#Stylish White T-Shirts for Men | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellotailor · 6 months ago

Note

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #costume design #louis de pointe du lac #lestat #iwtv costume design #claudia #armand #iwtv meta #fortunatelyhercat #pajamas #asks

595 notes · View notes

running-with-kn1ves · 2 years ago

Note

Got me awe struck how you write so well kinda wish i had that skill too! Anyway, how about boyfriend praising reader(who felt insecure) starting from sweet then getting creepier. Like something in the lines of "praising their kindness, so lucky to have them" to "he knows , he will kill for them."

A/N: A/N: sacrificed my soul for this one and it didn't turn out as slayful as I wanted.. Anyway, I hope this is what you were thinking anon :D sorry for any mistakes and thank you!

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's compliment goes a little too far when he tries to cheer you up.

T/W: Mildly graphic threats of violence, forced kissing, manipulation, insecure reader, yandere themes/behaviors

WC:3000

You found yourself in a bathroom stall for the fifth time in one evening, sitting on the toilet with your head in your hands. You just wanted it all to go away: the people, the drinks, the music that boomed in your ears. You had already stained your sequined clothes with spilt champagne earlier that night, the stickiness of it on your chest beginning to mix with the thick sweat crawling down your neck. It was too damn hot in here, the buzz of the bathroom fan making you claw at your updone hair.

The mass amounts of club goers here were far more accustomed to this lifestyle than you. Which was intimidating, to say the least. They all looked so perfectly dolled up-- not a smudge of makeup out of place, delicious scents of colognes and perfumes mixing together. Not to mention, they could hold their alcohol far better than you could.

One bitter cocktail and you were already hazy-eyed, your face warm and balance a little loopy. You were by no means drunk, but the contents of your drink had certainly offered a level of instability to your emotions and movements.

The image of men in their chic dress shirts that showed hours of gym time and girls in their tight party dresses made you want to curl up in the corner and marinate in self-pity. It was hard not to compare yourself, not when you spent hours searching for the right clothes that would fit with your boyfriend’s stylish accents, constantly perfecting your concealer to hide the dark bags beneath your eyes.

And yet, even with your hard work, you still felt out of place, still felt the pinch of hundreds of passing stares and biting grins of condescension as you stood next to your overly charismatic significant other.

Through your pounding headache and shaky breaths, You could hear the winding creak of the bathroom door being pushed open.

Narrow-footed shoes echoed on the white tile floor, slowly passing each bathroom stall and sink basin.

“Sweetheart?” A voice questioned. “You in here?”

You stayed silent, covering your mouth and lifting your feet from the floor. You didn’t want him to know you had spent the past 20 minutes in here wiping away stinging tears from your eyes, shoving paper towels down the front of your dazzling shirt to soak up champagne. You smelled like alcohol and whatever cleaner they used to permeate the bathroom with, and it certainly wouldn’t be a sight that you wanted your boyfriend to see.

However, despite your attempts to make yourself disappear, you saw his clubbing shoes patiently make their way to the front of your stall. You looked within the separating crack of the door and the wall, seeing a blur of black clothes and sun-kissed skin. Your eyes focused and without warning you made eye contact with him, his face showing a worried, yet sly grin. He was waiting-- peering in on you sitting there in ruin.

You jolted in surprise, your foot slipping from the toilet seat as you looked away. You hoped if you moved fast enough, that maybe he would think you were someone else.

“C’mon, let me in.” He pressed against the door, trying to open it from the outside.

Well, seemed like tricking him didn’t work.

“Don’t come in here Ezra! I--” You weren’t sure how to convince him to go away. “I don’t want you to see me.”

He went quiet, keeping his hand atop the door handle and watching the door.

“Why not?”

Panic rose in your chest again, forcing you to try to come up with a way to get him to leave you alone, atleast long enough to make yourself look presentable.

“I-... I just--”

“C’mon, I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything, just open the door,” He raddled the handle, pressing his face against the crack of the door.

“Don’t!” You shout, trying to cover the crack with your hands.

Your boyfriend let out a low grunt, annoyed at your stubbornness.

He tried rattling the door once more, pulling hard enough to make the hinges creak. You feared that if he pulled any harder, he might rip the entire door off.

“You’ve been in there for almost a half hour,” Ezra impatiently replied, putting his hand on the top of the stall door. “If you don’t open up, I’m going to force my way in there.”

He began to pull, jerking the door hard enough that the other stalls began to clatter.

“No-- wait okay okay okay!” You panicked, trying to pry his hand away from the top of the door.

Instantaneously he grabbed your wrist, pulling it upward to get a good handle on you. His fingers were warm, as if he had his hands clenched for a long period of time.

“I’m not letting go until you do.” He said coldly, squeezing your hand. He was serious, holding your wrist securely enough to show he meant business: he’d stand there all night if that's what it took. Your several disappearances had worried him enough.

His thumb moved up to caress the dip in your palm, turning your hand to face outwards. Ezra’s face was still pressed up against the door crack, looking to provoke you further out.

Stomping your foot, you wracked your brain for something-- anything, to deter him away. But the lingering threat of his hand left your mind to draw a blank.

“....Fine.” You mutter, pulling the paper towels out of your chest. You try to wipe away any leftover tears, but you know it does little to lessen the redness of your eyes.

With a shaky breath, you ask him to stand back, and slowly unlock the door. Purposely taking as long as possible, you keep your feet moving at an inchworm's pace, hardly stepping away from the stall.

Your boyfriend tears open the stall door now that its unlocked, not yet releasing your arm.

You see his figure in front of you but refuse to look up, instead turning away and allowing him to drag you out of the small confines of the stall. He pulls you to the large sink basins, reaching for your chin. You flinch a little as he turns your head, looking at your tear stricken face. You felt like a mess, but he didn’t seem to change expression as you stared back.

“Now, what’s been the matter sweetheart?”

You feel the cold of his rings against your balmy cheeks, his thumb running over your wet eyelashes to brush away unfallen tears.

“I just don’t feel good…” You say, relishing in the affection, even though it makes your stomach churn.

“What doesn't feel good?” He asks, letting go to inspect the rest of you.

You relax against the low counter, feeling it hit your tailbone.

“Did someone hurt you?” He searches your body for marks. “Are you feeling sick? Had too much to drink, baby?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a child answering to their mother.

“You’re going to have to tell me what it is, then. I can’t read your mind.” He lightly scolds.

There’s a gentleness in the deep vibrato of his voice as he bares the blunt words, looking at you with an expectant gaze.

You fidget a tad, beginning to pace in a small two-step dance.

“I just--” You turn away, fidgeting with your fingers. “I feel, ridiculous.”

You move to grasp your forehead, avoiding your boyfriends gaze.

“Dressed up in this stupid get up, surrounded by these people who-- who I don’t belong next to, who make me look like a fool for being here…!”

You fold your arms over your chest defensively, turning away from the man.

“Did you see the way everyone was looking at me? I looked so stupid, standing next to you! Or even next to them, as if I could convince them that I belong here, next to someone of their own.” You turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person who stared back. “I just.. I don’t belong here, with you… with these people… I feel absurd for even trying.”

You hear your voice shake at the last few words, not realizing you were getting worked up enough to cry. But then there it was, that burning in your nose and the blurriness of tears in your eyes. You felt your face scrunch and tense up, the ugliness of your cries breaking out to make you feel even smaller.

Putting a hand to your mouth and turning away from the mirror, you hoped your boyfriend hadn’t seen or heard the way you appeared ready to sob.

But a heavy, commanding hand pulled your shoulder back, turning you around with ease as you let your body fall to whatever whims he desired.

Your nose was shoved against Ezra’s chest as he pushed your head against him, wrapping his arms around you. He stroked your hair, pushing it off your sweaty skin. It was almost suffocating, the way he trapped you against him. But it made you feel secure, knowing that he couldn’t see your face full of tears and shame, that you didn’t have to continue to spill your heart out to him.

“Baby….” He said. It was in such a soft, understanding tone that you didn’t think it came from his lips at first. “How could you ever, ever, compare yourself to these… strangers?”

