#don of course is more fashion minded and dresses them

[leisi-lilacdreams]

obsessed with the background lore of En Passant by @alicat54c and @amevello-blue where leo and don are high ranking respected members of the hidden city and have taken on the job of protectors of it

basically generals

the fic isn't about that (it's also a sequel so please read both 🙏) it's about child weapons and sudden dads figuring out a new normal with lots of cute family stuff but the "blink and you'll miss it" little tidbit of lore got me in a chokehold OTL

zoomed in details under cut

[heartsformars]

Hi! Can you please do the ramshackle trio, which are Skipp, Vinnie & Stone with a fem s/o who comes from the rich. Unlike the rich people, she doesn't seem the poor as inferior but human beings. She EXTREMELY SHY & doesn't know how to talk to people but she is kind & gentls as you get to know her. Plus she possesses an angelic beauty & a good singer. Sorry if this request is long.

Her outfit is this:

Heaven is missing an angel… ramshackle trio x fem! shy! Reader

A/N: Hi, I don't know if you wanted them separately or together but I wrote them separately because it is more comfortable for me to write them this way, but if you want me to write them again there is no problem

TW: stealing and gambling mentioned, bad jokes, vinnie being vinnie… again

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SKIPP

-You share his musical taste and he loves that! -He'll probably play songs for you while you sing, although if you're a little embarrassed he won't force you to. - you and him would definitely be that kind of duo where one talks more than the other. On any given date skipp would probably be telling his fifth story of the day or telling you about the things he likes while you just listen while sipping tea or coffee (or whatever drink you like). -He doesn't care if you're shy, he'll always be sure to give you a push to encourage you to talk to more people. -Even if it doesn't always work out and ends up being a disaster he will always be there to cheer you up at the end of the day. -he LOVES your fashion style. -probably mentioned it to you several times but you never knew how to respond in a coherent way. -until one day you gave him an outfit that matched yours -and he LOVES it -you probably always see him in those clothes when you go on dates and he'll make sure they don't get torn or damaged too much. -will always be sure to keep the things you give him in good condition. -although vinnie has accidentally pawned a few of them -from that time on all the gifts you give him will be kept with a "Do not touch" note.

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STONE

-probably won't think much of your shyness at first. -however, later on he may have doubts about it, he will not ask tho -he won't admit it but your voice relaxes him too much. After a crappy day he probably ends up falling asleep when you're asking him how his day was. -He denies affection too much, so when you give him things as gifts he'll act like he's not interested or even kind of annoyed that you spent money on him. (but you can see him smiling as he turns away.) -he's definitely a softie out of that whole "I'm not interested in other people" shell, so don't feel bad when he acts aloof, he just doesn't know how to express how much he appreciates you. -he never really cared about the way you dressed, it was nice and fancy like all the other rich people in ramshackle. -although if you give him a suit that matches yours he won't mind at all. -he probably won't wear it often, but he'll always keep it in a place where it won't get dirty or broken by rats. -he has flaws, of course, but you still love your sadboi no matter what.

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VINNIE

"Ermm excuse me, she asked for no pickles" ahh relationship 💀💀💀 -But no kidding, I feel like vinnie wouldn't pick up much that you're shy, you're just more reserved. -so don't be surprised when you find her shouting out things that you consider embarrassing but (according to her) are normal. -although obviously if you tell her someday she'll try to stop doing it, although it still gets away from her sometimes -Another person who LOVES your voice, whether it's a date or they're just hanging out, will encourage you to sing something just to hear you. -probably always admitting to liking your voice while you're dying of embarrassment. -Vinnie doesn't take hints very well. -I mean, outside of the basic secret steal signals if you tell her something like "the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?" she'll probably be like "yeah uh-huh." -although she'll start to pick up on them eventually, don't worry, she learns fast. -just like stone I feel like at first he didn't pay much attention to the way you were dressed, but she thought it was cute -I feel she wouldn't like wearing dresses so much, it's not comfortable to steal with those things on. -but if you give her one, she will try to wear it on occasions to look more decent, especially on dates. -although she would keep it in a special place with the other things you gave her as a present. -at first skipp and stone were hesitant to see her wearing so many expensive things -suspecting if she'd gotten lucky ripping off gamblers or if she'd stolen something REALLY expensive -although eventually they will realize it’s just her fancy gf giving her gifts

-and they’re fine with it until it’s practically vinnie drowning them out by mentioning you even before they go to sleep

-“oh and y/n is very cute and-“ AND you have stone covering himself (what is supposed to be) a pillow and skipp just telling her very politely that he wants to sleep

-but at the end of the day she’s happy with you, no matter what

—bye this actually took me so long is embarrassing but I didn’t have much time to write so SORRY!! But I have more free time so ig I’m just gonna finish some hcs & oneshots that I just left there lol

[redara]

Sub-Mission

Pairings: Áila Hávarôr / Bi-Han / Tenshikiri Jun Ratings: Explicit Words: 6.418 Tags: F/M/F, Sub-Bi-Han, Toys Summary: Bi-Han admits, he appreciates strong, influential women. AU - canon divergence. Sets in the current timeline, post-MK1, in the AU where everyone agrees for a truce in order to prepare for potential timeline Invaders.

A/N: also posted on AO3. Áila Hávarôr belongs to @tazahan . Tenshikiri Jun belongs to me. Special thanks, Taza, for the discussion about our girls! :3

The threat of invaders from other timelines is still looming over. It is not a simple matter; all sides are wary of each other, cautious for another ‘Damashi’ to trick them. The growing tension is becoming too palpable that Liu Kang, as the Protector of Earthrealm and the former Keeper of Time, has decided to call for a truce. And such a decision is immediately welcomed, at least for now.

Upon entering the Wu Shi Academy, Bi-Han tries, and fails, to hide his disgust. Why, of all places, must the meeting be held here? He strides to the main hall, not bothering to look at his surroundings; Sektor and Cyrax are following dutifully, dressed in their red and yellow mech-armor, sans the helmets.

As expected, the main hall is already packed with familiar faces. Bi-Han glances daggers at Kuai Liang and Tomas, the former who is still donning yellow, and accompanied by his Shirai wife, Harumi. Surprisingly, it is Tomas who gives a small nod to Bi-Han, either out of habit or respect, Bi-Han doesn’t bother to care. He only wants to find a spot in the background where no one can sneak up and stab him – given the glares he receives, there are plenty with such a wish.

He finds a place by a bookshelf, where there are two unfamiliar women standing. One is a voluptuous woman with short orange hair, dressed in black techwear-style outfit; crop-hoodie with intricate silver pattern, cargo pants, and red and white sneakers; she is crossing her arms under her ample chest. The other woman has jet black hair tied up in a bun, dressed in a dark teal kimono, and she is shorter than the first woman. Neither of them look familiar, or important , so Bi-Hand decides to not give them any mind, and stands in the space in front of them.

“Great, now we have a wall in front of us.”

“Jun –” the Orange-Haired woman immediately adds when Bi-Han turns around, “-- sorry, sorry , she doesn’t mean you –”

“Of course not.” The Teal-Dressed woman feigns a smile. “Please, resume standing there, Áila and I are only wallflowers after all.”

Bi-Han frowns at the sarcasm, “If you are short , you should be aware not to stand in the back.”

“Yes, apologies. Clearly, we should have brought stepladders to this meeting.”

The Orange-Haired woman, Áila, looks apologetic for the Teal-Dressed woman, Jun, who looks annoyingly smug. Bi-Han could reply, in fact, he wants to, but he’d rather not add two more people to the list of ‘people who want to kill him’, so he opts to ignore them – which has proven difficult, now that they’re muttering behind his back.

Liu Kang finally begins the meeting, fashionably late, as usual. The Fire God still looks the same since the last time Bi-Han saw him, though now he looks rather tired, if a God can be tired… “Thank you for sparing your time for this important meeting. I hope this won’t be the only time we are standing together, as there is strength in number, and solidarity. I understand some of you have different goals, clashing goals, and I appreciate it that you are setting aside your differences to fight a common enemy – The Invaders.”

Does he ever stop talking? Bi-Han sighs quietly as Liu Kang goes on a lecture about the current situation; how another Titan has been spotted invading other timelines, and it’s only a matter of time before they come to this one; how the Shirai Ryu (Bi-Han grunts at the name) have agreed to set aside their rivalry with the Lin Kuei; and how Quan Chi and Shang Tsung have agreed to ‘play nice’ for once as to not have Empress Mileena and her court hunt them down. All the boring details that could have been summarized in a written note, instead of calling for a meeting.

But then Liu Kang concludes, “Before I forget, we have two additional guests here. They may not have been involved in our latest kombat, but they are of powerful clans seeking to maintain the peace and alliance. Uh –” he looks around the room, so uncharacteristically confused as he scans the faces of everyone. Somehow Bi-Han has the feelings that the two thorns behind him are the ones Liu Kang is searching for –

Aaand he is right, when Jun speaks up aloud, “We’re here, Lord Liu Kang.”

Now all eyes turn towards Bi-Han, seemingly judging him for blocking the two guests, and he steps aside before anyone could ask him to. Liu Kang smiles, “Ah, there you are. Everyone, let me introduce you to Áila Hávarôr, future chieftain of the Sól Eldur clan. Her clan has been a dear friend, and their inventions have helped keep Earthrealm safe for centuries.”

Áila gives a respectful salute to Liu Kang and the room, “Pleased to meet you.”

Liu Kang continues, “And Tenshikiri Jun, the current Head of the Tenshikiri family. Once a clan serving the Empire as Spymaster, they are now oath-bound as secret keepers of Earthrealm.”

Jun bows deeply, before standing straight and replies, “It’s an honor to be here.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Áila, Lady Jun. As per our agreement, the two of you shall join forces with the Lin Kuei, in hope the three of you can come up with a battle plan if the Invader does invade our timeline.” Liu Kang gestures at Bi-Han, “Please, look no further than to your right, and you’ll find Bi-Han, the esteemed Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.”

Áila casts a bright, carefree smile, “Ah, yes, we’ve been, uhm, acquainted.”

“With his back.” Jun mutters under her breath.

“If you’d like to step closer to the table, I’m sure we still have more space by the Champions.” Liu Kang gestures to the four Earthrealm Champions who are standing side by side.

Bi-Han watches as Áila and Jun accept the offer; they walk with their heads held high, and a formal smile on their faces. But he doesn’t miss the small glance they throw at him as they walk past him, one of curiosity and interest, both pairs of eyes locking with his dark brown ones. And in that single moment, Bi-Han can’t figure out why he is annoyed in the first place.

***

In the next few days and weeks, however, Bi-Han finds himself growing more annoyed than usual. At least now he’s back in the Lin Kuei compound, a familiar place devoid of judgmental people, and back on his routine as the Grandmaster. He’s sitting behind his desk in his office, reading the reports gathered by his Lin Kuei regarding the two unfamiliar clans he didn’t know existed prior to the meeting in Wu Shi Academy. Both the Sól Eldur and the Tenshikiri clans show promises and great rapports, in fact, they have been so secretive in assisting Earthrealm that the Lin Kuei have not needed to cross paths with them before.

