal cursing at himself for not being able to focus precisely, Yuuri makes his way around the room to pick out an outfit. Some of these clothes look and feel like they’d cost him all of his sponsorship money to purchase, which sends a shiver down his spine. The pair of jeans he’d tossed on, for example, had tags that said they were from Calvin Klein. Whoever was in charge of this closet had expensive tastes, and was also apparently Yuuri’s size.

There’s a sudden sound from the door. Yuuri scrambles to hide himself, buttoning up the shirt he’d ‘borrowed’ and grabbing his towel as he dives behind one of the racks along the back wall. The door into the room swings open, and someone steps in.

There’s a pause. Yuuri’s heart pounds in his chest, echoes in his ears. He strains to listen, hearing the smart click of expensive-sounding shoes – probably Italian leather loafers – against the cold linoleum. He closes his eyes, trying to quiet his breathing, slow his heart. The footsteps stop. 

Yuuri’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s holding his breath. He looks up at the clothes he’s hiding behind, feels their softness on his cheeks. The other person in the room heaves a sigh. 

“Is someone in here?” they ask. Yuuri feels a chill run down his spine. That voice is too familiar – light, with a faint Russian accent. Pleasant. Charming. He’d listened to all its interviews and talk shows. Fallen asleep at night to its pleasant hum, imagining its speaker’s breath tickling at his ears.

That’s Viktor Nikiforov’s voice.

Yuuri’s heart seizes tightly in his chest.

“I know someone has to be in here. The light’s usually off.” Viktor’s voice seems to be getting louder. There’s no way that voice belongs to Viktor Nikiforov, though. Because Viktor Nikiforov is in Saint Petersburg, not Detroit, or wherever this closet is. “You don’t need to hide yourself, you know. The interns borrow date clothes from this closet all the time.”

Yuuri says nothing. Maybe Viktor will just assume an intern forgot to turn off the light on their way out, and leave. Whoever those interns are. Are there rink interns in Russia?

The footsteps begin again, getting louder and louder. Yuuri bites down on his tongue, tries to hold his breath further. But the shoes are now too close. They’re right in front of him. They’re definitely patent Italian leather.

A hand reaches out, and the next thing Yuuri realises, he’s being pulled out into the light once more, blinking brightness out of his eyes in time to see the very puzzled expression of Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri gapes. 

“Viktor?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

Viktor’s eyebrows furrow. “I could ask the same of you, Mr –”

“Katuski.” 

“Yes.” Viktor’s tone is clipped, polite. “How did you gain access to this office?”

“A-Access?” echoes Yuuri. “I just came out – I stepped – where are we?”

Viktor stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “You’re in the offices of of History Maker Couture. Now, do I need to call security?”

The room spins, suddenly. History Maker Couture. Oh no.

And that’s the last thing Yuuri thinks about before everything goes dark.

Creepypasta #1040: The Anglerfish

Length: Long

I am beautiful in ways men shouldn’t be.

Pretty boy, lovely boy, with his flaxen curls framing a sweet face and big blue eyes with big black lashes. My mother, when she was in our run-down trailer and not at the bar, would say such looks were wasted on a boy and that she wished I was born a girl. I’m certain she wished I had never been born at all.

School was hellish from the start. Girls viewed me as a living doll to play dress-up with, and boys hated me because I made them confused. My third grade teacher once made a comment about my cherry red mouth, the gym coach complimented my porcelain skin. The computer teacher got fired after cornering me alone. I did not understand it – I wore run down charity store clothes, spent most of my time with my nose buried in a book, and barely brushed my hair. And yet, here was the whole school bearing down on me.

Puberty made it worse. All my classmates grew and stretched, flushed with hormones and lust. I grew some, yet no straggly hairs or bright red pimples popped on my china doll face. Instead, the star quarterback would torment me so he could grope at my long legs and graceful hips. My teachers would compliment my academic achievements and then mention that someone like me being so aloof was a shame. The theater teacher asked if I was “interested in boys” in hushed, hopeful whispers.

I was not gay or straight. I was Uninterested. Why would I waste time chasing after shallow and petty girls who were jealous of my appearance? Why would I let one of those testosterone-hopped jocks paw at my body and call me a faggot afterwards? Why would I want my fat, balding English teacher to bend me over for an easy A? They called me frigid, uptight, bitchy, rude, prudish. I wore it with pride all the way to the top of my class.

