slit-skirts

i commissioned this piece from the kind and talented @mesknoxx as a companion to chapter four of my fluffy season three fix it fic – we don’t talk very much (we just fake being nice) – in which clarke and lexa attend an azgeda coronation ball. this is the artist’s rendering of the dresses they wore.

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Born on this day: May 19, 1945 - Singer, songwriter and musician Pete Townshend (born Peter Dennis Blandford Townshend in Chiswick, London, UK. Happy 72nd Birthday, Pete!!

A Little Too Long

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Nothing??

It’s been almost a year since you’ve been on a date. When Steve offers to take you out just to make you feel better, you don’t realize just what this might stir up for the two of you.

A/N: I wrote this for @rileyloves5 as she needs some cheering up, and Steve fluff is always a guarantee.


“I need some good places for tonight.” Buck looks up from his phone as he comes into the living room where you and the team are strewn about, playing on your phones, reading the paper, watching a random TV movie. You’re in one of the chairs legs over the armrest, back against the other.

“Depends what do you have in mind.” Tony looks up from his paper.

“I think I want to, you know, woo her.” Buck shrugs.

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Red Hot

PAIRING- reader x Bucky Barnes 

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNINGS: SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX (keep it wrapped guys) and Swearing (are you surprised by now through?)

Request from Anon -Can I request a Bucky Barnes imagine? The reader & Natasha having to go undercover? & the reader has to wear something revealing making Bucky overprotective? Smut or dirty talk? ❤️ (Reader & Bucky date)

So I went in with the intention of writing only light smut (just oral) but then somewhere along there it turned into full on Smut, soooooo what can ya do *shrugs* but its my first Bucky Smut yay! Enjoy x 

GIF NOT MINE

Originally posted by acciowintershield


“Ok what about this one?”

You stepped out of your walk in wardrobe pulling at the dress until it was sitting comfortable on your body. Natasha was sitting on your bed an array of dresses sat around her as she looked up from the magazine she was flicking through. She tilted her head as you walked over barefoot to your full-length mirror.

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2

newest project!! the top is a wrap top (it’s not done at all lol i just pinned it on my dress form for the pics) and i’m going to add high slits to the skirt 💕💞💓

2

Pens and paintbrushes http://archiveofourown.org/users/Erikapell/works
****

It was late and he knew he should be home, he knew he had work at the publishing office early tommorow morning, but Jughead Jones was not one to do what was expected of him, especially not when he had the worst case of writers block he had ever come across.

He was staring blankly at the open poppy field in front of him, New York City was definitely nothing like Riverdale, the pushing and the yelling and the overpopulated streets, so when he came across this hidden gem he had been eternally grateful for the tiny bit of peace and serenity it provided.

Archie snored loudly from the back of the beat up pick up truck Jughead was currently perched on top of, He smiled at his obnoxious best friend and went back to scribbling in his notebook. Jughead needed inspiration, he was at a standstill with his novel and Archie was happy to tag along, happy to be away from the studio for a bit, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes open for longer than an hour. Archie was an up and coming musician and he worked tirelessly to get his music heard, something Jughead had always admired about his best friend.

His eyes were fairly close to glazing over themselves as he watched the orange and purple sunset dip lower behind the hills.

“Betty! Please, these are givenchi! I’m going to get Pollen all over my new cape!”

Jughead eyes snapped open at the sound of a very agitated female voice, squinting into the distance he saw what had the dark haired girl so up in arms.

Honey blonde hair and long tans legs peeking out of a long flower white maxi skirt, slit up the side and blowing behind her as she pulled what he assumed was her friend through the flowers

“I’m gonna miss it Ronnie, I just found the perfect color for the sky and I’m gonna miss it if we don’t hustle! Move that Pilates sculpted booty!” She giggled, her hands gripping a variety of colored pencils and a thick white sketchbook.

Jughead couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blonde, her midriff was bare and toned underneath the loser white crop top as she made her way towards him, her eyes were looking directly past him at the sunset in the distance and he could make out bright hazel green irises. Apparently all the commotion woke sleeping beauty from his slumber and Archie crawled towards the roof of the car, setting his eyes on the approaching girls.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me there’d be chicks, look at the dark haired one.” Archie rubbed his eyes sleepily, leaning forward to get a better look.

Suddenly the two girls were directly in front of the dark green pick up truck and The blonde was climbing on top of it.

“Elizabeth!” The raven haired girl shouted, her eyes wide and appalled.

She continued to climb
“I’m so sorry, but I really need this view, I’m so sorry!”

She pushed past Archie and dropped beside Jughead, ripping the sketchbook open and immediately sketching the sight before her.