Perhaps it should have stayed that way , for now he keeps seeing the names of Áila and Jun in every document, and his heart sinks a bit deeper each time. There is something about those two. Perhaps it’s the fact that Áila and her clan are blessed by the power of the sun and can torch the Earth if given the opportunity, yet they choose to remain pacifists for all these years. Perhaps it’s the fact that Jun and her family know every little secret in the world, but still keep them despite being capable of using them for their own gain.

Two beautiful women of powerful clans, commanding forces under their leadership – so why does it bother Bi-Han so much?

Perhaps it’s the fact that Áila’s voluminous chest would jiggle enticingly with every little move she makes – even the action of going downstairs becomes such a lewd display, that Bi-Han has tried so hard to focus on her face entirely. Perhaps it’s how Jun’s curvy hips would sway when she walks – Bi-Han doesn’t know if he enjoys the sight of her approaching or leaving. Perhaps it’s the way both of them would look at him, a mixture of coy and playful, like waves on the sand, enticing him to come closer into the sea to drown him.

And he hates to admit it, but by the Gods, some days he wants to step into the figurative sea and drown.

The door to his office is knocked. Bi-Han shakes his head to clear out the thoughts of Áila and Jun completely; he clears his throat, and gruffly responds, “Come in.”

Just his luck, the two burdens of his mind enter his office; they carry themselves in their own personal grace, like the sun and the moon, and Bi-Han suddenly feels like the dark space they accompany.

“Good evening.” He greets Áila and Jun, watching as they begin to occupy the space of his office. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Bi-Han is not sure who he has to watch; Jun is observing the line of decorative weapons on the wall, hips swaying with each step that she takes; Áila stands in front of his desk with her hands in the pockets of her cargo pants, shifting from one foot to another, and with each movement, her chest heaves. His attention finally settles on Áila as she speaks, “We’d like to say thank you for allowing us to stay with the Lin Kuei for this unforeseeable future. We understand it must be difficult to let strangers into your home, and we thank you for your trust, and – uhm…” she looks away, still shifting on her feet.

“And we trust you in return.” Jun adds without looking away from the decorative weapons.

“Right. I had that on the top of my head.” Áila looks at Bi-Han again, though now he notices a slight pink hue on her cheeks. “Uh… We just want to say that we trust you, and we feel that you do too, I mean, we are allies and – Jun, I can’t do this. You’re the one who’s good with words.”

Jun turns to her, “Why, you were doing great before that.”

“Oh, come on…”

The exchange raises both alarm and confusion in Bi-Han that he’s not certain on how to respond except, “What are you two blabbering about?”

Áila cocks her head towards Jun, “We have a point, I promise, but she will explain it.”

Bi-Han raises an eyebrow at the said woman, “Well? You’re talking about hospitality and trust, I don’t think I’d extend either if you two are acting weird in front of me.”

With a sigh, Jun begins to make her way to his desk; even paced, calculated movement, almost like a dance. “We intended to make this as refined as possible, but crass will have to do, given your attitude. We’re saying that we’re not blind, Bi-Han.”

“Who said you are?”

“We noticed your stare. I am a Tenshikiri, I’m trained to read the subtlest body language, and yours is loud.” Jun stops next to Áila. With both women looking at him intently, Bi-Han finds his heart beats a bit faster. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice your heated gaze on my hips? Or your ogling of Áila’s massive tits?” Áila nudges Jun’s side, but she continues. “We’re all adults here, so let us talk like adults, shall we? If my observation is incorrect, tell me so, and we will offer you our apology, take our leave from your office, and we shall continue our days like this has never happened. So, would you like to admit it, or deny it, Grandmaster?”

The shame growing in the pit of Bi-Han’s chest makes him feel like a hormonal teenager again, and he tries to suppress it, even though his face feels a bit warmer than usual. Gripping the armrests of his chair, his fingertips layered by ice in hope to quell his emotions. He glances between the two women, heat begins to consume him inside out, just like the urge to be honest or to lie to save face.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Bi-Han heaves a heavy sigh, body slumping against his chair. “How astute. Forgive me for having a keen sense of observation. You should feel safe within these walls. But,” he adds sharply, “I merely admired what your hard work has bestowed upon your physique. I’d be foolish if I did not notice them entirely.”

Jun glances at Áila. There is a smirk shared between them, and Bi-Han swears he sees a mischievous glint in their eyes, one that he doesn’t expect to see from them. Jun starts, “I told you. My skill is impeccable.”

Áila’s pink cheeks grow redder, “So you said. Now what?”

“Now it’s our turn to be honest. You do it.”

“Fine…” Áila groans, before schooling her expression into a decent one, albeit still holds mischief behind her smile. “We – ahem – we’ve also been ‘observing’ your hard work. We think it’s impressive, worthy of many praises – you are possibly the most beautiful man we’ve ever seen. Don’t laugh!” She chides as Jun snickers into her palm.

The cogs in Bi-Han’s mind fall into places, and oh… they’ve been ogling me as well? Them? Both of them? There is a cracking sound coming from his armrests, where his ice has taken form and completely ruined the fine wood, but he doesn’t care for that for now. These two women who have occupied his thoughts just confessed that they have been looking at him as well, and – and now what?

“Ah… Thank you.” is what Bi-Han can manage, for deep inside, his desire grows and he doesn’t wish it to be known, not when Áila is blushing so adorably, and he wonders if she’ll blush the same shade of her hair – does the hair below matches the hair above? – and certainly not when Jun is undressing him with her eyes, and he wonders what kind of expression she will give when she breaks underneath him – 

Bi-Han huffs an icy breath. The display earns the attention of the two women. He is the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. He is the infamous Sub-Zero who is widely known and respected. He can handle the toughest enemies and the hardest of battle, certainly he can handle two lustful creatures.

“Since the cats are out of the bag,” He begins, heart pounding harder and steadily, watching Áila and Jun’s response, “and since we are adults who are capable of being responsible for our own… desire, let me ask what do you have in mind?”

“Perhaps we should foster our alliances deeper .” Áila glances between Jun and him.

“Nothing better than showing the naked truth to foster trust.” Jun purrs. “And you? What does the Grandmaster want?”

Bi-Han can’t help the pull on the corner of his lips, or the growing need in the restraint of his pants, or how he thinks how adorable that these two women are acting like they are in control of the outcome. But he welcomes their heated gaze nonetheless, as he gives his reply, “Do whatever you wish to me.”

***

The cold bedroom gradually grows hotter with each layer of clothing that’s being shed. Bi-Han admires how both Áila and Jun are not holding back from their desire, and neither is he; he interrupts Áila from undoing her bra by pulling her for a kiss – she moans, partially in protest of his colder lips, but she complies and melts into his touch, arching into his palm that’s kneading at one of her breasts. They feel heavy and full and soft, and Gods , Bi-Han wants to bury his face in between them.

A small chuckle is heard behind him, and he parts from Áila to find Jun, already in her naked glory, approaching the bed with a small box in hand. Bi-Han grows curious, “What is that?”

“This?” Jun shakes the box lightly. Whatever’s inside sounds heavy. “It’s something pleasurable, I promise.”

He is not convinced. He approaches her, silently demanding to see the content.

She clicks her tongue, “Mm… Such impatience.” She opens the box, and just as she has said, the variety of toys stored within make Bi-Han’s dick twitch in reaction. Jun takes out a large vibrator, “Would this be too much to handle? We can start with the – UNF.”

Her challenging tone dies down when Bi-Han silences her with a kiss. Her shaky breath is a reaction to his cold tongue, and she mewls when he palms her breasts – they are significantly smaller than Áila’s, but he enjoys her hardening nipples, how she jumps as he pinches them to attention.

A warm hand holds his lower back. Áila hums, “I believe you said we are to do whatever we want with you?”

Bi-Han swallows thickly, did I? Oh, right, I did. “Fine.” He grumbles internally, climbing into the bed to settle in the center. His erection is straining against his boxer brief, too tight, twitching in excitement as Áila and Jun are standing at the foot of the bed, observing him. The warm light of the room accentuating the beauty of their naked bodies, the curves and dips, the colors and marks, the perfect imperfections.

When he finally removes his boxer brief, his erection springs free and heavily, and he swears he hears both women gasp. Their reaction pumps his pride – he is not stupid, years of training have sculpted his body into a perfect weapon, but also given him an impressive physique – so he lies there with a smirk, hand holding the base of his thick length, and he watches Áila and Jun’s eyes widening.

“Truly an asset –”

“-- befitting a Grandmaster.”

They finish each other's sentences.

Without wasting any time, the bed dips when Áila and Jun begin to climb up to lie beside him. Áila is to his right, and Jun is to his left, and both are on their sides with their breasts pressing against him. Bi-Han curls his arms around them, cupping their breasts, earning their shared moanings.

Jun holds his chin, pulling him for a kiss; tongues and teeth clashing; he holds her breast a bit firmer, milking a moan. He feels Áila kissing his chest, and her hand is roaming up and down his sculpted abs, nails lightly scratching his sensitive skin, making him buck slightly. He wishes her touch would glide lower to his aching cock that’s waiting for attention, but she is taking her sweet time kissing and nibbling and marking him.

The kiss ends when Jun decides it does; she turns his chin towards Áila, where Bi-Han finds her looking at him with such a bright smile, and so sweetly she holds his cheek. Her kiss is slow and steady; their tongues moving in tandem against each other. It’s intoxicating, that Bi-Han fails to notice what Jun is doing until he feels her finger on the tip of his cock.

“Mmh…” He hums into Áila’s mouth as Jun teases his cockhead. The light touch is experimental, but by the Gods, does it feel damning. He grunts when his slit is teased, rubbed rather vigorously, gathering the little precum that’s leaking.

Jun’s hand leaves him, but Áila’s replaced it, holding the base of his cock with just enough pressure for him to feel her warmth. She begins to pump him, up and down, slowly, gently, earning an involuntary buck of his hips.

Bi-Han parts from the kiss to breathe. Eyes closing, he’s savoring the feeling, throat humming in reaction. “Mm… That’s it…”

“Does it feel good?” Áila hushedly asks, head pressing against his chest.

Bi-Han can only hum, but he shows his appreciation by squeezing the breasts of both women; the soft squishy of Áila’s and the perkiness of Jun’s. He is enjoying the movement, the warmth, every little thing that makes his cock twitch happily and he’s growing harder and harder and –

A soft hum joins the shared breathing in the room, and the next thing he feels is a steady vibration pressed against the underside of his cockhead. He opens his eyes and looks down, seeing Áila holding the base of his cock steadily, while Jun is pressing a vibrator to his cockhead; the tip is buzzing, blurring. Bi-Han rasps, “What are – ngh –”

“We are making ice cream.” Áila replies in a sing-song tune, still smiling brightly.

Jun moves the vibrator up and down his cockhead; Bi-Han bites back a yelp when she presses it over his slit, “This is the slowest setting. Let’s see how long it takes for you to come.”

Bi-Han grits his teeth, “Insolent maidens… Is that – mmh – a challenge?”

“You can back down whenever you want, you know.”

The vibrator is pulled away, and though Bi-Han sighs in relief, his cock twitches involuntarily, missing the sensation. Áila giggles, “Seems your dick wants more.” She moves her hand up to the tip – he bucks and grunts – and she gathers the precum, smearing it down his length. She repeats the action two more times before settling back to holding the base. “You have to use your words, Bi-Han.”