You sniffled against his dress shirt, hiding yourself in his chest and expensive cologne, a scent so familiar and potent that it put your body at ease.

“I mean, you? Versus them? These half drunken idiots who can barely hold themselves up?” Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking slightly against you. “Darling why would you ever want to be like them?”

You wiped your eyes, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“I thought thats what… you wanted. How else am I supposed show up when I meet your friends.” You mumbled.

Your boyfriend pulls your chin, lifting you to face him.

“I brought you here to meet everyone because I wanted them to meet you, not whatever persona the rest of the assholes here portray.”

You looked away, letting his words sink in.

“Besides, they were only looking at you because you were the most captivating thing in that room,” He ran his pointer finger over your bottom lip, the cold of his rings hitting the bitten skin.

“The most,” He cut himself off with a kiss to your neck. “Stunning,” kiss, ” “kind,” another kiss, “and amazing thing in that room. They were just how awestruck I was when I first saw you.”

He softened as he saw you squeeze your lips shut, preventing a smile from escaping.

“Though I won’t let them make the same moves on you like I did.” He joked, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes.

Brushing his thumb on your cheek, Ezra took away the remnants of tears. A pit of shame grew in your stomach when you saw him frown at your saddened state.

“But listen,” He bent closer to your face, shifting his warm hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, hands down. And I wouldn’t trade any of the bastards in here for you, so enough self-loathing.”

Your cheeks squish as he pressed his palms against them, forcing your head to nod as you went limp.

“Good.” He smiled, grinning at how you seemed to wait for his next response.

You let him let go, even though you wanted to stay in that position of safety for longer.

He ruffled your hair back in place, fixing the few scraggled strands that he could. Ezra talked while fetching a paper towel to clean the goo beneath your eyes, originally from your tears.

“I mean, honestly, do you think I wouldn’t kill the bastards in here if they tried to look at you wrong? Come on, no way I would let that slide.”

You smiled at hearing that, thinking he was just being dramatic.

Paper towel in hand, Ezra lifted you up from the ground slightly. He put you down on the sink counter, keeping his hands planted to the sides of your abdomen.

Letting out a low laugh, he continues to wipe away at your eyes. His demeanor shifted to be quieter; something you aren't used to from your blab of a boyfriend.

Dark hair covers to his eyelids, sticking to his skin as the heat from the bathroom has begun to her to him.

The humming of the bathroom fan is all that fills the room for a few moments, Ezra’s concentration on your eyes leaving you both quiet. Though, you could tell he still had something he wanted to say.

"I mean, you don't understand how many times I've had the urge to mutilate the men in this club for staring at you, just from tonight alone" he licked his lips, curling his unmoving hand beside you. He seemed to be… nervous. "I'd pull their teeth out first, working my way down. Tearing each fingernail off one by one, pulling the veins from their wrists… I'd remove anything they have to witness you with."

He looked back up at you, staring within your eyes as if he was lost in them, as if he was looking inside of you. Despite his tender look that seemed to crave your cooperation, that should have made you blush– your smile fell. The warmth once spreading in your chest was now going cold, sinking to your stomach.

"You captivated the whole room, and I can't stand it…" he didn't seem to notice your fallen expression, or the shaking in your hands on the counter. "I hate the way they can hear your laugh, sit beside you and feel your warmth… how you can smile at them and let them make you feel as if you aren't the best thing to ever walk into this club. I hate it so fucking much."

Your boyfriend trailed his finger down the sequins on your clothes, trying to hold himself back from getting too close.

You shifted uncomfortably as your he leaned up close to your mouth, just far away enough to where he couldn't indulge in how badly he wanted to kiss you. There was this suffocating desire inside his chest to paint his claim violently upon your body in this bathroom right now, to let you walk put of this club with everyone staring at the little pieces of him only, forcing them all to know who you really belong to.

You didn't know what to say to his confession…. Should you thank him? Run away? Beg him to go to therapy?

Instead you stayed quiet, searching for the right words to not tick him off, now that you knew what he was potentially…. Capable of.

"They want to hurt you, to use you and then throw you away like some brainless sex doll. They only have bad intentions, baby."

Your boyfriend slid down to your knees, crouching down as you sat on the counter above him. He pulled your left leg toward him gently, kissing up from your ankle, to your shin, to your knee.

"But i'll take care of you, I won't let you be tricked.."He looks up at you with fluttering lashes, raising your leg ever so slightly to press his lips against your inner thigh.

"You know how much I adore you… right?"

Your skimpy clothes gave him even more access than you felt comfortable with, seeing the adoration pulsate within his eyes and the desperation in his hands.

"Of course," you reply, hesitantly bringing a hand up to his cheek, hoping he wasn't thinking of murdering you too in this bathroom.

His warm, damp hands molded the flesh of your bare thighs in his fingers, pushing in between the tight layer of where your tiny shorts and your skin meet, trying to dig beneath them. He wanted to hold all of you, to keep you in his arms so you couldn't even think of leaving, of running to someone else.

"You know that I'd never hurt you… that I only want what's best for you… that I'd kill for you--…" he mumbles the last bit, pressing your hand deeper against his cheek as he looks up from below at you, giving a cheeky grin.

You nod your head, hoping his homicidal thoughts were just that-- thoughts.

He was quick to fool you again with that sweet, lovely smile that seemed to bask in your presence, the smile that made you feel like the most desirable person in the world. No matter how many threats he gave out they never seemed to deter the fact that his soft, adoring expression made you feel like he'd choose you in a room full of thousands.

Your small assurance gave him the confidence to press his head further between your legs, running kisses back up from your knee to your thigh.

He trailed up your skin, kisses growing hungry. Pulling your sequined shorts, your boyfriend buried his head between your thighs– trying to get where he knows he'll have full control over you.

"Not here," you said breathlessly and bewildered, trying to push away his head. "We can't do that here–!"

His hair was soft, even with the thin spread of gel that kept it in place as you ran your hands down to his neck. Tugging at tufts of his hair and using your legs to push him away, you found little to nothing dispirited him.

"Just let me show how much I love you..."

Each time you tried to use your knee to push him, Ezra pushed it against the sink countertop with the heavy weight of his hand. He looked up at you with a sick grin that meant: “just try and beat me.” A part of you felt panicked, not just from the compromising position-- but from how insistent he was. Like he was trying to prove something to you.

It wasn't until the echo of the bathroom door swinging open and hitting the wall, did he lift his head. His eyes went wide, jaw clenching as he whipped around to look. The fearful expression would've been funny if you weren't just as scared.

You quickly jumped off the counter and pulled your shorts back into position, watching to see someone peak around from the corner. But the sounds of drunken laughter faded away, and no one made themselves apparent.

You and Ezra sighed simultaneously, the heat from the stuffy bathroom showing to have been too much for the both of you.

He reached for your hand, pulling you towards him. Ezra goes quiet, and you keep your gaze to the ground. He had shown sides of himself tonight that you weren’t exactly sure how to process.

“Lets just go home, okay?” Ezra says after a few moments, whispering with a grin.“I wanna finish what we started.”

What were you to say? You stuttered, thinking to protest, to run away or maybe even admit how afraid you were.

But with a kiss to your sweaty forehead, your boyfriend slung his arm over your shoulder and began leading you to the exit of the bathroom.

Your feet had moved on your own, your mouth still lingering to form words. As Ezra opened the door, the stench of alcohol and cheap perfume hit you once again.

3K notes · View notes

fafnir19 · 10 months ago

Text

The lingerie boutique

Leif stood at the threshold of the lingerie boutique, an unfamiliar nervousness pricking at him. His girlfriend's incessant chatter about her friends' partners embarking on risqué escapades for special occasions echoed in his mind. "Sexy photos, Leif. Sexy surprises! That's what other guys do," she had pouted, twirling a lock of her hair in that alluring way that always made his heart race.