I left my little Midwest town for a college in the big city. I thought it would be easier there, full of beautiful people to blend into. Towards the end of November, my roommate tried to roofie my water bottle, and the double room became a single room very quickly. For sophomore year, I got a studio apartment on my own.

That fall quarter was beautiful, the trees like brilliant fire throughout campus, and I took a communications class required for my major. It was about giving presentations and speeches, and the school website said Professor O'Malley was to teach it – classmates had described him as a jolly old man, a little longwinded but excellent at teaching discourse and rhetoric.

I sat towards the front, my empty notebook neatly dated, and my classmates chattered all around me. I paid them no heed, eyes casted downwards, but I looked up when the door to the lecture hall opened right before class was to begin. The man who strode in was not Professor O'Malley.

He burnt white hot, reality dimming around his gravity. Everyone seemed so tarnished compared to him, dark-haired bronze-skinned Adonis among the gray and listless dead. Square-jawed and towering, his presence was so thick it was sweltering, smothering, suffocating. My classmates all gasped as his eyes swept across the class.

Keep reading

A well tailored suit, plus a nice shirt, cufflinks (men, it really isn’t that hard to put on a shirt with french cuffs and cuff links, and it adds a nice touch), and a pair of handmade Italian leather shoes. I prefer Italian suits (Brioni, Canali, Zegna) but you don’t have to spend a lot of money, just get something that fits you well, with clean and classic lines. And learn to tie a proper windsor knot.

You expect your lady to wear beautiful lingerie, take pride in your own appearance too.

Impressed? || c.h

aha ty bb xx

I M A G I N E 

“Y/N, this way!”

“Over here,Y/N!”

“Smile for me, baby!”

Shouts from the paparazzi came from every which way as you posed for the cameras. Flashes of bright lights practically blinded you as you held your hip with one hand and had the other dropped to your side. Those money-thirsty cameramen were yearning for your best angles as you kept walked the carpet alongside other celebrities. 

Your body was hugged with expense garments from designers with unpronounceable names. Jewelry of high gold  carats hung loosely on your body as they made sound every motion you took. Your hair and makeup was done within 4 hours to show you off to perfection. 

Being famous was very interesting for a few reasons. One being that you’ve never had so much attention before. Invasion of space was never a thing for an introvert like yourself. Because of this led to the other reason of your friends actually wanting you more. Being all rich and famous made you appealing, which made your friends want you around all the time. Especially for their Snapchat and Instagram stories. 

Another reason was being famous with people you used to go to school with. 

“Y/N?” You heard an Australian voice as you entered into the large theater. There were less paparazzi inside, but your guards were still at your tail. You turn a bit to see Calum Hood in your presence. Your old high school crush. 

“C-Calum?” You said quietly, watching as he detached himself from the rest of his lads to speak with you. He looked much more handsome than you recalled when the both of you attended school. He was wearing a lovely grey suit that made him look way too sexy for his own good. His dress shirt was a much lighter grey, complimented with a navy blue tie. Your eyes dropped down a little to see his fancy brown and Italian shoes protecting his feet nicely. 

“Like (your high school) Y/N?” Calum asked, his almond eyes wide and full of surprise. You nodded, feeling blood rush up to your cheeks as Calum dug his hands into his pockets. “Holy shit, it’s been so long!” 

“Uh yeah, it has,” you say shyly, holding onto your Prada purse tightly. The last time you saw the boy was in the middle of your last year in high school. He and his mates apparently were in a band and actually got noticed by Louis Tomlinson. That very last day, you pulled Calum aside when he was finally alone and confessed your feelings 

It was the most heartbreaking rejection you’ve ever felt. 

“You look… wow,” Calum breathed, eyeing you blatantly as you blushed even more. You admit that you developed pretty well since your high school years. Being the shy girl that nobody knew was easy, as you barely did a thing to impress. Glasses complimented by braces and shaggy clothing was your daily lifestyle. Nobody expected you to be a gifted singer. “S-sorry,” Calum realized, locking eyes with you once more as you blushed. 

“It’s alright, I don’t believe it either,” you admit, giggling nervously as you patted down your outfit. “I assume you’re performing, yeah?” You asked, watching as he nods his head. He quickly gave you a cheeky smile, making your heart stop in a snap. 