“I am so sorry about her. She’s an artist, I’m sure you know how temperamental they are. It’s the heat I think, it’s gotten to her, made her forget her manners.” Her friend stated pointedly, her hands on her hips as she shook her head.

Jughead was speechless, this absolute enigma of a girl was seated beside him, her thigh pressed against his as she effortlessly drew the most beautiful piece of work he had ever seen, he watched her draw strokes on the paper, the colors perfectly matching the scenery in front of them. He vaguely heard Archie helping the dark haired girl into the bed of the truck, when the beauty in question glanced up , placing her pencil down and sighing relived, apologetic eyes meeting his captured ones.

“I really am so sorry, it’s just the sunset moves so quickly ya know, I haven’t been able to capture it all week. And this is perfect.”

Jughead shook his head
“I get it, don’t worry about it. You can climb my truck anytime.” He smiled at the light blush that rose to her cheeks. She stuck her hand out

“I’m Betty Cooper, it’s nice to meet you.”

Betty Cooper?! His jaw visibly dropped as he stared blatantly. Betty Cooper was one of the most well known young artists in all of NewYork, her work was hung in the some of the best galleries in the cities. People begged for her work, she chose to remain anonymous in the sense of face to face. The only thing people knew of Betty Cooper was her and name and her talent.

From behind him he heard a giggle
“That’s not usually the reaction she gets.”

He looked over and The pearl wearing girl was perched on Archie’s lap

“I’m Veronica Lodge. And yes I am the world famous fashion designer, no need to drop your draw twice James Dean.”

Jughead raised a brow, he had never heard of her but from the looks of her he could tell she wasn’t lying.

“She’s very proud of her work.” Betty giggled from beside him, he could tell that the quiet blonde didn’t share the same outgoing personality as her friend, but from the soft way she smiled at Veronica it was clear they were very close.

“I’m Jughead Jones. Definitely not as accomplished as you but Jughead Jones nonetheless.” He gripped her hand, holding it for a second longer than necessary. His stomach flip flopping at the unfamiliar feeling, something in her eyes shifted and he knew she was feeling the same thing.

“He will be famous though, he’s writing a book and it’s really good, his publisher is just waiting for it to be finished.” Archie said from below, his arm slung lazily around Veronica’s waist as he whispered in her ear.

“You write!” Betty smiled, her hand moving to grip his arm as she looked at him excitedly.

Jughead blushed rose petal pink, and nodded shyly

“Something like that.”

“Id love to read your work some time.” She was so soft and gentle, Jughead wasn’t accustomed to this type of woman, growing up on the Southside of Riverdale, girls were bitter and angry, moving to New York he hadn’t been interested in finding anyone, but with her soft hand around his forearm and her long blonde hair brushing his cheek.. well maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He shook his head quickly, like she would be interested in somelike you, her a grip Jughead, His mothers nasal sharp voice echoed in his head.

“Well lover boys, we better get going. I have a meeting in Paris tommorow morning and then I’m back here by lunch.” Veronica shrugged, daintily stepping off the bed of the truck as Archie helped her down.

Betty rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Jughead as he laughed quietly, his hands wrapped around her waist and he carefully dropped her in front of him, her feet on solid ground, she stared up at him.

“Id like to see you again Jughead Jones.” She whispered.

Jughead swallowed heavily, his eyes boring into hers

“Id like that Betty Cooper”

She pulled her sketch pad out and scribbled her number down on torn piece of paper. Handing it to him she threw him a final glance and followed Veronica towards the trail.

Jughead watched her retreating back his fingers clutching the number in his hand, Archie came to stand beside him, holding his palm open

“Dude! You got her number too? Awesome! Veronica wrote hers in lipstick so I can’t really close my hand until I can find my phone…” Archie rambled on and Jughead smiled staring down at the piece of paper.

Jughead Jones life was about to become a whole lot different.

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The Secretary Organza Blouse and Side Slit Pencil Skirt. (at L'ecole des Femmes)

Made with Instagram

Tweed 

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Female Reader   

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I am bored and not ready to dive into my next fic. Thinking of adding a Saturday- Smut Shorts to my posting rotation “Smuturday”? Comment or send an ask if you would be interested in the concept.


It was the damned vest. There were some guys that got your attention because of their cologne. There were others that turned you on because they were so good with kids. You had grown resistant to your gorgeous coworkers over time. But when Spencer wore that goddamned vest, you had to excuse yourself to splash cold water on your face. It was that hot and distracting. You imagined the texture of the material, the professorial implications.

He could just wear the vest and your daydreams would be set for an entire case. The way his hair had grown and fell on to the dark material. The edges clinging to the seams, made you think about reaching up and brushing the gentle curls over, to expose his neck. Which of course the vest accented perfectly.