Leif, a man in his early thirties with a burgeoning beer belly that spoke of late-night pizza indulgences, found it absurd. Despite his skepticism about the "sexy" trends of middle-aged men in lace and leather, Leif decided to take the plunge. His mind echoed with her words, urging him to step out of his comfort zone. So here he was, on a mission to find something "sexy" for her birthday.

Pushing his doubts aside, Leif entered the shop, greeted by a universe of lace and silk. He couldn't help but feel out of place amidst the sea of women browsing the intimate garments. His eyes darted around the shop, trying to avoid the judging gazes of the ladies as he tentatively made his way towards the men's section tucked discreetly in the corner. Among the crowd of women, he noticed only one other male in the shop, who exuded a confidence Leif could only dream of.

"Maybe he's buying something for his girlfriend," Leif thought, feeling a pang of insecurity as he fingered a delicate lace brief. This man was a stark contrast to Leif's own self-image, muscular and undeniably handsome. This type of guy seemed to belong in the sensuous garments adorning the displays - not Leif.

Gathering his resolve, Leif made his way to the changing rooms, his mind swirling with thoughts of how ridiculous he must look with his chubby frame and hairy chest. Once inside the changing room, Leif stripped down and reluctantly put on the lace briefs. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but cringe at the sight. "I look ridiculous," he muttered to himself.

Tugging at the fabric, he realized it clung to him stubbornly, refusing to budge. Panic welled up inside him, and he made desperate attempts to free himself from the unforgiving lace. Frantic now, Leif made a decision born out of frustration. With a sudden burst of strength, he tried to tear the briefs off, only to be met with excruciating pain that shot through his body like a lightning bolt. The room seemed to spin as agony consumed him, and he closed his eyes against the relentless torment. It was as if tendrils of magic seeped into his being, reshaping him from the inside out.

Moments later, as the pain ebbed away, Leif cautiously opened his eyes and glanced at his reflection once more. What he saw left him speechless. Staring back at him was a young man in his twenties, chiseled features and a physique that seemed sculpted by a divine hand.

A mixture of shock and disbelief coursed through him as he whispered, "What happened to me?" In a daze, Leif hastily donning his old, oversized clothing over the lace briefs. However, to his horror, his t-shirt began to tighten around him and the fabric of his t-shirt transformed before his eyes, changing from drab cotton to elegant white lace. The cut of the shirt reshaped itself into a stylish button-down shirt, and as if by magic, the sleeves rolled up on its own. Buttons of his button-down shirt slowly unfurled, unveiling a smooth, hairless chest that bore no resemblance to the man he once was. The transformation didn't stop there. His jeans shimmered and turned into tight luxurious silk pants. The silky texture against his now slender thighs and sculpted buttocks elicited an unexpected sensation of arousal, causing a soft moan to escape his lips involuntarily and shocking Leif to his core. "That's not me. I need to get out of here," he whispered to himself, a sense of urgency driving him to leave the changing room. Finally his worn-out trainers transformed into stylish loafers, completing his new look, showcasing his now naked ankles and leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Overwhelmed and confused, Leif stormed out of the changing room, intent on escaping the eerie enchantment of the shop.

In a twist of serendipity—or perhaps cruel irony—Leif collided with the other male customer in the shop, a man named Brandon. Brandon smirked at Leif, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Leaving so soon, my handsome boy?" his smooth voice resonated in the small space, sending shivers down Leif's spine. Startled and unsure how to react, Leif stammered, "I-I... I need to go." But Brandon's hand reached out, gently touching Leif's arm. "How about we grab a coffee? It's the least I can do after causing such a commotion." His grin was playful, enticing.

Leif was taken aback, unsure of how to respond to such an unexpected proposition. His initial reaction was a mix of alarm, disgust and discomfort at the suggestive undertones in Brandon's words. “This imposing man sees my young and delicate silk- and lace-clad form only as an invitation to bring me to suck his cock," Leif mentally recoiled, trying to find a way out of the situation.

As Leif crushed his mind about an non-offensive response and gazed incidentally at Brandon's muscular frame, a wave of envy washed over him. Brandon exuded confidence and power, a stark contrast to Leif's own insecurities. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at Brandon's commanding presence, his own sense of self-doubt magnified in comparison.

Leif felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood his mind – despite a tinge of jealousy at Brandon's apparent confidence he also felt admiration for the man's muscular physique and his intense green eyes.

Thoughts raced through Leif's mind like a wild stallion, each one more scandalous than the last. He couldn't help but notice how impeccably dressed Brandon was and how good he was looking. His tailored suit hugging his muscular frame in all the right places. The younger version of Leif felt a tingle of attraction towards this dominant man standing before him. But then, a scent caught Leif's attention - the pleasant, manly smell of Brandon's cologne. It enveloped him like a warm embrace, stirring up desires he never knew he had. Images flashed through his mind like lightning, each one more erotic than the last. He imagined what it would be like to kiss Brandon, to feel the roughness of his stubble against his skin.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, a shocking confession slipped past Leif's lips before he could even process it. "Yes, I want to suck your cock, Brandon!" he blurted out, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment as soon as the words left his mouth.

Brandon's lips curled into a sly smile, a predatory glint shining in his eyes as he seized the opportunity presented to him. Without a word, he guided Leif into a secluded changing room, the air thick with anticipation.

The small confines of the room felt suffocating yet thrilling, the quiet rustle of fabric the only sound between them. Leif's heart pounded in his chest, his body responding to the primal call of desire. Kneeling before the man whose dominance seemed to awaken a submissive side within him, Leif delved into uncharted waters, his actions guided by a primal urge he had never acknowledged before.

The taste of danger lingered on his lips as he took Brandon in, exploring a side of himself he never dared to acknowledge. Brandon's fingers tangled in Leif's hair, guiding him with a firm yet gentle touch. Leif's breath ghosted over Brandon's skin, each whispered touch sending shivers down his spine. Pleasure mingled with trepidation as Leif traced his tongue along the length of Brandon's cock, savoring the salty sweetness that teased his senses. With each passing moment, Leif found himself consumed by a heady mix of apprehension and exhilaration as he pleasured Brandon.

After the storm of passion subsided, Brandon's fingers threaded through Leif's hair, a silent gesture of approval and satisfaction. With a whispered "Thanks, boy," Brandon left the changing room without a backward glance.

Leif was confused and still kneeling there, as a sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite the raw intensity of the moment, he couldn't shake the feeling of being used, of being reduced to a mere object of desire. Nevertheless, his relationship with his girlfriend, once a cornerstone of his existence, now seemed like a distant memory.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #straight to gay #age regression

214 notes · View notes

kingkonoha · 1 year ago

Text

FIVE HUSBANDS — THE TOUR

♡ — SUMMARY: This is a scene about Jean, Eren & Y/N during the Eldian Devils tour.

♡ — CONTENT: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI — smut & angst.

♡ — WC: 3.5K

♡ — A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to say that this scene is safe to read even if you haven’t read the recent part(s). Timeline wise, this takes place during chapter 2, and some of this is from the POV of 2 fans.

read the series here.

The entire stadium erupted into a fit of shrieks and screams, men and women alike tearing up in utter excitement as their dark surroundings were lit up by the enormous stage in front of them coming to life.

The concert was starting — and, god, how their arms and legs trembled from the anticipation of being able to breathe the same air as Eldian Devils.

Sabrina Rine had practically spent her entire life savings on floor seats and a meet-and-greet ticket.

She was tired of watching videos on social media, witnessing other lucky fans meeting her favorite band. She was sick of listening to their albums on Spotify instead of hearing them live.

The young waitress would surely have to pick up as many extra shifts as possible once she returned to work in three days, but it would all be worth it.

She stood there wearing her black Eldian Devils t-shirt, brown hair in a ponytail, her hazel eyes darting across the stage that had suddenly lit up with flickering white and red lights.

Her younger sister, Riley, excitedly grabbed ahold of her arm.

Unlike Sabrina, Riley didn’t care too much for Eldian Devils. She thought the drummer, Jean, was cute, and she was wearing a black crop top that said “KIRSTEIN’S WIFE” in red, bold letters, but truthfully, she was there to see the opening act.