“How about you, Y/N? Are you someone’s guest?” Calum asked, feeling a little hurt. “You certainly don’t look like anybody’s guest in that outfit.”

“I’m actually performing, too,” you say quietly, having Calum look surprised once more. You smile shyly at him as you tucked a bit of your hair behind your ear. “I’m a solo artist.”

“Y-you are?” Calum asked, still shocked about it. 

“I actually won 2 Grammy’s,” you giggle, thinking fondly about your achievements. 

“What?” Calum was still astonished, staring at your wistfully as you smiled awkwardly at the ground. 

“Impressed?” You mumbled, feeling a bit of confidence strike you from speaking about your achievements. Calum nodded vigorously as he shrugged a bit. 

“Hey, uh,” Calum began, clearing his throat a bit before continuing. “You really do look fantastic tonight. You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you took the compliment quietly, still blushing from Calum’s kindness. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Though this isn’t very ‘punkrock’ of you.” 

“Watch my performance and you’ll see how punkrock I am!” Calum exclaimed, making you giggle. Calum looked at you with awe, feeling a sense of comfort from your shear laughter. This was a much different stare from the day you confessed to him. He held a gaze of pure horror until it turned into sorrow when he rejected you. Which was fair, considering he was going on tour and all. 

You never expected to see him again, so you confessed right then and there. 

“I’m excited for it,” you assured him, giving him a more confident smile. The two of you stared at each other for a bit before the workers of the award show insisting that you guys kept moving down the carpet. “Where are you sitting by the way?”

“Like the center-middle of the place,” Calum said. “How about you?” 

“Center-front,” you hummed, seeing Calum frown a bit. He then took out his phone and unlocked it. 

“Give me your number,” Calum said, taking you a bit by shock. You took out your phone while telling him your digits. You watched as he tapped in the number and put your name as the contact. “Just so we can text during the show. Because I know I’m gonna get bored.” 

“Aha, ditto,” you agree with a smile. Calum smiled at you until one of your guards informed you that you were parting ways. 

“Your queue?” Calum asked. 

“Mhm,” you nod disappointingly. Suddenly, Calum went up and gave you a light squeeze. Being in his arms felt so unfamiliar, but so comforting and safe. You never thought you’d ever hug him. But now, in his arms, anything really can happen. 

“See you around,” Calum said as he detached and gave you a wink. 

“B-bye,” you said quietly, waving him goodbye as you watched his disappearing silhouette. As you walked where you were guided, you immediately recieved a call from an anonymous number. 

“Hello?” You answered, holding the phone to your ear. 

“Hey beautiful,” Calum’s voice rang through the phone, making you blush once more without being in the flesh. 

Always & Forever (One Shot)

 Summary: It’s your 6th wedding anniversary and Bucky wants to surprise you with something special. Only problem is, he’s absolutely clueless. Time to call in the Cavalry!

Warnings: NONE

A/N: This is my first one shot. I’m truly a sap for Bucky Barnes and romance. Happy reading!!!

7 years. That’s how long you and James Buchanan Barnes have been together. 2 years dating and 5 years married. No one knew the impact [Y/N] had on the brooding super soldier. She managed to creep inside his scrambled mind, knock out the darkness and replace it with happiness, self-worth, and unyielding love fierce as a lion and gentle as a lamb. That’s why Bucky knew your upcoming anniversary had to be nothing short of amazing!!!

However, one MAJOR obstacle stood between him and the coveted “Husband of the Year” award…….James Buchanan Barnes didn’t know diddly-squat about planning an anniversary shindig!! Sure picking out flowers and candy were easy, along with ordering pizza or going out to dinner at ‘The Cre8tion Station’, a quaint little bistro [Y/N] loved, specializing in mouthwatering sushi, a vast array of soup and delicious chicken salad.  

But your wedding anniversary wasn’t some mediocre occasion and everything had to be on a grander scale. Bucky wanted to have the dinner on the Tower’s rooftop!! In order to make this elegant evening come to life, he enlisted the help of some real heavy hitters; Pepper for her event planning expertise. She knew the best decorators, florists and caterers in the world! Nat and Wanda volunteered for shopping duty. They knew [Y/N’s] taste in clothing and Bucky trusted their flair for fashion.