She was wearing the pencil skirt again. She left the matching jacket off, leaving her sleek arms bare for the humid Georgia afternoon. Spencer couldn’t concentrate when she hiked up the sides of the garment, to climb into the SUV. She had such timeless style, always professional but just a little more academic than the other women he worked with.

Spencer was scratching his neck, imagining it was her pointed nails dragging over his skin. He was not used to noticing physical attributes of people besides in a case perspective: victimology, suspect descriptions or mathematical relevant features. But when she wore that skirt with the coarse threaded fabric, he paid attention.


You had stopped for lunch after interviewing a victim’s family. It was a small diner on the outskirts of the town where you were partnering with the local sheriff’s department. You and Reid were finishing up your meal when he leaned over to reach for the check. He had turned just so that the material of the vest brushed against your arm. It scratched in such an unexpected way that you gasped. 

His dark eyes caught yours and he nodded at you. Your breath hitched, you couldn’t help but lick your lips at his hold on you. You slowly got up from the booth, walking to the bathroom in the back of the paneling covered restaurant. Spencer left everything he had in his wallet on the table and slowly followed your swaying hips.

Once you both were in the unisex cubby, you spun, attacking his mouth. Your hands clenched at the stiff fabric framing his chest, pulling him to you. His large hands found the slit of your skirt, dragging the rough fabric over your smooth thighs. He moaned once you backed onto the rail on the wall, taking his belt with your progress. He pressed his whole body against yours. He continued bending your knees as you found you could reach the opposite wall with your heels.

His fingers slid into the deep wetness of your panties, guiding the thin material over. You whined at the hunger that was growing within you. “Spencer, please.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at you, “Yes, ma’am.” He winked and suddenly his cock was pressed against your entrance.  You leaned into him, your shoulders arching against the thin walls of the stall. Your skirt’s fabric burned against your thighs and Spencer’s stomach. He braced himself against one wall, just above your head. Your fist clung to his vest along his collar bone.

The moans came without you realizing, the slapping of skin an increasing rhythm. “Fuck, you just had to, had to wear that damn vest today didn’t you?” You whispered, your voice falsetto with the rush of your climax. You glimpsed Spencer’s concentrated face crumble through your lidded eyes. He called out, thrusting as he clawed at the edges of your skirt, the thread finally giving out to the stress on the slit.

He guided your shaking legs down, as you used his arms as an anchor. He held you as if you were slow dancing. You slowly eased your skirt down, checking for damages. He fixed his trousers, bending to grab his discarded belt. “Y/N, please tell me you have another skirt like that.” His breathing slowly evening out.

“Don’t worry, Spencer, there are plenty more where this came from.”

@cherry-loves-fanfic @dontshootmespence @hotchnerfuckmeup @reidsexualwriting @reidoneshots @reiding-and-writing

Working Hard

`by: mldrgrl
Rated: NC-17
Summary: Hanella attempts to spice things up a bit by playing a game.

Hank watched from the bed as Stella walked around the room collecting items for her suitcase.  Her blouse was open and her hair was still wet and coiled in a towel on her head.  Her breasts jiggled softly as she bent and struggled with the zipper of her make-up bag.  Her bra was slate-grey, satin, and he knew from personal experience, had a soft lining inside the cups.  Even half-dressed and packing a bag, she was ridiculously enticing.

“Have you ever had to work for it?” Hank asked.

“Work for what?” she asked.

“At seduction.”

One of her eyebrows arched higher as she began to button her blouse.  Hank pushed himself up from his reclining position and slid to the edge of the bed.  She moved closer to him and stood between his knees as she closed the last button.  He took her hand when she lowered her arm and turned her wrist up.  He closed the button on her right cuff and then her left.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”  He ran his thumb over the center of her palm and looked up at her.

“Have you ever had to work for it?” she asked.

“I’ve always been more of the pursued and not the pursuer.  Has anyone ever turned you down?”

“Of course.”

“Really?”

Stella moved away and unwound the towel from her head.  She shook her hair free and closed the door to the bathroom behind her.  A few moments later, Hank heard the hairdryer and he poked at the contents of Stella’s bag.  He took her perfume out of the make-up case and took the cap off.  The scent of it was too vague, so he sprayed a bit on her pillow and then leaned over, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply.

It was almost terrifying how bewitched he felt sometimes.  He couldn’t imagine anyone ever saying no to Stella.  He’d wanted her from the moment she sat down across from him in that hotel and he’d never stopped.  Just the smell of her or the sway of her hips or the timbre of her voice at the end of a long day or the slash of bare skin in the slit of her skirt got him so hard.  God, he was a melancholy fuck when she was going out of town.