The diamond-in-the-rough.

The cover artist from New York City.

The talented girl who once worked in the bakery.

Eren Yeager’s new girlfriend.

Those were all the titles that both trendy online articles and magazines sitting in the waiting rooms of dental offices had called you.

And while you hadn’t officially released your own music yet, leaving the internet to debate whether or not it was socially acceptable to call you an artist, Riley Rine was one of your biggest fans.

Riley’s cheap earplugs did little to protect her ears from the shouting fans surrounding her, but she didn’t mind, as she was screaming just as loudly once a pair of black, glittery, high-heeled boots appeared from behind a cloud of smoke.

It was you.

Her idol.

Your gorgeous black top and skirt — which was sparkly too, but not as much as your stylish boots — were similar to what the dancers posing at your side were wearing as well.

And Riley knew one thing for certain: she needed to find your outfit so she could dress up as you for Halloween this year.

Suddenly, the vibrating screams grew louder. Sabrina couldn’t contain her shocked excitement when, surprisingly, Eren Yeager appeared on stage by your side.

Both of you being on stage together defeated the point of an opening act, but only a bitter fool would care.

Eventually, the rest of the band joined you and Eren.

Sabrina raised her iPhone, turning it horizontally as she recorded the handsome rockstar grabbing your hand. At one point, he kissed you as well, and Sabrina could see the frantic tweets now from fellow fangirls clicking their thumbs against their phones as they typed frantically, raving on about how Eren never took his eyes off of you. How they wished for Eren — or any cute celebrity, truthfully — would look at them that way too.

However, as Sabrina zoomed in on Jean playing the drums in the background, wanting to get some footage of him for Riley to look at later, she couldn’t help but notice that he had his eye on you too.

And when Eren’s lips touched yours and the crowd shrieked and screamed in support, Jean’s soft grin slowly faded into a heartbroken frown.

—

Both Sabrina and Riley’s hands trembled, their fingers intertwined as their wobbly legs guided them backstage after the concert.

The equally excited-nervous fans surrounding them could hardly contain their shrieks, but who could blame them?

Every second that passed by was one second closer to meeting their idols — be it the gorgeous rockstar Eren Yeager with his long brown hair, perfect smile, black clothes, and just the right amount of tattoos, or you, the pretty upcoming popstar who was currently making headlines for simply existing.

The group of fans were escorted into a room where music played gently. There was a white backdrop with the title of the band plastered repeatedly across the entirety of it in the center of the room. Refreshments and water were served buffet style, but not one fan reached for a snack, much too nervous to eat anything.

They all simply waited for your arrival.

—

With his lips pressed against yours, Eren moaned softly. His thumbs graced your cheeks, tongue swirling around yours, and when your hands made their way into his slightly sweaty brown hair, he moaned once again.

As enormous as his dressing room was, it didn’t have a bed. He requested for at least a full-sized bed to be put in so he could fuck you properly. Levi immediately said no.

Eren didn’t care, though. He’d make it work with the stupid couch or the floor.

Truthfully, as he started to suck and bite at the soft skin of your neck, your lower body grinding against his hard bulge, he was more than okay with fucking you against the wall.

“You know how hard it is to resist the urge to drag you off stage and fuck you mid-show?” Eren whispered, his lips hovering over your jaw, his hand gripping your thigh, the cool material of his black rings pressing against your moist skin. “Have you been taking dance lessons? Who taught you how to move like that, huh?”

“‘Ren, we gotta go, we can’t- ah!’

Eren’s hand suddenly made its way to your ass, which he gripped as if claiming something that belonged to him. As he did so, he gently bit your ear and gave it a little lick.

“They can wait,” his warm breath patted against the side of your face. “We’ll be quick, I promise, baby.”

“Levi’s gonna be pissed,” you whined, and yet, you couldn’t help but continue to grind against him slowly, obsessed with the feeling of his dick, clothed by his black jeans, rubbing against your unexposed pussy lips.

“Then Levi never should’ve let us perform together.”

Eren’s hand moved from your ass to your skirt, which he lifted as much as he could. Then, he ran his fingers across your damp underwear. The sensation — it was too much. Feeling him glide over your clit, although clothed, made you gasp and grip his bicep, polished nails digging into his tattooed skin, and he smiled devilishly, emerald eyes staring into yours with a lustful gaze.

“Don’t tease me, we don’t have time for that,” a little whine slipped from between your lips yet again. “Hurry up. Hurry up and just touch me, please.”

Your desperation was understandable.

Watching Eren play guitar, brown hair hanging down around his shoulders, skin glistening with sweat; seeing him perform turned you on just as much.

“You know how hot you are when you get all whiny and impatient?” Eren’s fingers played with the top of your underwear. “You’re lucky I’m impatient too.”

He needed to feel how wet your clit was. He needed to feel your hole clench around his fingers.

But, as soon as he dipped his hands into your underwear and started to plunge into your soaked folds, Eren’s dressing room door swung open.

He never remembered to lock it.

Jean stood there. A look of relief washed over him, having successfully located you and Eren, but then, he grimaced with disgust.

He wasn’t at all embarrassed about catching you two in the act. After all, this was his third time walking in on you both. At least you both weren’t completely naked with you riding him like a cowgirl on a horse this time.

“What the hell are you two doing?” His heart pinged with jealousy. “Everyone’s waiting for you. Did you forget about the goddamn meet-and-greet? Jesus.”

“Dude, just give us five minutes.” Eren’s eyes darted away from Jean, and down at you, and he smirked a bit. “Maybe we only need two, honestly.”

“Eren!” You swatted his arm.

“You’re both disgusting,” Jean took a sip of his water bottle.

“Just give us a few minutes to finish- I mean . . . freshen up. Just give us a few minutes to freshen up.”

After rolling his eyes, Jean grabbed the door handle and shut it.

One minute and thirty-five seconds.

That’s how long it took for Eren’s clit-rubbing and hole-fingering combo to make you cum all over his fingers. Even so, you and Eren wouldn’t stagger out of his dressing room with sheepish, guilty grins until several minutes later, because Eren needed to take care of his painfully hard dick before greeting his beloved fans. And, well, the rockstar liked to take his time and admire the pretty sight of you on your knees in front of him, his dick slipping in and out of your mouth as he came down your throat.

Then, there was an additional ten minutes to add on, as you both needed to actually freshen up now.

Levi scowled at the popstar-rockstar couple stepping out of the dressing room. You and Eren’s little whispers and sly giggles abruptly ended once you both laid eyes on your pissed-off manager, who glared at you like a priest catching a couple of sinners fooling around during bible study.

“Do you two idiots know what happens to shitty celebrities who mistreat their fans?” Levi's voice was rough and low, brimming with anger. “They end up with a ruined name. And not anything like the little scandals that tie nicely into your bad boy image, Eren, but a real, bad name. The kind of name that ruins careers until you go from being a rich-ass rockstar to a Walmart cashier. There’s nothing wrong with being a cashier if that’s what you wanna do with your life since, apparently, being a famous rockstar with fans to please is too difficult, but if you’re stupid enough to keep your fans waiting — keep me waiting — then I doubt you’re smart enough know how to count change. And Y/N, you only have about five fans in the entire world right now. I suggest you get your shit together before you go from having fans at a concert to having customers at the bakery again. Keep this up, and your ass will be shoved on a one-way flight to New York in a fraction of the time it took you to come out of that room. Now, both of you, get your asses to the meet-and-greet.”

Levi walked off with one final glare, leaving Jean — who leaned against the wall, listening — to escort you both.

Jean wanted to rub salt in the wound, knowing it would have ticked Eren off even more, but when he saw the sad look on your face, he opted for a different idea.

“It’s okay,” Jean spoke softly. He discreetly reached down and tugged on a part of your skirt that was still raised too high from your intimacy session with Eren earlier. “He was pissed with me earlier for taking off my eyeliner before the meet-and-greet.”

“What’s up his ass today? ‘S not like anyone will leave. They’ll forget about how long they’ve been waiting as soon as they see us,” Eren frowned.