Jun moves the vibrator closer, and Bi-Han watches, partially in want and partially in dread, as the silicone tip is inching closer to his twitching cockhead. She hums appreciatively, “Ooh are you shy? You’re blushing so adorably.”

“Quiet.” Bi-Han growls. “You want to do whatever to me, do it, quit wasting time – NNGH –” a whine escapes his throat when the vibrator is pressed to its previous position again. The sudden sensation makes his core muscle clench, making him more aware of the feeling, how it tickles in a good way.

To make it worse, Áila is now moving her hand, shallow pump, steady and firm, and Bi-Han could only throw his head back. His legs are shaking, and the two devious women have taken the liberty to wrap their warm legs around each of his thigh; he can feel their heat and wetness, clearly they are also aroused by the activity. He tries to buck, but they keep their hold steady.

Then, the vibrator is pulled away again.

Bi-Han grunts in annoyance, but the women are laughing, and he is in no position to demand when his cock is oozing precum and twitching on its own, when his balls feel so tight and full, ready to burst whenever. “Get on with it.”

“You want to come?” Jun asks, and he can hear her smirk.

“Of course.” He opens his eyes, finding her observing his face. But his eyelids are fluttering to a close when Áila kisses his strained neck, and soon he is lost in the sensation of being teased, hot and cold, fast and slow.

The vibrator returns with a raised power. Bi-Han can’t help the bucking of his hips, the twitching of his cock – he is close, so close, it feels so good, so good, so good – mmhhh!

The sound that he makes is something he doesn’t know he’s capable of; a pathetic mewling, a moaning. Bi-Han pants aloud when the vibrator leaves him again, so close to the bliss, but so far away. He grips the breasts tightly, warningly, but it only earns Áila and Jun’s shared giggle. Though the sound annoys him, it also melts him, knowing they are having fun at the expense of his demise.

“Once more for good measure?” Áila asks tentatively.

“No. No.” Bi-Han shakes his head, eyes closed tightly. “You’ve been denying me release. It’s unfair.”

“Unfair is going back on your words – you said ‘whatever we want’.” Jun turns the vibrator off. The lack of humming sound in the room alarms Bi-Han. “What do you say, Áila? Do you think we should continue or not?”

Áila chuckles, “You’re cruel.”

“ Fine .” Bi-Han repeats with a loud huff. “Fine… Do it.”

Just as the words leave his lips, the vibrator is returns to its position, yet it’s not on. He waits, anticipating, but he’s not expecting two pairs of lips pressing a kiss to his cheeks. His eyes flutter open, just in time to see both Áila and Jun hovering over him with smiles gracing their beautiful faces.

“Such a handsome man…” Áila praises.

“A good Grandmaster…” Jun adds. “Here is your reward.”

The vibrator turns on at the highest setting; Bi-Han growls deeply and throws his head back, eyes clenched shut, as he feels all of his nerves are alight. Áila and Jun hum as they’re settling their heads on his chest. The muttered praises are muffled by his own grunting, his complaints and singing of arousal. Áila moves her hand again, at the same time Jun rubs the vibrator all over his cockhead, and the combined action defeats him completely.

“C-close –” Bi-Han rasps for no reason.

His orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, pulling him under the bliss, that all he can feel is the twitching of his cock as Áila and Jun are milking him; thick sperms shooting out of him, painting his abdomen with the hot, sticky substance. Bi-Han gasps when they still continue their actions, still holding his cock firmly, still pressing the vibrator against his very sensitive head. His twitching cockhead leaking out the remains of his seeds.

Bi-Han pries his eyes open, looking at the blushing Áila and Jun, how wide their smiles are, and how it makes his heart soar knowing he’s the cause of their joy. While at the same time, he wants to protest their grip at his sensitive cock, the still vibrating vibrator trying to coax another ticklish orgasm out of him. “... nough – enough … I’ve come…”

But he’s not prepared to receive the answer, as the two beautiful maidens look at him, eyes glinting with mirth, and collectively reply, “We know.���

***

The heat of the room becomes a bit unbearable, as sweat begins to layer Bi-Han’s skin. He’s drunk on bliss, after having been milked twice by the vibrator; the offending tool has been set aside, thankfully. But now he lies, panting, thirsty for more, while at the same time he’s had enough. However, it’s difficult to know which desire he wants at the moment, especially when his head is lying on Áila’s plush thighs, and her breasts are just a kiss away from him.

Áila is caressing his hair; his bun has become loose in the midst of everything. The action is soothing, calming, also encouraging. Bi-Han looks up at her, past her impressive chest. His tongue darts out to taste her nipple, and like a baby, he latches there, suckling, earning her soft moaning.

Once again for the night, he fails to notice what Jun is doing. Only at the last second that he feels her straddling his hips; his hands automatically hold onto her thighs, fingers splaying trying to grab ahold of her. She chuckles, breathy and lustful, and he feels her taking his hardening length in her hand.

“Áila, I think your tits are magic. Look,” Jun gives him one long stroke, “he’s hard again.”

Áila laughs, “Indeed, breastfeeding has so many benefits.”

Bi-Han bucks his hips when he feels Jun rubbing her wetness all over his length. He can feel her warm cunt, and his cock is eager for a taste. His hands find her hips and pull her close, earning her chuckle, “How insatiable, Grandmaster. Relax. You don’t need to beg for this. I need you…” She presses his tip to her cunt, and though it’s not yet entering, the spreading heat is enough for Bi-Han to want to drive into her.

Then Jun sinks down his length.

Their shared moaning is loud; hers a broken one, his is startled one. Her walls are warm and tight, and he can feel his tip pressing against her cervical opening. Jun rocks her hips gently, and her moan erupts again. “A – ah … fuck … you’re so thick…”

Initially, Bi-Han believes she won’t be able to handle him. He believes she would give up, and he would have to plow into her at his own pace, and finally break her under his command. But the more she moves her hips, the steadier her pace has become, and within seconds, it is Bi-Han who finds himself at the edge of breaking again. He should have known the sway of her hips is lethal. Paired with the clenching of her walls, he can feel all of her with such shallow, hard thrusts.

Jun looks powerful like this; rocking and bouncing on his cock, humble-sized breasts jiggling in response, and the strands of her hair dancing back and forth with it. The flushed face and the parted lips, sharp eyes looking at him from hooded lids – somehow he wants nothing but to please her, wants her to be pleased by him.

With Áila’s breasts pressing against his face, earning a few lazy kisses and licks as he breathes and moans, Bi-Han could die peacefully. He doesn’t know what to feel when bliss is rushing all over his nerves. His cock is twitching, getting harder and more sensitive, especially when Jun suddenly clenches down tightly; her walls are spasming, and she throws her head back; her lips forming a perfect O, with her eyes closing tightly – she comes hard. It doesn’t take long for her to greedily continue moving, either to prolong her orgasm or to earn herself another one. For a moment, Bi-Han feels wild, feeling like a toy being used for her pleasure, and he loves it .

Áila looks at him from between her breasts, “Hmm? You’re loving this aren’t you?”

“What?” Jun breathes out between moaning.

“Yes, I think he’s loving this, Jun.”

“I do not – ah –” Bi-Han protests hastily.

Jun laughs, “I can tell you’re lying even when your face is buried in tits.”

Bi-Han tenses when he feels Áila’s hand on his chest. Her fingers are circling around his nipple, teasing, coaxing it to become erect. He huffs, “Wanton creatures… How – nngh – how can I not react… when you keep teasing me…?”

“You could freeze us, but so far you haven’t –  OH!” Jun’s words are cut off when Bi-Han layers his hands in ice, and he grips on her hips tighter. He wants to hear her protest, wants to hear her beg him to release her, but instead, she is mewling, long and wanting. “Ohhh… You play dirty, Grandmaster… Didn’t you know pain and pleasure go hand in hand?”

Bi-Han knows he is lost when Jun rocks her hips faster. He knows he is lost when Áila mutters hushed words of encouragement, and he beams up for each stroke of her hand against his hair. He knows he is lost when he feels Jun’s walls enveloping his length tightly, and she twitches and moans aloud when she comes again, this time accompanied by his. Hot white liquid spurting out in liberation, painting her insides completely. He knows he is lost when Jun removes herself from him, and he whines – the Grandmaster whines – at the loss of warmth around his sensitive cock.

Oh, but for once, losing feels so good.

***

“Does this hurt?” Jun pulls the chain slightly.

Bi-Han huffs, looking down at the chain, following it to the nipple clamps that are now attached to his erect nipples. They look so red. When he doesn’t reply, Jun tugs the chain again.

“I said, does this hurt?” She repeats.

“No.” Bi-Han grunts.

“They look like they hurt.” Áila comments from where she is lying down on the bed, propped up by comfortable pillows. Her legs are parted, baring her pink cunt to the air; Bi-Han’s gaze falls to it, can’t deny that he is eager for her even after so many times coming.

“It’s not.” Bi-Han assures her. To be honest, he has never thought his nipples would be in this situation, but here they are, and he’s feeling way too good about it. He takes his position between Áila’s legs; his hard length resting on top of her mound. He can feel her hot cunt against his balls.

Áila looks divine in this position. Sprawled out on his bed, hands clutching tightly on the sheets, and her bright-colored hair a stark contrast to the fabric. She looks adorable, with the blushing cheeks, and still bright smile that’s just begging to be turned into orgasmic bliss. He wants to ruin her, wants to be ruined by her.

Bi-Han rubs his length along her opening, tip teasing her leaking cunt. She feels warmer, hotter than Jun’s, and when he finally enters her – Gods! – Bi-Han believes he would have melted instantly. Yet he persists, pressing forward until his hips are flushed against hers. He hoists her left leg to his shoulder, wanting to drive in deeper, she moves her right thigh further, wanting him to drive in deeper.

Then he begins to move.

With each thrust, his nipple clamps move, and it sends jolts of bliss to his sensitive tips. It makes his cock twitch involuntarily. It tickles, but feels arousing. It aches, but feels blissful. He is lost in the sensation shortly, when he can hear Áila’s loud moaning, when he can hear the slapping of flesh and the wet squelching noise of her cunt, when he feels her walls threatening to melt his cock off from how tight they are squeezing him.

Suddenly, the chain is tugged, and Bi-Han’s eyes shoot open in shock; he groans in protest when his pace falters. He feels Jun leaning behind him, pressing her naked front to his back. Her right hand is tugging at the chain, while her left is on his head, giving a gentle pat. “Hush… You are doing so well…”

I was, until you interrupted me , is what Bi-Han wants to say. But he grits his teeth and remains quiet, and focuses on fucking Áila as best as he can without faltering again. He can feel her getting close; cunt twitching, her moaning escalating into a crescendo, and – 

And she comes, at the same time as the chain is tugged three times, and Bi-Han finds himself moaning aloud to accompany Áila’s wanton cries. He grips her thighs firmly, trying to ground himself, not wanting to come just yet. But it’s difficult when Jun is teasing the living hell out of him, giggling and peppering kisses to his sweating temple.

“One more, for the sake of being fair. I came twice, she must come twice as well.” Jun whispers, still holding onto the chain.