Let’s not forget Daddy Warbucks himself, Anthony Edward Stark. His fondness for her meant nothing was too expensive. That made Nat and Wanda simply giddy because running amuck in New York with limitless credit was every woman’s dream.

[Y/N], Steve, Scott, Thor and Rhodey were on a 5 day mission, scheduled to return on Friday. This afforded Pepper, Nat, Wanda, and Tony time to plan without interference. It would be a total surprise!!! Tears pooled in Bucky’s azure blue-grey eyes simply thinking about your wedding anniversary. Never in a million years could he have dreamt love would overtake the demons in his mind and ground him. He loved [Y/N] with every fiber of his being and wanted nothing short of perfection to make this night memorable!!!


*******************

By the time Wednesday rolled around, ‘Operation Anniversary Surprise’ was in full effect. Bucky checked the weather forecast for the 100th time. Nat and Wanda’s tasks were complete. [Y/N’s] dress was stunning; a charcoal grey Kaufman Franco Studded Sleeveless V-Neck Cocktail dress, paired with black stiletto’s to accentuate [Y/N]’s long legs. Although Bucky wanted to see her dress, Nat and Wanda forbid him from peeking until Friday.

********************

Bucky and Tony visited “DuBose & Son Atelier.” Francois chose a Charcoal grey fitted suit, deep purple tie and pocket square. He said it brought out Bucky’s blue eyes. “Monsieur Barnes, c’est magnifique and might I add, no outfit is complete without a pair of black shoes.”

Tony pointed to a pair of black Hugo Boss Italian Leather shoes. “Excellent choice Monsieur Stark.” Bucky stepped out of the fitting room. Tony and Francois were absolutely floored. “I gotta admit Buckaroo, you look dashing. Not as handsome as I am, but it’s a close fifth.”

Turning his gaze towards the full length mirror, Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes. Gone were the shadows that outlined his scarred body; gone were the voices that ran rampant through his thoughts.

“Hmmm, not bad Barnes,” he mumbled.

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I Bet It Stung (M)

Originally posted by jackandjael

Genre: Smut/Angst

Summary: When there’s sexual tension between you and your potential boyfriend, You come up with a reckless plan to deter an awkward hookup. Finding a fuck buddy. The thing about reckless plans though, they’re bound to backfire badly. Hopefully you can come back from this. (Mark x Reader, Bambam x Reader )

Warnings: Piercings , Boys who Dab, Underage alcohol use

Word count: 9,684

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

A/N: Here’s some Mark and Bambam (No dabbing, sadly)  smut and drama. This was fun to write. The title is  a song from Tegan and Sara’s So Jealous album. I  listened to it on repeat while doing this, give it a try if you like breakup music. I hope you guys enjoy it :’)

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Revelation: Part 2

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, Tony being an all round good guy

A/N: A part 2 was requested! Unfortunately, I’ll be leaving this fic/request here, as I am going to explore this storyline as part of a fic series in the future.

I really feel good about this fic, maybe it’s because I finished writing this at 5am and I’m super tired, but I’m really proud of this

Part 1

Your bare feet slap against the cold tiles as you move from the kitchen to the balcony, a cup of steaming tea in your hands. The weather was starting to warm up, so you decide to drag a blanket onto the balcony and watch the sunrise. With all the New York City traffic bustling hundreds of meters below you, it was louder on the balcony than it was inside. You spent a lot of your time on the balcony, just looking out over the city and trying to lose yourself in imagining what it was like to be normal. At first, the silence and seclusion had been nice, but it quickly led to days of overthinking and moments of insanity.

You’d been living in the Stark Tower for 2 weeks, you had never really asked Tony’s permission, but he hadn’t told you to leave yet. You were planning on finding your own place, but you weren’t in the right mind set to start looking for apartments at the moment. You were still an emotional mess from finding out the truth about your parents’ deaths.

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Head Over Heels (M)

Originally posted by jonginization


Genre:
Smut (w/ fluff ending)

Summary:  Being a broke college student wasn’t fun.You needed to indulge in the finer things sometimes.You wanted those heels, and if it meant making Daddy Kai happy, you couldn’t say no.

Warnings:
Breath play, slight bondage and gagging

Word Count:
2,434

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

A/N: Hello there! I’m Smutty Jaefairy and this is my first story on the blog! I hope you enjoy it  c:

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