The three of you walked down the twisted backstage hallways.

“I just wish he wouldn’t constantly hold me being nothing more than a baker from New York over my head whenever he’s mad at me,” your low mumble made Eren look at you with curious, worried eyes. “I know he’ll apologize later, but-”

“I’ll talk to him.”

For a man who couldn’t say a word when he was getting scolded like a little kid earlier, he certainly sounded brave now. After all, knowing Levi had truly upset you was enough.

“No, Eren,” you waved your hand a bit. “It’s fine. Let’s not drag this out.”

“She’s right,” Jean said. “We gotta remember that all of our fuck ups just come back to bite him in the ass too. Being a manager is a stressful job.”

“I’m not fucking scared to stick up for myself like you are, Jean.”

Jean tossed his hands up defensively. “Woah, where the hell did that come from? What are you being an asshole for this time?”

Eren stopped walking. Your footsteps abruptly came to a halt as well.

“Guys, come on, we don’t have time for this,” you spoke pointlessly.

“I’m being an asshole because Levi didn’t know where we were until you ran and got him like a little snitch,” Eren’s brows furrowed. “And this is also the fourth or fifth time you’ve walked in on me and Y/N. You’d think by now you’d learn to knock on my dressing room door. I’m starting to wonder if you’re just a damn pervert who wants to catch my girlfriend with her clothes off.”

“Really? You wanna fight about this now, Eren?” Jean clenched his jaw. “You were in your dressing room, not fucking Afghanistan. Levi would’ve put that together as soon as he finished checking her dressing room. And you should learn to lock your door every now and then if you’re worried about someone looking at Y/N. Just let it go, alright? We’re about to go meet the people who pay your goddamn bills, and you think now is the right time to talk about this?”

“Don’t give me those shitty excuses, and stop trying to avoid the conversation. We’re already late, so let’s talk about it.” Eren took a step closer to Jean.

“Back off, Eren,” you tried once again. “You two have been at each other’s throats this entire tour. If people start noticing-”

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Eren questioned you, but he never broke his intense stare into Jean’s unwavering gaze.

“Because if you two start punching each other, you’ll both have to walk into the meet-and-greet with a bloody nose or miss it entirely. And either way, all three of us will get in trouble. I, for one, can’t afford to get in any more trouble, because I don’t have any money or real fame to fall back on if I get dropped as a client. So, I need Levi and CS Records or whoever to like me, okay?”

A moment of cold glares passed by, but eventually, Eren stepped away from his bandmate.

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Jean, that’s what I think. Stay away from me and my girlfriend, okay?”

“Says the bastard who goes around stealing partners, collecting women like they’re fucking Pokemons.”

Worriedly, and yet, defeatedly, you looked up at Eren, just knowing he’d punch his bandmate in the face for his latest comment.

“Sounds like you’re jealous because no one wants your ass,” Eren bit back. “You haven’t had a real girlfriend since the band was just you, me, Connie, and Marco making up lyrics in my garage.”

“Speaking of Marco,” Jean tilted his head a bit. “Is he the reason why you try to date everything that can breathe? To fill the hole he left when he died from a stupid stick game you started? Because if that’s the case, then you don’t need a desperate New York wannabe. You need to find a brown-haired guy with-”

“Shut the hell up! How can you say that to him?”

Your shout came from your soul. This wasn’t the same man who had just helped you write your first song a few nights ago, yet to be released. This version of Jean, you had no idea where he came from. Whether Eren was any better, you couldn’t be certain. Not only had he insulted you, but bringing up Marco was a new low. A new low for anyone.

Jean brought out the worst in Eren, and Eren brought out the worst in Jean.

“I’m sorry . . . I went too far,” Jean mumbled, dropping his head. “I didn’t mean what I said just now.”

Both you and Jean were waiting for Eren’s fist to connect with Jean’s jaw, but instead, a tear rolled down Eren’s cheek, one that he tried to quickly wipe away.

“It wasn’t like that, so fuck off and go to hell.” Eren’s words packed no punch.

It broke your heart into pieces, knowing that Jean didn’t make Eren angry.

He just hurt his feelings.

Eren continued to walk and frown. Frown and walk. But, as the meet-and-greet entrance came into view, his face softened, knowing he couldn’t greet fans with a face full of tears and attitude after keeping them waiting.

After taking a few deep breaths, the three of you stepped through the door with bright smiles, not showcasing anything that happened moments ago.

—

Oh my god.

It was you three. Eren in the middle, Jean standing to the right, you to the left.

Oh my god.

Sabrina and Riley screamed just as loudly as the rest of the fans. It felt as if the room started to vibrate, and she was certain the girl next to her fainted when Eren locked eyes with her for half a second.

Getting the fans into organized lines was indeed a chaotic, but functional mess. Luckily, there were only fifteen or twenty people who snagged the VIP passes within seconds of them dropping online. Sabrina figured that the company behind Eldian Devils was a smart business, as only having a few exclusive meet-and-greet slots meant there was an easier crowd to manage, fans got more time with the stars, and they were well within their rights to charge a fortune.

Where most celebrities quickly snapped a picture with their admirers after mumbling a short, careless greeting before sending them away, you, Jean, and Eren, would be able to talk to everyone for at least a few minutes.

It was wonderful.

After waiting for a while, it was Sabrina’s turn to approach the three celebrities standing in front of the backdrop. She made her way towards her favorite person first, her entire body trembling, tears streaming down her face.

Nervously, her wobbly legs led her to Eren Yeager’s side.

It was him. It was really him.

What if he was mean to her? What if she said something stupid? What if he refused to take a picture with her for some reason? What if she still smelled like all of the cheap restaurant food she had to serve to afford this opportunity? What if . . .

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eren Yeager smiled down beautifully at the shorter girl as if he had known her his entire life. “How are you?”

“Good!” Sabrina squeaked out, speaking between sobs as best as she could. Just her luck. She was meeting the Eren Yeager and she could barely see his gorgeous face thanks to the tears clouding her vision. “I-I love . . . I love you so-so much!”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet?” Eren wrapped his arms around his fan, rubbing her back gently. “I love you too. What’s your name?”

“Suh-Sa-” The girl couldn’t speak. She could only focus on the fact that Eren was hugging her. “Su-bean-a.”

Eren’s smile grew. He knew what the brunette girl was trying to say, as by now, he was a master when it came to understanding what his fans were saying while they sobbed.

“Sabrina? That’s a cute name. Wanna take a picture?”

She nodded as she sobbed, wiping off her tears and ruined makeup before turning and facing the camera.

“What pose do you wanna do, bean?”

Oh, she almost fainted when Eren called her that.

If Eren didn’t still have his arms around her, the young girl was certain she would have collapsed on the floor.

She couldn’t speak well enough to tell him what pose she had been planning in her head for months, so she showed him as best as she could with her trembling arms, but he understood.

Eren stood behind her, leaned down a bit, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

After the camera flashed, Sabrina turned back around to face Eren. Unlike other meet-and-greets, she didn’t have to move on immediately.

But she’ll be damned if she lets her nerves ruin her chances of chatting with Eren.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s okay,” Eren gently wiped her tears away with her thumb. “It’s okay.”

That only made her sob harder.

“Aw, she’s the cutest, isn’t she?” you appeared at Eren’s side, smiling at the crying fan. The fan who visited you earlier had wrapped up the photo and conversation rather quickly, as they were in a hurry to meet Jean next. That was understandable, being that it was the Eldian Devils tour.

That was when Sabrina’s younger sister — who was next in line — suddenly ran up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Unlike other fans, Riley showed up specifically to meet you, and she wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity because her dear sister was taking too long.

And, unlike her sobbing sibling, she was strong enough to hold her tears back so she could effectively communicate.

“I love you so much, Y/N! You’re so pretty! I love your voice, I swear to god, I’m your biggest fan!”

You and Eren exchanged smiles with each other, the both of you thinking: what an adorable set of fans.

You hugged the girl back, saying, “Thank you! You’re too kind.”