Bi-Han can’t think straight. His mind is too fucked up to even make a coherent sentence, that he simply nods in reply, and sounding off a breathy, “Yes.” His hips begin to move again, picking up the pace again, that by now it feels like an automatic action, a carnal desire. He wants to come, again and again, wants to paint their insides with his seeds, wants to have them howling his name and crying aloud from how good he’s making them feel.

But his reply must have been not good enough. The chain is tugged again, but this time is by Áila; he bows down, following the pull of the chain. His eyes lock with hers, seeing the lust she shares. Her question is laced with the same lust as well, “Are you – ahn – are you going to please me – mmh?”

Bi-Han nods frantically.

Jun coos at his back, kisses littering on the hard plane of his torso, on his shoulders, on his nape. Dainty fingers coiling with his hair, rubbing at his scalp, gently kneading. Bi-Han drives in faster and harder into Áila’s sopping cunt, again and again and again –

He feels her walls clenching around him again, and he can’t stop the blissful moaning that erupts from his throat; his cock twitching in delight, and his seeds are leaving him without having to be asked. It is too much, too damn much, that he gets lightheaded.

He feels himself being pulled backwards until he’s out of Áila’s divine walls, and he’s lying on his back, sweating. He registers the bed shifting as the two goddesses are moving about. Jun removes the nipple clamps one by one; with each one, she rubs a cooling ointment on his sore nipples carefully. He swears he hears her muttering what a good job he has done, and how good he looks. Then, shortly, he feels a wet, warm towel being dragged along his lower abdomen, as if giving him a bath. It cleans up his length from his sticky sperm. Áila’s face comes into view, and she plants a kiss to the tip of his nose, a smile so bright he could claim her as his sun.

When his breathing has become calmer, he feels the bed dips again. Automatically, he opens his arms, welcoming both Áila and Jun to lie on his chest, cuddled up in a shared body warmth. With a slow movement, he plants a kiss on their damp foreheads, each one earning their pleased humming. And only then do they close their eyes, and drift asleep, high on cloud nine of bliss.

***

“You… wish to be placed with the Lin Kuei for an indefinite amount of time?” Liu Kang asks, confusion etched on his face. “I mean no offense, I’m merely confused as to why. When I suggested it at first, you two didn’t seem to want it, said Arctika is too cold and harsh.”

“Well, it was then, but after a while it grows on us.” Áila replies with a shrug. “I’ve informed my clan. As long as I’m doing my part to keep Earthrealm safe, they are fine with my decision.”

“Likewise,” Jun comments. “The Tenshikiri can operate individually; I have my General at the ready should anything urgent comes up. You have nothing to worry about, Lord Liu Kang.”

The Fire God, despite still in confusion, finally relents. “Very well. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to inform me.”

Jun smiles, “Rest assured. The Grandmaster is treating us well.”

“Indeed, he is.” Áila adds. “Please excuse us. We must return to Arctika at once; there are plenty to plan for the sake of Earthrealm.”

Bi-Han hums, leaning by the door to Liu Kang’s meeting room, listening to the conversation that’s taking place within. He counts the footsteps of Áila and Jun, and anticipates their arrival to his location. They notice him, as he does them, and though it is subtle, the little look they exchange speaks louder than words.

“Now that is done.” Áila begins.

Jun finishes, “Shall we return to Arctika, Grandmaster?”

With his smile hidden behind his mask, Bi-Han hushedly replies, “As my ladies wish.”

[rugtopper]

Wedding Night Surprises

By Rugtopper

I have always been traditional or old fashioned by nature.  For as long as I could remember growing up at the orphanage, all of us under Father Carmine's care and instruction were taught good principles, good ethics, and good deportment.  For the few of us who were never adopted, some would rebel and veer from the path laid out by Father Carmine.  I stayed the course.  Once we reached our teen years, all the boys were expected to wear dress pants, shirts and ties, and shoes polished to high gloss every day.  As such, we were required to also don certain undergarments.  Some of the boys hated the mundane medallion or diamond patterned boxer shorts.  The sleeveless undershirts, or tank tops, were somewhat popular among most.  They were back in fashion again after an absence.  The one thing that a lot of the young men hated were the sock garters.  Father Carmine said that a proper gentleman never pulled up his socks in public.  I didn't mind any of it.  In fact, I really liked it.  It made me feel like a grown up man instead of a teenage boy.  Personally, I think he just liked seeing all of us dressed like that every morning as we got ready for school.  

At one point Father Carmine thought I would follow him and take Holy Orders, but I didn't want to follow that strict path. 

By law, at age 18, the state required me to leave the orphanage.  For whatever reason, I was never adopted.  Father Carmine helped me find a small room to rent a few blocks from the orphanage.  I was allowed to continue to help out in the office at the orphanage.  In truth, I was the de facto bookkeeper for the orphanage and the parish.  I started night school to get a proper degree in accounting.  That's when I met Julie.

Julie Hatfield was extraordinarily gorgeous, and yet painfully shy.  Slowly, over the course of that first term of school I got to know her.  I was shy to some extent, but I had also learned to be open enough as a kid in the likelihood I might get adopted.  In short, we were both looking for someone to love.  Less than a year later, we were dating on a regular basis.  Despite our blatant differences in background, we found we had some things in common.  She was rather old fashioned, as well.  Unlike most young women, she wore skirts or dresses.  I don't think I ever saw her in pants.  She always had her hair beautifully styled.  On our first real dinner date, I swear she wore an elegant little black dress, a string of simple pearls, with her hair in a French twist.  I was so mesmerized I couldn't even say her name.

After two months of dating, I thought we were getting serious.  I had casually brought up marriage.  We had already talked about so many things.  There were minor disagreements over silly issues, but on many principles we were of one mind in our views of things.  This was beyond an issue of politics or religion, but rather an approach to many esthetics of life that most everyone of our generation hated or thoroughly dismissed.

One night when we were dining at our favorite restaurant, she said something that startled me.  As we were eating our little dinner salads, she asked me if I was losing my hair.  I had never been asked that before, much less seriously given it any thought.

"I don't think so," I told her.  "Why do you ask?"

"It looks like you are receding a bit in the front.  Plus, you are thinning in the back."

I was more interested in why she brought it up than in if it might be true or not.  Over the next week she mentioned it a few more times.  Finally, I confronted her about it.  That's when we had our first real 'adult' conversation.  We shared our interests.  Nowadays, people call them kinks.  Back then, you didn't talk about those things.  Still it was enlightening, and even vulgarly titillating, to say the least.

I asked her why my hair was suddenly such an issue for her.  She told me that she really hated bald men, and that she didn't want me to go bald.  I told her that I didn't think there was a chance of that.  That's when she brought up my empty history.

"You're an orphan, Bryan Murphy.  You don't know who your parents are.  You don't know if your maternal grandfather was totally bald or anything.  I couldn't live with a bald man.  I just couldn't.  I know it sounds silly."

"But, Julie, I'm not losing my hair at all.  Yes, it's receding a bit like you said, but it's nothing drastic."

"I just couldn't stand it.  That's all."

"What would you want me to do, get a hairpiece?"

She got this odd look on her face.

"Would you?  For me?" She asked, almost childlike.

"What?" I retorted.

"Would you get a hairpiece?  I mean, you are slowly losing your hair as it is.  If you got a hairpiece now, no one would know."

"Julie, if I get a hairpiece, I would be bald underneath it.  Wouldn't that bother you?  I mean, eventually we are going to get married.  We have decided to wait until our wedding night to make love.  Won't it upset you when I take it off that first time?"

"That's different, Bryan."

"How is that different, Julie?  You just said how much you hate bald men.  Would you hate me?"

"No, Bryan.  I love you.  It's just that . . ."

"Well.  It's just what?  You say you love me but hate bald men, yet you want me to be bald.  I don't understand."

"Neither do I, to tell the truth."

"Okay.  Now, I'm confused."

"I really can't explain it.  With all the little quirks we have shared, I left one out.  I have this really odd bent for men who wear rugs."

I laughed.  She got upset.

"I'm sorry.  Don't be mad, Julie.  I'm sorry.  So, let me get this straight, a man in a cheap toupee makes you hot?"

"Yes."

"I guess it makes him hot, too." I sarcastically said.  She just gave me this certain smirk I had grown accustomed to over the months I had known her.

"I'm sorry, Julie."

"Just forget it.  You said you wanted to know."

"Would you really want me to do that?  Would it make you happy?"

"Yes.  Would you really do it for me?  I mean, would you put yourself through that?"

"I have never known of someone doing something like that for someone else.  I mean, yes, people have done other things for someone they love, but this is really unusual.  I don't even know a barber who could help me."

Suddenly she had this look on her face.

"You know someone, don't you?" I asked her.  "You have been planning this haven't you?"

"No, not really, but I have a third cousin who owns a little old fashioned barbershop about forty miles from here.  I think if I talked to him, he would do it without any questions."

"Do you know how much those things cost, especially over the years?  I will be 20 in a month.  My job doesn't pay much and then there is school tuition, I couldn't afford the added expense."

"Let me talk to Ronnie.  I'll tell him your situation and what I want.  He's a nice guy and a highly respected barber.  Do you know that he is the mayor's barber?"

Mayor Llewellyn was the nicest man you would ever want to meet with a blatantly obvious pewter toupee perched on his head.

I swallowed and said, "if that's what you want, sure."

Little did I know just how traditional and old-fashioned I was about to be.

Ronnie Blevins was a bit of a throwback.  When I got to his shop, he was sitting in this huge red leather and chrome barber's chair reading a magazine.  He was wearing a white barber's smock over his husky frame.  He looked like so many of those guys who had once played football, but had just let things go since graduation. The top of his head was this flat cocoa brown, wavy hairpiece in an early 1980s brushed back style.  The sides and back were not the same shade of brown and quite sparser with some gray in it.

"You must be Bryan.  I'm Ronnie.  Julie has told me all about you," Ronnie said as he got up and shook my hair.  "Have a seat," he gestured.

"So, you've spoken with Julie?  You know why I'm here."

"It's okay, Bryan.  Julie and I are third cousins, but she and I are very close.  She is like one of my sisters.  I have three."

"Must be nice.  I guess Julie told you that I'm an orphan."

"Yes, but I know it hasn't stopped you in any way.  Julie has told me how you graduated in the top ten percent of your class in high school, and how you're working your way through college at night.  Now, let's get down to business.  I can tell you have some receding in front and thinning in the crown." Ronnie said this as he took a comb out of his smock and started combing through my hair.

"I really don't think I need a hairpiece, Ronnie.  I think Julie is overreacting."

"I didn't think I did either, Bryan.  Still after every Friday night game, I'd find more and more hair in the drain.  Finally I couldn't handle it.  When I messed up my knee during the last game of the season I knew college ball, and any other kind of sports, was no longer a part of my future.  I went to barber school, and came to work for my dad here.  A year later he had a stroke and died."

"I'm sorry to hear that.  At least you had that time with him."

"Julie has given me some instructions.  Do you trust her?  Do you trust me?"

"Well . . . I love her.  That's what's important.  If this is what she wants, I can't say no.  In all the time we have known each other, she has never asked anything of me."

"Okay then.  Let's get started."