The whirr of the blowdryer went silent and a few minutes later, Stella came out of the bathroom.  The way she put herself together never failed to amaze him, but he found her just as beautiful with messy hair and no make-up.  She caught him watching her as she closed her suitcase and she stepped back between his legs.  His hands were to her hips and she rested her forearms on his shoulders.

“Men don’t require much persuasion,” she said, fingers dancing across his nape to slide into the hair on the back of his head.  “You certainly didn’t.”

“Well, I was a bit of a slut.”

“All it took was a suggestion and…”  She snapped her fingers behind his head.

“What if I’d turned you down?”

“I’d have walked away.”

“Just like that?”

“No means no, Hank.”

“So, what if I’d said maybe?”

“Depends on whether or not I found you worthy of the effort.”

“Then you have had to work for it before.”

Stella smoothed her hand back over Hank’s head, petting him like the loyal dog he was.  “I said that men don’t require much persuasion,” she said.  “Women like more than mere suggestion.”

“Do they?”  Hank slid his hands down from her hips to her backside.

“Some women like being seduced.”

“And some just take what they want,” he answered, squeezing her ass hard enough that she pulled on his hair.

“Don’t wrinkle me,” she said, rolling her hips slightly.  “The car will be here any minute.”

“Do I get to kiss you goodbye, or will I smudge you?”

“Hold still,” she answered, pulling his hair to tip his head back.  She swept her tongue across his mouth before brushing her lips against his in the lightest of kisses.

“Just two nights, right?” he asked.

“I’ll call.”

*****

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Baby Genius

Grouping: Reader x Namjoon

Word Count: 2.3k. slice of life? porn? porn of life? lmao

Summary: In which you’re very smart and namjoon has a tiny garterbelt fetish

a/n: guess who’s been drinking again????? guess who’s birthday it is?? namjoooon! yikes this isn’t edited sorrryyi tried to bang this out in one take im sorry ok classes were rough and i like wine


Your feet are killing you from standing for almost 2 hours in heels, but the feeling of accomplishment you’re experiencing is more than enough to distract you from the pain.

I did it, you think to yourself, I defended my physics dissertation. It’s true. You did do it. Months of research and writing and editing and rewriting all amounted to the talk you gave this evening in front of the most esteemed faculty of your university. You get hit with a rush of endorphins and barely register the sound of Namjoon opening the door to his apartment in front of you. You trail behind him as he enters and stay back to lean on the door after it closes. 

A crazed giggle bubbles out of your mouth as you realize you can finally breathe. You don’t have to pull any more all-nighters, eyes burning red as you pore over dense academic texts and piles of data. You can finally have leisurely days and sip a glass of wine before bed. You can go out on dates with your boyfriend again. Hell, you can read a novel. Or go to bed early. The possibilities are endless.

You sigh happily as you remove the cardigan you wore over your little black dress and move into the living room to find Namjoon undoing his tie in front of the window. Pulling your brastraps through the arm holes of your dress, you discard your bra on a near chair and walk over to him.

“Hey,” you whisper once you’re standing next to him, “I’m done with my dissertation.”

“I know. I’m so proud of you. You were great up there.” 

He smiles down at you and you realize how much you missed seeing him without stress and sleep deprivation ruining the moment. When he steps behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, you let yourself fall back against him immediately. 

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26. Dress Up

Happy Birthday, Bucky!

Word Count: 462.
A/N: This is based on prompt 26, dressing up. In the US, soldiers in the Army have Dress Greens, and I got to thinking about this. I also can see Tony giving Bucky hell for running late/ skipping parties, and that’s where this came from. Needless to say, this is smut
Written by: @dragonsrequiem

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

A hot, calloused hand wrapped around your waist in the elevator as a husky voice purred in your ear. “Babe, honestly I think if we skip the party no one will notice…” he tried in a hopeful tone before nibbling on the shell of your ear.

“That’s what you said last time, too, remember Bucky? Last time, when Tony threatened that if we missed one more party he would publicly embarrass us?” You argued back, fighting the urge to melt against Bucky. “Besides, I’d like to point out that this is for your birthday. I guarantee one or two people are bound to notice,” you added, trying hard to cling to logic as that hand traced closer and closer to the slit in your skirt.

“But I only want one cake tonight,” Bucky whispered playfully, his metal fingers lightly pinching your rear end.

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Sword Play - Lord of the Rings

Hey! I love your blog, I was wondering if you could please write an imagine about the reader being eowyn’s hand maid and a sparring partner (sword fight I mean), and she catches eomer’s eye?

AN: Since the Anon specified pronouns I wrote this as female reader

Words: 790

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