“Can we get a group picture? Please?” Riley pleaded, clasping her hands together.

You looked up at Eren, unsure if such a thing was allowed.

“Of course,” Eren spoke up. He didn’t know if it was allowed either, but he didn’t care.

You, Eren, and Sabrina huddled together, but Riley — who was wearing a Jean Kirstein shirt — ran over, grabbed the drummer’s wrist, and pulled Jean into the picture as well.

Fans in the background groaned with impatience and jealousy, but Riley and Sabrina didn’t care one bit.

This was the happiest day of their lives, and yet, one of the worst for the three smiling celebrities.

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

238 notes · View notes

restinslices · 1 year ago

Note

Silly little request but how do you think LKB would dress like casually? Like once every blue moon they have a day off and ding need to wear their uniforms? Can you do this in bullet points?

Them not in their uniforms is such a normal concept but it seems so weird for them if you know what I mean. Like, wdym they don’t wear those outfits to sleep? Also this is probably shorter than other posts because it’s about outfits, yk?

Bi-Han

Black. Moving on-

On some real shit though, I feel like this man’s entire wardrobe is in greyscale

Someone’s like “hey there’s this event coming up! Can you wear a blue shirt?”

You’d think he’d have blue but nope. Nothing but blacks and greys and maybe a white in there

I saw a post of biker Bi-Han and I definitely see it now

Idk if the pictures imma attach at the end are really biker tho so that’s why I’m saying mainly blacks

Like Elsa, the cold doesn’t bother him anyway so jackets aren’t really a thing he has to wear. He kinda just does because it makes the outfit look better

That’s all the brain power he puts into it though because this man doesn’t care about his wardrobe at all

He cares enough to not look sloppy but he doesn’t care about piecing shit together or brands and designer. If you look closely you can see he’s wearing the same shirt he was wearing yesterday

He wears black because he’s still thinking like an assassin. The whole “I shouldn’t be noticeable” thing

Which is wild when you think about how he’s definitely noticeable in that blue outfit but idk

He also wears black because… he doesn’t know

He checked his closet and realized that shit looked like a black void but refuses to actually wear more color

I don’t see him accessorizing much either. He only carries stuff he can fit in his pockets

Kuai Liang

Lazy

Bi-Han adds a jacket for a bit of razzle dazzle but Kuai Liang doesn’t

In all fairness, he gets hot easily (this is stereotypical but idc) so a jacket isn’t gonna work

He wears the most basic t shirts and pants

Like he legit got the same white shirt 50 times

The shit is despicable

I don’t think he adds many accessories either. He probably doesn’t carry much on him

Long sleeves never really happen either

Honestly I don’t think of any them dress with any special aesthetic in mind

But him? Extra lazy

I am being so serious when I say he buys the same clothes over and over again. He forgets he has a white t shirt in his closet so he buys another and the cycle repeats

Probably doesn’t care as much because what are the chances he’ll be out of uniform?

You know how people say men's outfits are so boring? He’s the main example they use because there’s no personality with his shit

I don’t see him doing much on his off days though so that’s probably why he just throws something on

He’s just getting dressed to go grocery shopping

Tomas Vrbada

The one with the most style

Which isn’t saying a lot

Wears multiple layers

Why do I think this way? Idk. But if I said they all dress the same, it’d be boring so here we are

He probably has a normal type of body heat since he’s not a pyromancer or cryomancer so he’s wearing hoodies and jackets because he’s genuinely cold

He accidentally has style

Wearing a hoodie and jacket is stylish to people for whatever reason. He doesn’t get it but he’s like “yeah, I definitely have fashion sense. It’s definitely not because I’m cold all the time. That just doesn’t sound like me”

May accessorize a bit but not as much

As a whole I think accessories can become heavy and get in the way and our boys gotta be ready to bust a move if something pops off. Just because they’re off duty doesn’t mean they’re not paying attention or in danger

So that’s why our boys travel light

He has those smoke bombs and shit so he might have a little pouch with him but I don’t think he’d carry a backpack. Goes back to being too heavy

If something can��t fit in a pouch, it’s staying home

Dresses in neutral colors. I don’t think any of them are necessarily into bright colors

Doesn’t have the same exact clothes but wears them the same exact way. His outfits look like a skin variation

He’s doing his best

Remember all I do for you because imagining them in normal clothes fucked me up more than I’d like to admit

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #kuai liang scorpion #tomas vrbada smoke #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #tomas vrbada #bi han headcanons #kuai liang headcanons #tomas vrbada headcanons

104 notes · View notes

sashaisready · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Three - Hell if I know

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

Warning: PTSD/trauma response, Steve being cute

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 24

Series Masterlist

Thank-you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged and commented on this series! It means so much and I love hearing your thoughts!! Just two parts left now - to be posted tomorrow (13th Dec).

You had finally peeled yourself out of bed so Bucky could debrief his men after the events of last night. He’d shown you the ensuite bathroom and laid out some spare clothes so you didn’t need to put last night’s back on (you’d asked him to throw them out). He told you firmly to come downstairs and have some breakfast when you were ready. Not that you were particularly hungry, but after you’d protested he had shot you a warning look and you’d buckled – not wanting to put a dampener on the mood after your morning together.

It was easily the best shower of your life. Bucky’s guest bathroom was impressive, a huge walk in waterfall shower amongst brand new fittings and slate grey tiles. There were array of fancy toiletries on the shelf, each stylish bottle probably the same price as your monthly electric bill.

The water pressure was intense, you closed your eyes and allowed the hot water to wash everything away. You took your time washing your hair, taking care to scrub every inch of yourself and wipe away every trace of HYDRA and that night. Every speck of dust, blood, sweat.

You lost track of time as you enjoyed the feeling of the warm water on your skin. After washing your hair you took a moment to lean against the tiles, which proved to be a mistake.

You weren’t sure if it was the feel of the hard surface on your back but suddenly you were transported back to the attic in the warehouse, folding yourself into the corner and holding tight against the wall as you hid and waited in the dark. Your breaths became short and laboured as the room started to spin. The steam from the shower, once comforting and soothing, suddenly seemed stifling and threatening. Fear coursed through you as you were struck by the idea that there was someone in the bathroom with you, hiding within the steam, waiting for you, even though you knew the door was locked from the inside.

You were bent over double as you finally began to push through it. Eventually you managed to regulate your breathing and calm down, switching the water off and wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel as you cautiously moved to the door. Nobody there, of course, nobody in the bedroom either. You exhaled, taking a second to adjust. You had a feeling that wasn’t going to be a one off.

The bathroom was also generously stocked with toiletries - everything a guest might need including new toothbrushes and hair products. After making use of the deodorant and toothpaste you pulled on the clothes Bucky had left for you, navy blue sweat pants, a t-shirt and a large hoody - a pair of boxers too. Everything was too big for you but they were comfy, and they smelled like him too.

You gingerly left the room with your wet hair and borrowed clothing. No Scott guarding outside any more, the house seemed quiet. You crept down the stairs, once again in awe of Bucky’s home. You couldn’t believe anyone in New York had this much space, your shoebox apartment could fit in this floor alone several times over. Everything was modern and looked brand new, pristine white walls and immaculate floors. He must have a cleaning team working round the clock.

You didn’t see anyone as you went down the stairs, crossed the hall and made your way into the intimidatingly enormous kitchen. Nobody there either, just every food gadget you could ever imagine and a table big enough to host a small army. But you supposed that made sense, there seemed to be dozens of people here at any one time. You fantasised about baking there, using the state of the art food mixer and spreading everything out across the many surfaces - a world away from your tiny kitchen at home, where you huddled everything onto your meagre counter with your well-trodden mixer running on nothing but sheer force of will at this point.

You fought your way through the seemingly hundreds of cabinets to finally retrieve a cup and then moved on to trying to figure out the coffee machine. Unfortunately you seemed to need an engineering degree to work it, so hadn’t got very far when you heard someone come into the kitchen behind you.

“She’s awake! How are you today, cupcake?” A cheerful voice called out.