Ronnie grabbed some clippers and slowly began to remove the hair on the top of my head.  As he did it, I could suddenly see just how much of my scalp was starting to show.  Maybe I was losing my hair and was just in denial.

Ronnie made several passes from the front of my head to the top of my occipital bone.  Pass after pass, I looked more and more like a forty year old man, as opposed to a twenty year old man.

When Ronnie put down those clippers, the hair on the top of my head was so short and sparse that I couldn't even see them in the mirror across from me.

Ronnie picked up a small orange tube and put some pale opalescence cream on my scalp.  It was very thick and quite cold. He began to spread it over the newly shaved area.  As he massaged the cream into my scalp, it began to get warmer and warmer.  When he finished, he washed his hands and rolled a small heat lamp over to the barber's chair.  The lamp was even warmer than the cream, but it never seemed to burn.  The longer that heat lamp was on, the cream changed from the opalescence shade to totally clear.  Once the cream was completely clear, it suddenly began to shine and almost glow.  When that happened, Ronnie turned off the lamp.  He had me move to a sink in the corner where he rinsed off the loose hair and the cream.

When I sat back down in the huge barber's chair, Ronnie removed the hand towel that was my head.  I made a slight gasp.  I was so incredibly bald.  I had this small ring of hair around the sides and back of my head.

Ronnie left me staring at my pasty scalp.  He came back a moment later with an old leather wig stand with a hairpiece pinned to it.  It was a much lighter shade of brown than the hair that had been on the top of my head.

"Let's get to work helping you to look like the young man that Julie wants to marry," Ronnie said as he took the hairpiece off  the stand.  He put tape around the perimeter.  I watched how he only used four pieces of tape.  Each was specifically designed for certain places.  Two pieces were shaped like parentheses  for the front and back.  The other two were straighter for the sides.  He put the toupee on my bald head.  I felt the tape adhere at all four places.  More importantly, I saw the sudden transformation of my overall appearance.  Ronnie began combining the piece on the back and sides.  With scissors, he trimmed the longer tendrils.  There was a left-sided part already established.  It was very stark.  He gently combed the front of the toupee. It looked like it was swept up off my forehead.  It was the same style the mayor had, as well as several other prominent men around town.  I was torn between embarrassment and delight.  I was too busy marveling at what was on my head to fully grasp the artificiality of it.  Finally, I looked at Ronnie via the mirror and asked him, "how much does this cost?"

"Usually I charge $50, but this first one is like a wedding gift.  I know that money is tight for you.  A lot of men are like you.  They don't want to be bald, but they can't afford the very expensive human hairpieces that are on the market."

"But I'm not really bald.  You just made me temporarily bald for the toupee to please Julie.  Didn't you?"

"Well, yes, Bryan.  But, that cream I used is a high acting formula depilatory.  With the heat lamp, it kills the hair follicle for up to six weeks.  After I used it for six months,  my hair never grew back.   Neither will yours."

"You mean I'm . . . bald?"

"Technically, yes, but you have a great toupee, Bryan.  This is what Julie picked out for you."

I drove back home, a completely new man. A week later, Julie and I had planned to go to a fundraiser for the mayor's upcoming campaign.  I wore a retro 1950s tuxedo that was midnight blue.  Julie wore an emerald cocktail dress that matched her eyes perfectly.

The entire evening, I was so self-conscious.  I thought everyone in the room was staring at my new hair.  In truth they were.  It didn't help that I seemed to be acutely aware of the microscopic space between my bald scalp and the quite noticeable toupee taped to it.  Strangely, it wasn't uncomfortable or itchy.  I just felt like I was the center of attention.  I had realized before I left Ronnie's shop that the hairpiece was rather thick and full.  When Julie and I were introduced to the mayor and his wife, his eyes immediately drifted upwards to my upswept, hard hairline, and he smiled.  Later on after he had finished greeting his guests, he made his way to our table.  He asked if he could have a private word with me in the lobby of the hotel where the fundraiser was being held.

"Young man, I hear you managed to survive 18 years under Father Carmine's tutelage  at the orphanage."

I was rather taken back.  I hadn't expected that opening gambit.

"Yes, sir, Mr.  Mayor.  I guess no one was willing to take me on, sir."

"How old are you, son?"

"I'll be 20 in a few weeks, sir."

He moved a little closer to me and dropped his voice.  "It looks like Ronnie did an excellent job on your hair, son.  His Dad helped me out with my problem when I was about your age.  Trust me, I know how tough it can be."

"Thank you, sir," was about all I could say.

"Be proud of it.  There's nothing to be self-conscious about or embarrassed by.  It is far better than the hidden reality.  Am I right?"

A soft "yes sir" was all I could muster.

"Father Carmine tells me you have been his bookkeeper since you were a teen.  I could use someone like you in my office.  A raise in salary certainly would help you and Julie get started in life.  Come by my office on Thursday.  We'll talk.  I'll go talk to Father Carmine a little later and see if I can steal you away from him."

With that, the mayor walked back into the banquet hall as Julie was walking out.

"What did he want, Bryan?" Julie asked as she got closer to me.

"He wanted to offer me a job!"

She looked up at my rug and asked, "did he mention your hairpiece?"

"He just told me that he thought your cousin Ronnie did an excellent job."

"See?  I knew it might help you in more ways than you thought.  With this new job, maybe we can get married."

"Really?  Are you sure?"

"Of course.  I don't want a big wedding.  You don't have any family.  I only have Ronnie and his three sisters.  We could get married tomorrow afternoon at the courthouse if we wanted."

"Wait?  I thought you wanted a very traditional church wedding.  Don't most women want that?"

"Well, I'd love it, but I can't afford it; we can't afford it.  I'd love for Ronnie to walk me down the aisle, and his youngest sister be my flower girl, and his other sisters be my bridesmaids.  I'd want to see you standing there at the altar beside Father Carmine looking so handsome and mature with your . . .  Never mind."

I whispered, "you mean my new hair?"

"Yes, Bryan."

"Do you really like it?  I feel a bit awkward.  Still after Ronnie's and the mayor's little pep talks, I do feel a lot more comfortable.  Wait here just a moment.  I have an idea."

I left Julie standing perplexed in the hotel lobby.  I went back to the banquet hall and found Father Carmine.  He just finished talking with the mayor.

"So, Bryan, the mayor says he wants to hire you away from me to work with his campaign.  Is that what you would like?"

"Possibly, Father, but that's not what I wanted to ask you.  Julie and I want to get married properly in church with you officiating.  The trouble is, we can't afford it."

"Bryan, why don't you let me give you the wedding as a gift?  I've known you since you were nine days old.  You are the closest thing I'll ever have to a son.  Let it be my wedding present."

I guess the look of surprise on my face was a bit over the top.  I felt the toupee tape slightly lift in the front.  If Father Carmine noticed, he didn't say anything.  Of course, he hadn't said anything to me all night about my hair.  Maybe he hadn't noticed.  I hope he has not.  Alas, his eyes drifted upwards and then back down.  He only smiled and walked away.

I went back to Julie and told her the good news.  She cried and kissed me, and then she felt the back of my head at the occipital bone where my toupee was taped.  She only lightly touched it, but didn't pull it.

"You look so handsome and mature," she whispered.  "Thank you for doing that for me."

No wedding had ever come together so quickly in our community.  Everyone at the parish helped out.  Two of the nuns worked all week transforming Ronnie's mother's wedding gown to fit Julie.

We were married the next Saturday at St. Michael's.

The honeymoon was two nights at an Inn three blocks from Ronnie's barbershop.  That was a gift from Ronnie's older sisters.

After I carried Julie across the threshold, I walked back to the hall and got our two suitcases.  I closed the door and we looked at each other.

"So, I guess this is the magic moment," I said.

We had that little talk a few months ago," she began.  "Are we ready?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

We both began to undress.

We had changed from our wedding clothes into more traditional attire.  She was wearing a pale blue dress with a square neck.  I was wearing a dark navy suit.

I took off my coat for her.  My crisp white shirt was tightly tucked into my trousers.  You could clearly see my undershirt through the dress shirt.  I loosened and removed my tie.

She reached up and unclasped the top of her dress.  She turned around and indicated for me to unzip it.  She let it fall to the floor.  She was wearing an ivory slip.  She reached up and slid the straps off her shoulders letting the slip fall on top of her dress.  She stepped out of it and turned to face me.  She was standing there in her bra.  Clearly, it contained more than just what nature had given her.  She had told me that.  It wasn't vulgar and pointy like Jayne Mansfield, but it did evoke a certain Jane Russell flair.  Her open bottom girdle with garters and stockings sent shivers up my spine and a tingle in my trousers.  She stepped forward and unbuttoned my shirt revealing the straps and scoop of my classic ribbed undershirt.  She then undid my belt.  I knew what was about to happen.  She unbuttoned my pants and unzipped my fly.  My trousers fell to my ankles.  I was wearing the white boxer shorts with pink roses and red hearts that she had sent to me that morning.  I stood there with my matching navy socks and double-grip pink garters.  I started to reach up to remove my toupee.  She stopped me.  She sat on the edge of the bed and unfastened her garters.  She slowly removed her stockings.  Then she got up, turned around for me to unhook her bra.  Her breasts were almost non-existent, but I never said anything.  I was too aroused to speak.  I was also nervous.  I must have been perspiring.  I leaned in to kiss her.  I could tell my toupee tape was slightly loose.  I leaned up and put my hands up to remove it as I had done on my own every night since I had gotten it.  She sensuously slid off her girdle.  She helped me as I took off my toupee.  She gasped as we connected and completed our union.  We felt old and young, ugly and beautiful, exposed and yet complete.

The End.

[samanthahirr]

Hosiery Habit Headcanons

Bond washes his socks by hand, every day. Every pair of socks, no matter where he is, whether at home or on a mission. He learned in the Navy that you can never have enough pairs of clean socks (he will never speak of that month-long assignment to the rain forests of Guatemala EVER), so he religiously washes his used socks each night before sleep and lays them out to dry before he packs them away in the morning.

Felix introduces Bond to his pair of lucky socks on their first joint mission. On a Sunday morning, when Bond dons thick wool socks for their hike through the Andes, Felix slides on his lucky socks and sends his thoughts heavenward for a much-needed victory. That night, when Bond points out that Felix’s lucky socks let them down—their mission having fallen apart spectacularly—Felix checks the score on his phone and scoffs that they made two interceptions in the final quarter and won by 7 points. Bond gives him a queer look. Maybe Bond doesn’t believe in sports rituals, but Felix will do whatever it takes to support his favorite team; even if he can’t attend in person, he’s not gonna let the Saints down.

Moneypenny wears plain hose at MI6 (with the exception of her monthly, when she wears the pairs with extra tummy shaping), nude with no embellishments. Although there was one memorable holiday party when she purchased and wore a pair of full-fashioned stockings with the seam up the back that caused quite a kerfuffle. There were so many collisions and bruises amongst the staff attributed to her hosiery that HR had to request that she restrict their use to extracurricular occasions only.

Tanner makes a point of dressing appropriately and not drawing undue attention to himself. However, he has a sizable collection of novelty socks courtesy of his children’s gifts over the years, and he takes comfort in having a piece of his home life with him when at his stressful job.

