ribbed leather

NO GREY (1/6) | MASTERLIST

Request: hello bb! Can I request an au where reader is on the dark side and Ben on the light side! Snoke is controlling reader and Ben tries to bring her back to the light side, ofcourse that isn’t easy because reader’s past is pretty complicated! ily + stay safe <3

A/N: @ben-solo requested this cool idea and had been talking about it with me for a while and I’m glad I can finally put up this mini-series! It’s a twist and it’s different from what I usually write and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did while writing it :) It’ll be about six parts long; feedback is welcomed, enjoy!

Warning: None

Word Count: 2.7K+


Rushing through the halls, long strides moving him swiftly to where he needed to be, Ben nearly barged through the main hall. Seeing dozens of padawans, Jedi Knight’s and the few Masters stand about, he aimed for the front. “The Jedi Killer is at it again.” Luke spoke up to the crowd, slight gasps leaving from the Padawans. “The five Padawan’s that went on the search for their Kyber crystals were the target.” Letting out a small breath, Luke looked down for a moment.

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Various Edged Weapons from Africa and Asia

An Indian Pesh-Kabz (25.5cm blade), ribbed horn hilt, leather scabbard with steel mount, two North African Dagger, three short stabbing spears, three wooden ceremonial axes, and various other native items, together with an Illustrated Catalogue of European Arms and Armour from the Wallace Collection, 1924.

anonymous asked:

dean jerking off in the backseat of the impala with his face pressed against the leather? yes? Yes. (his eyes squeezed tightly closed as he inhales the comforting smell of leather--the seat warm against his cheek, and god, he can almost hear her rumble--he grimaces as he wipes at the drool glistening on the leather afterwards)

Oh yes. Ohh, yes. 

A warm night and he’s parked at one of those ‘campsites’ that they advertise for like two hundred miles, but no one’s really camped at them for like ten years and no one notices if he pulls in at two in the morning, summer night drenched all around

and so he rolls the windows down, drinks a few beers, trying to settle down after torching that ghost back in Sedona, but–and he’d go to a bar, maybe pick up a chick, but there’s nothing around for miles and it’s too late for that–and anyway, here he is, with his baby, hundred of miles of driving ahead and who knows how many thousands behind, and he flops over into the backseat, since Sammy’s not around anymore to take up all the space–

but hell, he don’t have to think about that right now, does he, baby–just you and me, sweetheart, he says, and finishes the last of his beer in three long gulps, tosses the can out the open window over his head. The breeze is drifting in, smellin’ like old earth and the last rumble of exhaust from her big engine, and Dean–okay, so he’s a little horny, he can admit it. Been a while, just huntin’ and waitin’ for Dad to call, and–and maybe, hey, it’s not like his baby minds, does she, and no one’s around anywhere close, so he reaches over the front seat and turns her on again, big rumble of engine shuddering through the seat, pressed up right against his dick–and Fleetwood’s in the tape deck, that’s perfect, big old bassline purring through, and he flops down into the backseat again, belt off, shoves his pants all the way down and off, so he’s just there in his old Ozzy tour shirt and nothin’ else, skin sticking a little to her leather, spreading his knees wide and rolling his balls, face pressed up against the back of the seat, one foot down on the floorboards, feelin’ her purr under him, oh man, like Magic Fingers only better, because she’s his, through and through–aren’t you, baby, he says, lips moving against the seat, and he’s hard now, for real, and he goes slow, easy, ‘cos he can, out here, slicking up and down, teasing himself a little bit, humming along to the lyrics, a new day yesterday–oh man it feels good, don’t it, he rubs a lazy thumb through his slit and pulls on his balls a little, slowin’ himself down, but–oh, oh, it feels–and he flips over, after a while, hasn’t done this since he was a kid, but shit, he remembers, and he braces one foot against the door and one on the floor and drags his dick wet all over her seat, the ribs in the leather draggin’ really nice against him, oh man, yeah, yeah, and he puts his face down against the seat and just humps, hard and fast, one hand bracing himself against the other door so he won’t slip, oh god, baby, yeah, that’s it, come on sweetheart just like that–

and then, in the morning, he wakes up bareassed to the dawn, mouth sticky-dry and his shirt stuck to the seat and to his belly with come, and he’s drooled all over the leather and, okay, this is all pretty disgusting, but–he’s smiling as he cleans up, and his baby purrs to life all the same, so. Pretty good night, all in all. 

anonymous asked:

yeah but hélène tied up and gagged and making a very pretty addition to marya's study while she replies to the growing stack of letters. every now and then she gets a light kick in the ribs from a shined leather high heeled boot for whining, but mostly she's on her own as punishment. if there's anything marya doesn't like, it's when her doll gets too mouthy.

hélène is beneath the table and each touch is heavy yet far too light in a paradoxical state of tease, if she shifts too loudly in attempts to draw attention to herself marya can decide, in a split second, whether to punish her by a quick movement of the foot or, even worse, a head turned the other way. hélène hates that more than anything though, of course, she is in no place to complain. 

3

British Pattern 1796 Heavy Cavalry Officer’s Sword 

With fullered blade double-edged at the spear point and etched ‘J.J. Runkel, Sohlingen’ along the back at the forte, the forte along each side etched with martial trophies, crowned 'GR’ cypher and 'TP Hankin Royal Greys’, the etching retaining traces of original gilding, regulation steel hilt of ladder pattern pierced with symmetrical foliage, faceted rounded pommel and back-piece in one, and ribbed leather-covered grip (worn) bound with twisted silver wire, in original steel scabbard with two split-rings for suspension (hilt and scabbard with some light pitting). 86.9 cm blade.

Thomas Pate Hankin entered the Army in 1795 and served with the 2nd Dragoons (The Scots Greys) throughout his career. He took part in the famous charge at Waterloo where he was severely wounded in the knee. He was knighted by the Prince Regent in 1816 and promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel commanding the regiment in 1821. He subsequently died in 1825

marcjacquesburton: “Strength doesn’t reside in never having been broken, but in the courage to grow strong in the broken places.”
@zayn in the #MJB #Crixus jeans handpainted by designer @marcjacquesburtonpersonal

Exclusively hand painted for him. The only pair of jeans that can keep up with his journey to living his dream. The #Crixus jeans are the ultimate pair of jeans. Each pair undergoes a timely, hand distressing process giving them their unparalleled uniqueness. The signature weathered knee has only been hand distressed and destroyed on the surface and underneath lies an enduring ribbed leather padding. This is reflective of the man living his dream who has a thick underlying strength having withstood repeated setbacks on his journey. Hand made in Italy in extremely small quantities and handpainted by @marcjacquesburtonpersonal the designer in London. 

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