You whipped around to find Steve walking towards you, grinning. He was wearing a slick grey suit, looking every inch the part of second in command.

“Cupcake…? Oh, ‘cos I’m a baker…yeah I get it. Clever” you giggled, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not just a pretty face”. He shot you a wink as he moved to the coffee machine and started pressing buttons .

“She’s got a bit of a knack to her, just need to show her who’s boss and-“

The machine whirred to life and he turned to give you a satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Steve” you beamed back at him. “Where’s Bucky?”

“A little caught up - he’ll be back later. Sorry to say you’re stuck with me for now. So, what we having?”

He takes off his jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves. You blink at him for a moment before you realise he’s offering to make you breakfast.

“Steve…you don’t have to babysit me. I can make my own eggs” you chuckle.

“Eggs it is…”. He retrieves a carton from the fridge. “So how we doing this? Fried? Boiled? Scrambled? I can even poach if that’s what you’re into…”

“It’s fine…I can do it” you lightly scold him.

“Mmm sorry but I’m under strict orders here. So drink your coffee and tell me what how you like them before I pick for you” he says sternly.

“Fine. Scrambled, please. On toast” you sigh in defeat.

You feel uncomfortable being doted on like this. You’re very independent and used to taking care of yourself. This isn't you.

“Perfect. Let’s go” Steve replied, pulling out a pan and moving to the stove while he grabbed a loaf of sourdough.

“So is this how it all goes down every time?” You tease. “You distract the girls with breakfast the morning after, while Bucky makes a quick exit?”

Steve turns to you and grins. “This is the first time, actually”.

“Bullshit”.

“It is! Would you believe me if I told you most girls don’t even make it to breakfast?” He tells you wickedly.

“Wow, charming” you scoff.

“Well, Bucky knows you’ve had a rough night and asked me to take care of you” he admits earnestly. “You certainly keep him on his toes, cupcake”.

You blush at that, averting your eyes as you clutch your cup. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as Steve hums and cooks. The toast pops up, Steve plates up your meal and brings it over as you take a seat at the kitchen island.

“Thank you, Steve. This is very sweet of you”.

“Don’t thank me yet” he shoots back, waving a spatula warningly as he puts the pan in the sink. “I’m a bit rusty in the kitchen. This isn’t one of my usual duties…”

You laugh and take a bite, humming with happiness as you chew.

“Good, huh?”

“I mean it’s possibly because I haven’t eaten in like…seventeen hours? But yeah it’s really good, thank you”. You smile at him.

And you are grateful. As much as you don’t like people fussing over you, you can’t deny it’s nice to be cared for - particularly after the last twenty four hours. And you’re touched that Bucky is looking after you even when he’s not there.

“Oh almost forgot….” Steve leans over to where he put his jacket and reaches into the pocket. “We salvaged this for you. Case is a bit cracked but the screen seems okay”.

He throws you over your phone and you catch it, thanking him. You unlock the screen and see a few messages. One from Wanda asking how your date went, another from Peter saying he enjoyed hanging out and you should do it again sometime (platonically of course). You reply to Peter with some non-committal enthusiasm and tell Wanda you’ll call her later as you have lots to tell her. It feels strange that their world is just carrying on as usual around you, while yours had changed forever in a matter of hours. Pepper also let you know she’d offered the Assistant job to the top candidate and was waiting to hear back.

You see the texts HYDRA sent on your behalf and the reply from Bucky and hastily delete them before you can fully react to them, wishing you could remove your memories just as easily.

“So you and Buck…” Steve questioned warily.

“Me and Buck what…?” you ask as if you don’t know what he’s implying.

“What’s your deal? Are you actually together now?”

You shrug animatedly as you eat your breakfast. “You probably know more than I do…”

And that’s the truth. You have no idea what is going on with you two as you hadn’t discussed it. Yes, he gallantly came to your rescue (although he was somewhat morally obligated as he was the reason you needed saving…) and yes you’d slept together again…but nothing had been explicitly said between you. From your perspective…you felt like something had shifted between you now. You knew in your heart wanted to be with Bucky. Really wanted to be with him. Despite his flaws, despite everything that had happened. You were still cautious but nonetheless drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to stay away. It was hard to imagine your life without him now.

Steve laughs and shoots you a ‘Hell if I know…’ look.

“Steve…” you ask cautiously as your fork plays with the last of your toast. “What did you mean when you said I keep Bucky on his toes?”

He chuckles. “C’mon cupcake, you know exactly what I meant”.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment and you feel yourself flush as you finish your final bites. Steve picks up your empty plate and takes it to the dishwasher.

“All I’m saying is he’s got it bad” Steve continues as he cleans up. “There’s a reason I’m standing here cooking for you”.

You nod, finishing your coffee as his words sink in.

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

133 notes · View notes

parth0238u · 1 year ago

Text

#cargo pants for men #white cargo pants #cream cargo pants #cargo pants and t shirt #straight fit cargo pants #stylish cargo pants #formal pants #Tistabene

0 notes

twopoppies · 7 months ago

Note

"""normal-guy era"""", I can't believe they can write those kinds of articles, they're trying to say that Harry wasn't "normal" before, was he an alien? and the number of likes ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

https://x.com/wewerebraverOTB/status/1830581324912169166?t=Xt63rs1RdFtgTwdL7MFpEw&s=19

I think the OP is good intentioned, and some of the article is a bit icky (he’s always been daddy, but now he’s dad, the comment about Liberace, and the use of the word “normal” especially). And it sounds like the author dismisses the fact that all of Harry’s eras were trend setting—even the flamboyant ones (how many men are still wearing Pearl necklaces today?).

Also, comparing every day outfits to his stage outfits, or what he wore when he was 16 or 20, is just silly. He’s dressed casually in his off hours for years. It’s just now it seems to be a “trend” (which really is the point of the article). But I think it’s a little hyperbolic to say it’s homophobic/transphobic.

[…] This is Harry we’re talking about, so of course he’ll never look like your average man, but his early-30s normal-guy era is as close as he’s ever been. Open-collared shirts and wayfarers at an England match. Some shorts and battered Sambas in Soho, London. A big Umbro hoodie, white socks and aviator shades on the streets of Primrose Hill. In fact, if you were to look at any of Harry’s big fits in 2024, they wouldn’t look out of place on any 30-something guy with a model-influencer girlfriend, a predilection for Lime bikes and a tab at The Spurstowe Arms. This is Harry at peak internet-boyfriend-slash-sports-dad, with a not-quite mullet and some kind of neutral oversized sweater hastily thrown on. Just like Jeremy Allen White and Paul Mescal, he has become slacker hot personified.

[…] While Harry spends less time in LA these days, his look is very 90210: the sort of incognito style that men tend to go for once they reach a certain level of fame and wealth and just want to knock around Erewhon in Beverly Hills all day. It’s supposed to help them blend in, but also: not really? Because if you spot someone in designer shades and a “covert” hoodie while paps hide in the bushes nearby, you’re going to assume they’ve got at least three properties with infinity pools and a lengthy IMDB profile.

[…] At 30, he wears pressed cotton shirts, spends time in Rome and watches golf tournaments. While he’s always given off daddy energy, he’s now also giving off dad: someone who reverses a car with one arm and likes to be in charge of the barbecue tongs. And it’s working for him. Not everyone can get away with wearing a mega-worn band tee and half-destroyed Vans – but Harry isn’t everyone. He could wear a bin-bag and sliders and still appear stylish. “Normal” looks so good on him because he’s not normal; he has a face sculpted by the Gods and a £50 million real estate portfolio.

[…] I’m sure that, come his next LP or Michele’s first proper Valentino collection in September, Harry will launch himself into another daring fashion phase. There will come a point when he needs to make a red-carpet appearance, or attend the Grammys, and only something Liberace-esque will do. Until then, though, let’s just appreciate the vibe of this 30-year-old man in Adidas trainers, short shorts and slightly greying sports socks for what it is: a masterpiece.