Q is not a morning person and, as such, can’t be arsed to tell the difference between navy and black when getting dressed before dawn. He doesn’t give a shit whether his socks match his trousers; he has more important concerns on his mind, thank you very much. And outside of the office, he avoids socks altogether; barefoot in loafers or trainers is his preferred style.

MI6 Medical released an emergency advisory in 2019: No toe socks in the office! The infernal footwear became all the rage in 2018, and they did no harm so long as staff wore proper footwear to protect their feet in hazardous areas. But when a Q Branch technician reported to Medical limping badly, staff were appalled to find that he’d shoved his toe-socked foot into a colleague’s borrowed footwear to enter one of the more hazardous labs, and the toe-sock seams had cut off circulation to more than one toe over the course of three hours. Never again!

Alec learned early in life the importance of blending in and conforming to expectations. It earned him a reputation for being steady and dependable at the orphanage and later in the Navy. One of the easiest ways to conform was to mimic the styling of the most respected person around you. At school, it was the head boy. In the Navy, it was his commanding officer. And at MI6, it’s Bond, whose style is the fiddliest to imitate. (Those bespoke suits cost a bloody fortune!) Most obnoxious are Bond’s favorite silk-blend socks, which are nonabsorbent and require delicate washing. But Alec bides his time, keeps in line, wears the damn socks, and passes himself off as a loyal operative while he makes plans for his eventual defection….

Mallory dated a peer a couple decades back; a handsome fellow who cut a very fashionable figure. Mallory has some fond memories of their time together, as well as a keepsake set of platinum cuff links…and an unfortunate kink for sock garters. Mallory resolutely doesn’t own or wear any himself, but he’s aware that Bond and Trevelyan wear them on occasion. He does his best not to think about that when they’re seated across from him, their trouser hems riding up their ankles, eyeing how taut their socks are pulled, and wondering.

Madeleine has always hated the cold, and Altaussee is a bleak wasteland of tourists and ice. Her office, with its impractical exterior glass walls, is always two degrees lower than the interior rooms, and her usual hose doesn’t keep her ankles warm enough for a full day of listening to billionaires’ midlife crises. She’s taken to keeping a pair of double-layer cabin socks under her desk, and she kicks off her high heeled pumps and slides the cozy socks on overtop her hose every time she has an appointment in her blasted icebox of an office. 

The sweaters that Q’s cats wear are cozy. The sweaters are warm. The sweaters feel like safety and Q’s gentle fingers sliding them on. But once a year, there is more. There are hats. There are strange collars. And there are socks. The socks are the enemy. They are confinement. They are slipping imbalance. The socks slide on like punishment for imagined crimes. Q lifts his cats and places them on the cat tree. Q coos, “Don’t you look precious.” A shutter clicks, and his fingers are no longer in the way, no longer trying to stop the inevitable. The socks are prey. They must be destroyed. Long claws pierce them. Rend them. Teeth dig in, merciless, and shake them limp. Dead socks taste of cotton victory. “Sorry darlings,” Q laughs. Surely Q will learn from this. There will not be socks again. “Not for another year,” Q promises.

[consumeroflemoans]

Hello, you asked for Vilidia asks and I'm gonna try my damndest to deliver because I crave content of them as well, so I'm just gonna knock out a few scenarios I have in my head, they're a bit half baked, but I hope that's fine

So the social event thought, Vil is famous, Idias family is kinda too, he's bound to be forced to attend something at some point and does acting coincide with conglamerate shit? Probably not, but I don't know how being famous works and a man can dream

This then could lead to a classic run-in and then "chilling outside because you're the only person here I like or maybe even know", but what I personally think is just a tad funnier is if the rest of Idias whole extended family was also present and Vil can be introduced to those guys for a nice little "wtf Idia has friends/a boyfriend", depends on wether he'd be willing to tell them, and not only that it's Vil fucking Schönheit

Of course there's Mr. and Ms. Shroud which in and of itself already good, but an idea I've seen floating around too is that Idia has a cousin who could be TWST Zeus and I like that thought plus aunts, uncles, whoever you want really

Secondly, something smaller is that I like to think Idia at some point in his life is going to get glasses because I have glasses come on, he sees more blue light than sunlight

And now that could go over into funky glasses frame shopping because just because glasses are made to make you see better doesn't mean that they aren't just as much capable of looking fun and I think Vil would agreePlus you could also get a nice chain to attach if you wanted to

Proceeding with more fashion stuff, now it's no uncommon scenario to see Vil dress Idia up a bit, but I also like the thought that by the end Idia is so flustered that his hair is entirely pink and now the outfit colours Vil picked out don't work anymore

I might come back at some point and tell you about more thoughts, but I feel like that's enough for now and I hope you enjoyed them

Have a nice day :]

Dude I am going absolutely insane

AUACAUA omg

Vil and Idia at some stuffy party they don’t want to be at is golden.

I absolutely adore Vil having the chance to meet Idia’s family but also consider:

They’re the only two outside and already familiar with each other. Vil notices Idia visibly uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to have to dress up and socialize, that much is obvious. They stand in silence for a long time, far enough apart to not intrude on one another. Vil mentally debates the whole time, wondering if he could be irresponsible for just one night. He wants to help Idia, but he has an obligation to make his presence known at the party. Eventually he decides, sweeping over towards Idia in whatever elegant gown he donned. Vil asks point blank if Idia wants to get out of there. Idia’s obviously taken aback but stutters out an agreement. They take a night out, finding some gazebo far from any human life and spend the night together. They’re still in their formal wear as they explore together and chat, but neither of them mind much. Outside of the obligations of the party, it’s nice to have a chance to be themselves.

Augh actually on the topic of Vil and family I feel like he’d be kind of shocked by Idia having a large family. It’s always been just him and his dad, so him suddenly having a massive extended family would be so fun. Also I feel like he’d be the kind of guy to absolutely adore kids. He might not have them for himself, but he loves Ortho and any of Idia’s younger cousins. Idia finds it really endearing seeing Vil get along so well with his family.

ALSO OMG IDIA EITH GLASSES

I’m just imagining Vil looking over the options with Idia, both of them trying to find the perfect one to match his vibe. They can’t seem to find the perfect one, so they take matters into their own hands. Both of them have the money and talent to design custom glasses. Vil would sketch out designs for different outfits and scenarios while Idia would build the frames and add some sort of techno magic to them. He can’t have boring regular glasses after all.

Omg one of my favorite things ever is them combining Idia’s technological genius with Vil’s skill with design. They could pull together so many cool tech savvy outfits

Just them trying fashion together!!! Aaaaa Vil dressing Idia, standing back to appraise him, and saying Idia looks stunning. Idia immediately breaks, his hair flaring a bright pink and Vil watches him smugly. Vil adores how easily he can break Idia and he often will whisper small compliments into his ear just to see that reaction. They pass each other in the halls and Vil leans down for a brief moment to say Idia looks cute. Idia tugs his hood over his head and quickly shuffles away, now unable to think about anything besides Vil.

Swipe you thank you so much for feeding me. As promised I am kissing you platonically /silly

Now excuse me while I die

[samsvenn]

Your headcanons about boys clothes amazing! Whould you do that about all boys? Can we have Laito clothes headcanons please?)

𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

including the most accurate IRL Laito I've ever seen at the very bottom yes! i'll try my best to do all the boys because there's currently requests for Ruki and Azusa in my inbox, leaving Kanato and Ayato to be the last of the sakamaki family :)

Has done a profile study on his best features and decided to go down The Rake (Robert Greene fanatics be threatened) path: “Touch, not. See? Till you bleed.” Instead of enhancing his naturally siren-like features using clothes, he chooses to adopt an outside appearance that is dripping with elegant sensuality. 

Why elegant? Why not go for something raw? Dress scantily? That is because of Laito’s mind games. If Laito is with you in public and he shows that he’s a dog, and he is, to any person he sees out in the open, it’s a dangerous card to pull early because the element of surprise and disgust has been shunned for an unimportant, short scare.

However, if you pull it at just the right moment, screams of confusion and nerves are delicious when they’re fermented. 

But, if you cast a lure instead, it’s gonna garner attention, either good or bad for you. Words that wonder why you’re near such a beautiful person, why you’re beside him instead of them, those kinds. It’s a cruel tactic.

Laito is definitely into French fashion. The capital of love, the city famous for its erotism and poetry, Laito is OBSESSED. One thing he absolutely loves about France is how they’re able to dress fashionably under hot weather, yet not compromise style. 

Another style he’s touched on is 70s fashion. Loves the bell-bottom pants and the multiple ways he can style his hair, which is basically a mullet at this point. And who styles mullets better than the 70s?

He likes to show off the small area below his collarbones, but not necessarily the chest. Of course, that doesn't mean he won't expose his chest.

this area right here

For casual wear, owns a few T-Shirts but most of the time, he’ll never wear them outside. These T-Shirts have minimal to no graphic design, believing that less is more when it comes to them. The fit of these T-Shirts ranges from loose to tightly fitting around his shoulders. The length of the sleeves reaches his elbows but there are ones that are 1-1.5 inches above the joint.

Laito has a specific group of clothes that have been minimally cut at the bottom so whenever he stretches, you can catch a small glimpse of his abdomen. 

Pants are always jeans, latex pants, or dress pants. It really depends on how well his tops match with his current pair but those two are his daily. A relaxed fit, light denim is his favorite and for dress pants; a regular-fit, high-waisted dress pants where you can attach and tie a matching fabric belt.

For latex pants, latex is hard to maintain so he rarely uses them. Plus, he has to use baby powder if he does decide to don them. But when he does, their colors are always black and the fit is tightly snug; tight, but not suffocating.

For colors, leans toward nature hues since it compliments his olive undertone. Muted greens, almond browns, rajah; bright saturation does not work in his man’s favor unless they’re accents, not a full-blown piece. 

For shoes, two types come to mind: a versatile sneaker suited for flexibility because this man loves to HUNT in lots of ways you can imagine, and a dress shoe that pairs with any outfit, regardless of whether they’re casual or formal.

 Two shoes come to mind: Nike Dunk Low Off in White Pine Green swatch and brown heeled loafers with a leather dress sole and gold accent on the toecap. 

Doesn’t wear brand names and prefers thrifting. It gives him a chance to go out and those overzealous attention-seeking logos like Louis Vuitton leave a bad taste in his mouth. 

He prefers clothes that are sleek and minimal, like the T-Shirt section at UNIQLO; so that he can either dress ‘ruggedly’ or clean - with all the control in his hands. A power thing, at its core.

His outerwear has leather jackets, flared bomber jackets with the collar pointing outwards for a confident look and if it’s too hot outside, he’ll wear a thin cardigan. These three are famed for being extremely adaptive so Laito has a few color swatches for each because sticking to one palette gets boring quickly.

Laito’s clothes fit relaxed on him. The only tight clothing piece he’s got is the waistband on his high-waisted pants because they plump his ass.

Thick belts are his guilty pleasure but those chunky buckles can join Cordelia in the pits of hell

Didn’t like those small, rectangle glasses fashion influencers used until he saw Kou wearing one. Started to wear them out of spite. Why? So that Kou can assume Laito copied him. Why? Because Laito loves irritating the ‘trendsetter’. “They looked shitty on you so I wore them today to give them another chance at life nfufu~”

Silk bandannas. Whether they’re wrapped around his neck or tying his hair back, pretty much all of his brothers know what the alternative use is.

Ever since Y2K’s been blowing up, you best believe Laito has a pearl necklace. Makes him look extra douchey. He has the really small ones where you can’t tell it’s a pearl necklace unless you get really close and personal.

Sadly includes leopard prints into his wardrobe. If this man wasn’t already enough of an ick, he is now.

One of those guys who like to display their underwear waistband.

For accessories, Laito keeps a brown leather handbag on him at all times. There are way too many items to include, but here are a few:

You can’t tell me Laito doesn’t own a tank top. Or at least five, minimum. Summer heat, folks, summer heat. City Boys rise up  ✊

The most irl accurate Laito I've ever seen omg

[aalissy]

Modeling

Day 8 is doneee!! It’s a short, fluffy lil chapter for today as per usual haha. I hope you like it! Lemme know what you think :)

AO3

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city of Paris, Adrien Agreste, the famous teenage model and son of renowned fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, found himself in an unexpected situation. He was about to don the latest creation from his father's atelier, but this time, it wasn't for a high-end fashion show or a glossy magazine spread. No, this time, Adrien was modeling for none other than his classmate and best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She had just gotten an internship with a high-end designer and had been so proud of herself that he couldn’t help but feel just as pleased with her work. Even if a small corner of his mind was displeased that she was even more busy than usual. 

But when Marinette had come to him the other day, an adorable pink flush to her cheeks as she asked him if he’d be willing to model one of her designs, of course, he said yes. 

He had always admired her talent for fashion design. Her unique sense of style, combined with her creativity and attention to detail had earned her a reputation as one of the most promising young designers in Paris. So, he couldn't resist the opportunity to support her and see her work come to life on the runway.

“An opportunity to model a Marinette original. How could I say no?” He had winked, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at watching her pink flush turn just a shade darker.

As Adrien slipped into the first outfit that Marinette had designed, he was struck by the precision and craftsmanship of the garment. The attention to detail was remarkable, with every stitch and seam carefully executed to create a stunning piece of artwork. Adrien couldn't help but marvel at Marinette's talent as he adjusted the collar of the jacket.

As the lights dimmed and the music began to play, Adrien stepped onto the runway, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. He had walked countless runways before, but this was different. This time, he was showcasing Marinette's designs, and he was determined to do them justice. After all, this was her first big show. He had to make certain that this was his best show yet!

As he strutted down the catwalk, Adrien could feel the eyes of the audience on him, and he knew that Marinette's collection was a hit. The gasps and whispers of admiration from the crowd confirmed what he had known all along, that Marinette had created something truly special.

With each outfit change, Adrien was amazed by the range and versatility of Marinette's collection. From chic and sophisticated evening suits to funky and bold streetwear, her designs were a reflection of her own unique style and vision. He could see her personality shining through in every piece, and it made him admire her even more.

Throughout the show, Adrien couldn't help but steal glances at Marinette backstage. She was a flurry of activity, adjusting hems, pinning fabric, and giving last-minute instructions to the models. Her passion and dedication to her craft were evident in every move she made, and Adrien found himself falling even more in awe of her talent.

As he got dressed for the final look of the night, he couldn't contain his emotions. He clapped enthusiastically, along with the rest of the audience, as Marinette took her bow. Her smile was radiant, and he couldn't help but be utterly captivated by her beauty and grace.

After the show, Adrien rushed backstage to congratulate Marinette. She was surrounded by well-wishers, but when she spotted Adrien, her face lit up with delight. She approached him, and Adrien found himself at a loss for words, surprised to find himself turning pink as she gazed up at him with a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes.

"Adrien, thank you so much for modeling for me," Marinette said, her voice filled with gratitude. "You were amazing out there, and I couldn't have asked for a better muse."

Adrien scratched the back of his neck, feeling a surge of pride at Marinette's compliment. "It was my pleasure," he managed to say, finally finding his voice. "Your designs are incredible, Marinette. You're truly talented."

Marinette's cheeks reddened at Adrien's words, and she looked down bashfully. "Thank you," she murmured. "Coming from you, that really means a lot.”

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed them gently, causing her to look back at him. “I mean it, Marinette. You did such a great job tonight. All of Paris was looking at your designs. Someday soon you might even surpass my father.”

She giggled, her face lighting up with amusement. “You should watch yourself, then, Agreste. I might be putting you out of business.”

He threw his head back in a loud laugh. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Adrien then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, but don’t worry,” Marinette said after he moved back with a wink. “You’ll still have a job as my most treasured model.”

“I can’t wait,” Adrien said, a beam growing on his face as he imagined days of working with Marinette instead of his father. That would be the dream. 

Her mouth opened to say something else, but before she could, a voice frantically called her over. “Marinette, there’s someone who wants to talk with you!”

She winced, her gaze darting back and forth between the two of them before she sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. That’s my boss. I have to go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course.” He nodded, watching with fondness as she gave him a grateful smile before moving over to talk with her fellow co-workers. It was absolutely awe-inspiring how motivated she could get. It honestly reminded him of a certain superheroine...

Stepping out of the building, Adrien shivered slightly as the moon slowly rose over the Parisian skyline. Luckily, his bodyguard was waiting outside and he got to climb into the limo before he could get too cold. 

Leaning his head against the window, his thoughts drifted back to Marinette once again. He couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow. Hopefully, now that the last day of her internship had finally concluded, they would be able to hang out with each other more. 

Maybe... maybe he could take her to go get Andre’s ice cream this weekend. Yeah, that sounded really nice. With a plan settled in his mind, he straightened up, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his chest at the thought of this weekend.

[dibbiedabbiedoobie]

A Taste of Amontillado

Word Count: 3072 

Tags: soft vore, oral vore, micro vore, implied fatal vore

Author’s note: I really went and did this huh. Man. Wild. Sorry @novorehere​ I stole ur idea, I got too hyped up on writing juice. Apologies for typos and what not, I finished this and got too excited to not post.

I tried to mimic Poe's style, but he is simply so verbose that it was kind of killing me a bit? So it's probably a bit more modernized, though I did steal some lines/phrasing here and there (mostly in some of the dialogue) but for the most part it's an attempt at mimicry.

I don't usually write fatal but like... y’all know what the source material is, there was no other way for this to end. It’s non explicit, really only vaguely implied, so hopefully that isn't too off-putting because I think it came out well enough.

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne best I could, but his venture into insult was when I vowed revenge. You knew so well the nature of my soul, I could not fathom that you would imagine me foolish enough to utter such a threat; however, that same intimate knowledge, I imagine, will let you know that my conviction in vengeance - a vengeance so through and lengthy that Fortunato would know each and every depth of the misdeeds and misfortunes he had forced upon me - was resolute. My actions would, of course, go unknown, for he did not deserve the satisfaction of any retribution in his name.

You must understand, I ensured he would have no pretense to suspect this. In all word and deed, I was as well-mannered and courteous as I had been before; it would do no good if Fortunato came to realize the smiles I gave him now held beneath them the righteous fury of the archangels themselves.

My plan would have to be of the utmost cleverness, and of the utmost thoroughness. You see, he had a weakness, this Fortunato, though he might be respected - and perhaps even feared - in other regards: he prided himself as a connoisseur of wine. Very few Italians have this trueness of virtuoso spirit; most have their enthusiasm of the fine arts derived not from a passion, but from expectation, an attempt to match the effortless opulence of their British and Australian peers. As it came to painting and gemmary, Fortunato was no different; but with wine, he was one of the foremost experts. I did not differ from him in this fashion, either, having a palette similarly refined and a cellar stocked with the finest Italian vintages. Indeed, it was this palette we shared which coalesced in my mind the seed of the perfect act of vengeance.

I found my way, after this strike of inspiration, out of the comfortable villas in which myself and Fortunato made our homes, and into the darker, crowded slums of the less fortunate. I took great care to disguise myself, lest word spread to Fortunato or his cohorts of a man of my status mingling in with the beggars. I donned a ragged cloak of rough, beige fabrics borrowed from one of my newer servants, one who had yet to put to use the salary I offered to him. From another, I procured a dull white shirt and simple dark pants, to ensure I would look no different than those around me. In this dress in the late hours of the evening, carrying with me some wealth concealed in a small sack, I wove into the winding, silent streets.

My destination was to be a shack dull, rundown even by the standards of the neighborhood in which it lived. Within lived a man whose identity I shall keep vague, for purposes that will become clear to you by the end of this letter. I had met him a lifetime ago, when I lived in these very streets, before my name joined the ranks it had now. He was eccentric, enough to be avoided even by the dull-eyed, weary working class for whom very little could phase through the exhaustion of the daily toil for their bread, but not for me. Then, I held close the little bit of vitality that led me to my current station, and this man drew forth a curiosity I had thought almost gone from my spirit.

Through observation, I learned of a science so curious that it might be likened to magic. He carefully crafted elixirs for every occasion, ones that would give a man the strength of an ox, or the swiftness of a falcon. His wares were not cheap, and I had seen more than a few men and women scrape together the last of what they had seeking a cure for their ailment of poverty. What I carried with me was more than enough to cover not only typical costs, but the cost of what I suspected was to be a particularly tricky concoction to make.

There were few pleasantries between us after my arrival. He recognized me, and I him, but we did not acknowledge it. A lifetime of difference has made me into little more than another customer to him, though within my heart I still held some of the curiosity I had developed as a boy, which had matured to an odd fondness in adulthood. "I require a drink that will change the size of a creature," I said, not impolitely. "I wish them to be only a few inches tall, able to fit in the palm of a hand."

Typically, the man did not ask questions for those he provided services for, and it seems I was no different. Instead, he simply wished to know the specifics of what I needed made. "Permanently?"

"One to shrink, another to restore to previous size," I answered. I had no intent on using the latter, but I did not need him considering what I might do. If I asked for both, his assumption would most likely be smuggling - not that he was likely to tell anyone of this encounter at all. He had many secrets given to him by many people, and he would no doubt take all of them to his grave.

He told me the price, which was well within what I had budgeted for, and asked for my patience as he prepared it. This was to my shock, as I had expected such a spell to take far more time and resources, and yet in hardly 30 minutes he was handing me two small vials. One, a dull, deep sanguine, nearly the color of blood, he said was to shrink; the other, a deep, tarrish black, was to grow. I placed them both securely within my pouch and turned to exit.

As I left, he spoke to me. "Montresor," he said, voice thin and wispy. I had not expected to be addressed, least of all by a name I imagined he had long forgotten. "Take care that this rage does not drown you."

"I do not intend to," I replied, voice again not unkind, and took my leave.

It was during the dusk hours some months later, during the frenzy of carnival season, that I encountered my friend. Fortunato accosted me with a gregariousness only gotten from drinking very much in little time. In place of his usual fine silks, he wore motley, a tight fitted, parti-striped dress, and upon his head rested the fool's cap, tipped with bells. I was so pleased to see him, I had nearly wrung his hand dry.

"My dearest Fortunato! How wonderfully well you look today! I am in great fortune to have found you this evening. You see, I have received a pipe of what I was told was Amontillado, but I have my worries."

"How?" he demanded. "Amontillado? A pipe? In the middle of the carnival?! Impossible!"