Link to the full article

#fashion icon Harry #British Vogue

6 notes · View notes

manic-maniac-man · 3 months ago

Text

HUgE November 2012

Wism (World's interesting souvenir market)

As you climb the stairs from the first floor, you will find Greg Lauren's latest work standing tall.

"Convenience stores are very Tokyo-esque in a way, aren't they? And souvenirs make customers want to buy things no matter where they are. I thought it would be interesting to incorporate that same idea into fashion."

Located along Cat Street, which connects Harajuku, the first thing you'll see when you enter the shop is a coffee stand attached to the cash register. Here, you can order a delicious specialty coffee from Karuizawa's Maruyama to take away. Next to it are stylish miscellaneous goods such as carefully selected gardening tools, kitchen tools such as Ryukyu Garden tableware, stationery such as vintage Western key chains and Ifield notebooks, and shot glass candles.

The back of the store is lined with skateboarding and graffiti related items such as BIRD's Thrasher T-shirt of Mark Gonzales skating in a prison, and a rare art book by Jail Johnston depicting Daniel Sheen. On the second floor, there is a full lineup of men's fashion, both domestic and foreign, from popular import brands such as Greg Lauren and Umit to established domestic brands such as White Mountaineering. The more than 1,000 items are 100% purchased products, which is rare for a select shop these days, with no original items except for those ordered exclusively for the shop.

#my scans #fashion #archive fashion #avantgarde #2010s fashion #artisanal #greg lauren

3 notes · View notes

nuttyloveballoon · 3 months ago

Text

Style Forward: Discover the Most Current Crazes in Guy's Tee shirts

Introduction

In the world of fashion, fads come and go, yet one point continues to be constant: the significance of a well-fitted, stylish tee shirt. Guy's shirts are a staple in every man's wardrobe, and they have actually developed throughout the years to reflect the ever-changing fashion landscape. From t-shirts to dress shirts, there is a wide variety of alternatives offered to match every event and individual style.

The Advancement of Guy's Shirts The Increase of T-Shirts: A Casual Staple

T-shirts have actually come a lengthy means from being simply an undergarment. They have actually become a style declaration in their very own right, with many styles and styles available. Whether you like a plain white tee or a visuals print, t-shirts offer comfort and convenience for day-to-day wear.

Sports T-shirts: Incorporating Design and Functionality

Sports shirts have acquired popularity in the last few years for their capability to effortlessly transition from workout sessions to casual trips. Made from moisture-wicking materials, these shirts maintain you awesome and comfortable while still looking fashionable. With brand names like Nike and Adidas blazing a trail, sports shirts have ended up being a must-have product for guys that value both trademama shirts style and performance.

Dress T-shirts: Classic Elegance

Dress tee shirts are a timeless selection for official events or professional settings. With their crisp collars and tailored fit, these t-shirts exude refinement and refinement. From traditional white dress shirts to vibrant patterns and colors, there is a gown t shirt for each man's taste. Match it with a customized suit or gown it down with chinos for a much more relaxed look.

Shirts Gowns: The Perfect Blend of Femininity and Masculinity

Shirt gowns have actually gotten appeal among both males and females for their convenience and uncomplicated design. These oversized t shirts can be used as outfits or paired with tights or denims for a much more casual look. With their loose fit and comfy material, tee shirt outfits are best for those that want to accept a gender-neutral style trend.

Home T shirts: Comfy Loungewear

Home t shirts, additionally referred to as loungewear or rest t shirts, are developed for best comfort. Made from soft fabrics like cotton or flannel, these tee shirts are ideal for relaxing in the house or getting a great night's sleep. With their loosened fit and breathable material, home shirts offer the perfect equilibrium in between design and comfort.

Polo T-shirts: A Traditional Choice

Polo shirts have actually been a closet staple for guys for years. Recognized for their collars and buttoned placket, these tee shirts use an even more polished look than t-shirts while still keeping a laid-back vibe. Available in a wide range of colors and patterns, polo shirts can be spruced up or down relying on the occasion.

Denim Shirts: A Casual and Trendy Option

Denim tee shirts have actually ended up being significantly prominent over the last few years for their sturdy yet fashionable allure. Whether used alone or layered over a t-shirt, denim shirts add a touch of easygoing elegance to any type of outfit. Pair them with denims for a double denim look or outfit them up with chinos for a more refined ensemble.

Men's T-Shirts: Versatile and Trendy

Men's t-shirts can be found in numerous s

youtube

#Youtube

2 notes · View notes

sideshowkaz · 1 year ago

Text

Hart shaped things.

I have this odd mild loathing of heart shaped things. It’s the twee side of it and how cute they can be. That single heart shaped pretty necklace thats supposed to signal love to everyone around feels like there’s horrible under tones to me.

I got to see little girls like me wear those lovely little pendants as the only decoration they were allowed because too much was too much and the church didn’t like over doing it. Little girls with their hearts overflowing with innocent love.

Children at eight years old being made to make a covenant when they still hadn’t grown out of that cute stage. Boys and girls both not knowing what they got into.

They grew to twelve years old and boys got the kind of power in the church where they had more power in their little finger than their grandmothers will ever have or have had.

Lessons with undertones of punishment though teens that men are men and women are women. Each needing to act accordingly and dress accordingly. Those heart shaped pendants for the ones that noticed became like weights around our necks dragging us down. We had to appear feminine enough and cute and unthreatening enough. God didn’t want women acting like men. I didn’t want ether. Into my teen years I was being told I had to wear makeup and stylish clothing. Women needed to look just nice enough to be interesting to men but not to interesting. You have to be feminine enough to attract a good man but also men are the huge monsters in ally ways and car parks. Men were the enemy you had to let into your life and run it because god said so. It wasn’t who I was. Hearts began to signify that forever innocence women were supposed to have. They were worn like shields against gods wrath just in case a woman were to show a bit of strength or stand up for themselves. But they were never worn much only just enough. Women had to be modest and cover enough of themselves that their bodies felt foreign to them and didn’t belong to them but show enough to show they were still ladies.

And then I got to see adult women after years of having men run their lives tired and sick. All being told they aren’t bringing enough children into the world wile they had so many they didn’t keep track of the ones they had. They worried they couldn’t do enough with ‘populating the earth’ which terrified me. All that modesty enforced with garments so now the church dictates and mandates under clothes.

Then much older women beaten down and unable to fight back every time a man spoke or communicate what they want because men run things to them. Some were obviously abused and some were willing submissive.

But wile all this was going on I was told I was a special spirit and I’d never find a man anyway unless he was the bottom of the pile. The meat market of young single adults never interested me. I wasn’t the best looking, I was disabled to the point I couldn’t just try to be better and somehow look normal to the right guy. Men and women were forced into roles that made them interchangeable in so many ways. Faith in god was supposedly all you needed for a good marriage. What was left as far as characteristics went for anyone to pick what they wanted from? Appearance. Ugly girls got treated with pity. Ugly girls like me. I was told I could fix it if I basically wasn’t me.

It all started with a heart symbol that even people out of the church wear but to me I can’t separate it off from outdated hairstyles, being made to keep my ‘natural’ hair colour, no other subjects being ok but bitching about the unfaithful, skirts you can’t run in but you have to wear them anyway, not being allowed to wear certain colours because they are too bright or give the wrong message, white T-shirts under anything that showed of shoulders or collarbones, lace up to the neck to the point of being choking, not being able to stand up for myself when I need to, being told I couldn’t stand out in any way in my own community but to outsiders I had to look a certain type of strange, being told I had to keep pure but if a priesthood holder said something I better listen even if it wasn’t a good idea, not being allowed to be me but having to be some image of a woman that everyone else wanted me to be, seeing men as both saviours i needed to get into heaven and the demons we were meant to fear and if we showed off our knees men would go from one straight to the other.

The overly cuteness of the little heart symbol jewellery was a part of femininity I never resonated with and for a long time because of that I felt like I was nothing. Now I know there’s just nothing for me in a church that only allowed me one way to express myself and kept telling me what myself was when it wasn’t that at all.

#exmo #exmormon

8 notes · View notes