"I have my doubts," I replied, "yet I was silly enough to pay the full price Amontillado without consulting you in the matter. You could not be found, and I was fretful of losing a bargain."

"Amontillado!"

"I have my doubts."

"Amontillado!"

"And I must satisfy them."

"Amontillado!"

"As it seems you are occupied, I am on my way to Luchesi. If anyone has a discerning taste, it is he. He will tell me-"

Fortunato sneered, an ugly, exaggerated contortion of his face. "Luchesi could not tell Amontillado from Sherry."

"Yet some fools will have it that his taste is as much a match for your own."

"Come, let us go." Fortunato's tone changed abruptly, from a drunken rage to a drunken focus.

"Where to?"

"To your vaults."

"My friend, I could not! I will not impose upon your generosity. I see that you are engaged. Luchesi-"

"I have no engagement. Come."

"No, my friend, you do not understand. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you to be afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp, encrusted with nitre. I do not wish for you to fall ill."

"Let us go. The cold is nothing. Luchesi cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado, and I will not have you fooled." Thusly, Fortunato took my arm, placed upon his face a mask of blackened silk, drew a roquelaire closely about my person, and hurried me to my plazzo.

I had ensured that there would be no attendants home, releasing them to make merry at the festivities. The kindness was not an unusual trait for me, and in fact was what made me desirable as an employer to many, as I did not have the cruelty endowed from birth into wealth as the others around me had been. They did not need to stay out the entire night, but I knew that they would jump on the chance to relax from their duties and would not return until they had thoroughly sated their carnal desires.

I pulled from my pocket the red elixir. "Here," I said, offering it to him. "It is a drink that will warm you from the inside, better than wine. I acquired it intending to use it during cold winter nights, but I feel it may suit you better now."

Fortunato took the vial from me, and, without hesitation, removed the top and drank it all. He shuddered a moment, face contorting again in response to what I could only assume was an unpleasant flavor. "Next time, ask your friend to make something that tastes more akin to the wine it is meant to mimic."

"I shall be sure to inform him," I replied, then waited just a moment. Though I didn't know what exactly to expect, I came to realize that Fortunato's quivers had not ceased, and instead had increased in strength. "Are you alright, friend?"

"That liquid you gave me... what was in it?" Fortunato doubled over and dropped to his knees. I swiftly dropped with him.

"It should have just been some herbs," I said. "It should not have-"

I cut off in shock as, beneath my fingers, Fortunato's frame began to dwindle. His back dropped from my touch as he shrank in stature, falling from a man taller than I to hardly a few inches tall. With him diminished his clothing, leaving him with the appearance of a life-like jester doll. "My god! Fortunato!" I cried.

Fortunato seemed to be in just as much shock as myself, frozen stiff and staring down at himself as if he had never seen himself before in his life. I imagined my face was similar, but unlike Fortunato, I recovered quite quickly as I had expected exactly this result and had only been shocked by the process itself.

"Montresor! What on earth was in the vial you gave me?!"

"I truly do not know. I have used them many times in the past, including from the very batch I gave to you." I offered my hand, for Fortunato had begun shaking quite badly in what I believed was not a transformation, but of chill. "Here. You are trembling, and it was not particularly warm here before. I do not wish you to freeze tonight."

Fortunato stumbled forward, obviously unsure in his body at this size, but managed to pull himself into my palm. Now, with my hand to provide scale, I could see that he was roughly 4 or 5 inches tall, and there was a weight to him which one would not expect from such a small frame, and an odd sort of density to him that my experience with animals of a similar size did not prepare me for.

I rose and adjusted my grip to securely hold Fortunato about his middle, tilting him upright and allowing his hands to come and rest upon my fingers, legs left to dangle beneath him.

"My god..." Fortunato muttered, doubtless staring at the fall he would have if I let him go; I was not particularly tall, but at his stature it would surely end in death. "Montresor, you must fix this!"

I considered, for a moment, if I would continue to play along with Fortunato. I did have the whole night to do so, but did not want to test whether or not one of my servants would return at some point during the night. Further, the front with which I had maintained the illusion of care had become more and more burdensome to maintain as revenge grew closer to my grasp. Now, with him at my mercy, I did not wish to pretend as if I was going to help him.

No, instead I said, "I will, my friend. However, you continue to shiver. We must get you warmed."

"We must get me fixed!"

"You mustn't fight me, friend. I am only trying to help you." I lifted him higher, to my face, and opened my mouth. From here, there would be no more taunting, but I did not find myself so inclined to verbal cruelty as to be bothered - truly, I would follow in Fortunato's footsteps in causing pain in deed, not word.

He, however, would not follow in mine, choosing instead to resist his fate rather than accept it silently as I had for so long. I lowered him onto my tongue, and his boots kicked upon it in the most peculiar way. They tasted of dirt and rubber, as one might expect, but I had not gone into this concerned with ensuring Fortunato tasted pleasantly.

At this point, I knew that Fortunato's intoxication had worn off in great measure, for he was moving with greater fear than that of a dulled drunk, and seemed to be growing more aware of the peril which he was in. From his throat came a low wail, a cry that came coupled with writhing against my grip. Then, as I continued to lower him, now curling my tongue about his legs to ensure they would not catch my throat.

He was about half way into my mouth when I found myself needing to readjust my hold. I paused, pinning him with my lips. I pinched his sides, ensuring that his arms would be pinned, and found myself supporting him upwards much akin to how one would hold a canape. During this, his moans subsided, and he began to struggle with a renewed vigor, a vigor that went largely unappreciated as he was so weak and frail at this size.

With my hand positioned properly, I pushed him in further, until I could just feel his feet scraping the back of my tongue. It was at this point, in which he was chest deep into my jaws, that shrill, loud screams burst suddenly from the depths of his throat. Of course, at his size, the volume would have never been heard by anyone but myself and perhaps another within the room, but he was most definitely shrieking himself hoarse.

I removed my hand, now focused on ensuring that Fortunato was thoroughly soaked. His clothes tasted of little, and I found myself only observing that they became drenched quickly enough. Within the tight confines of my mostly closed mouth, his struggles were all but negligible. Certain now that he would not cause me to choke, I flicked my head back and swallowed very strongly.

For all of his resistance, Fortunato's small body slid very easily into my throat, and his head slipped out of view with a similar alacrity. Instinctively, I swallowed again, and just barely felt the dusting of metal upon my tongue before it slipped downwards. I placed a hand to my throat, beneath which came a sizable bulge, working steadily deeper into my body. 

Evolution crafted a finely effective machine in the body of a man, and very swiftly Fortunato had disappeared from view beneath my collarbone. Soon, borne from the same efficiency that had begun his journey, I felt a tightness within my chest, and then Fortunato spilled into my belly. I gasped, for it was a feeling I had never conceived possible. 

The same odd density I had felt with my hands had turned into a weight within the pit of my stomach that I had never felt with any meal I had in the past; I would liken it almost to swallowing stone, but be not mistaken in the concept that it was somehow uncomfortable. Rather, it was intensely pleasurable. It was a fullness that I did not think any traditional food could ever match, and the predator that had long been dormant within my hind-brain rose from its slumber to express as such. It felt that, now that I had fed so thoroughly, I should swiftly find a place in which to rest and process what I had eaten.

Within me, Fortunato began to move, and yet again I found myself with an experience no other man had been privy to in Earth’s history. I did not imagine a stomach was exactly meant to process the sensation of food moving within, yet I could place, with some level of uncertainty, the directions and intensity with which he threw his limbs about. With time, however, his movement subsided.

Muffled, yet audible, I heard his voice. It was a sad voice, one so laden with sorrow that I would not recognize it as Fortunato if I had not the absolute certainty that it was his. “Ha! Ha ha! A very good joke, Montresor! An excellent jest! It will be a fond memory, one we will have a rich laugh of over our wine when you release me!”

“The Amontillado!” I said.

“Ha! Yes! The Amontillado! But it surely must be late. Will they not be expecting us at the palazzo, Lady Fortunato and the others? We should be gone.”

“Yes,” I said. “We should be gone.”

“For the love of God, Monstresor!”

“Yes,” I said. “For the love of God!”

To these words, however, I got no reply. Impatiently, I waited, then gave my middle a firm probe. I called, “Fortunato!”

No reply. I called again, “Fortunato!”

Still, no reply. Indeed, he did not respond to my ministrations either. My heart grew sick, no doubt from the chill of the night. I left Fortunato to be, and closed the door to my cellar. Softly, soft enough that not even Fortunato might have heard, I whispered, “In pace re quiescat.”

[call-me-double-trouble]

What is DT favorite types of outfits

I'm a fashion nerd, so this answer got kinda long, so I'll put it under a cut to spare the mobile viewers.

Well, we only see DT in two different outfits: their main outfit and their Princess Prom outfit. Both tell us something about what kinds of styles DT prefers, though likely don't encompass all the styles they like.

Notice that the Princess Prom outfit is in pastels, yet their main outfit is all black (or black and dark green, if you don't see those dark green bits as black mesh). This tells me that they do like color, especially colors that compliment their skin tone. Obviously the all-black is very sleek, but they have no problem donning pastels.

One thing these two outfits have in common is that they're both tight and streamline (minus the coat in the prom outfit). Sure, their main outfit is more skintight than the prom outfit, but still, they opted for a pencil skirt rather than something full and flowy, which tells me they prefer a streamline silhouette. They also seem like the type to be confident enough to want to show off their figure, an idea further exemplified by the cutouts in their main outfit. Yes, the cutouts serve a function (letting their tail out), but they don't technically have to be that revealing to do their job, so I think DT enjoys showing a little skin and has the confidence to do so. Even more so if you interpret the dark green parts of their outfit as mesh. They know they're hot, and they're not afraid to show off, so I definitely think DT prefers something tight and revealing.

Both outfits also feature a high neckline and heels, so that's probably a recurring theme in their wardrobe.

As for accessories, they don't accessorize at all in their main outfit, which makes sense, as I don't know what limits they have as to shapeshifting clothing--it may be that they simply can't shapeshift earrings, so they don't wear them (despite all the free real estate for jewelry they're packing on those massive friggin' ears). This might not be the case, and maybe they avoid jewelry to look more gender-neutral, or maybe they just don't want it getting caught on something. Of course, they do wear earrings, a choker, and a belt at Princess Prom, though this is a formal event, so obviously they'd dress up more for it, so clearly they don't mind wearing jewelry, but they likely prefer it for more fancy occasions.

I should also mention that DT's main outfit fits very well with them being a spy. All black, sleek, nothing to get snagged or caught on anything, nothing too attention-grabbing so they can blend in with the shadows and slip by unnoticed, while also being stylish enough to show a bit of their own personal touch.

They're never seen in makeup as themselves (of course, Prince Peekablue wears some, but they were in character, so it doesn't count), which I imagine is either because they can't shapeshift makeup or they feel they don't appear as androgynous with makeup and avoid it for that reason. This is also presuming their winged lash is real (or shapeshifted) and not eyeliner, which it technically could be, I don't know. This bit is all speculation.

If Princess Prom is anything to go off of, DT likes feminine-leaning styles, though this isn't to say they never wear anything masc (as I said, we only see them in 2 outfits, so it's not much to go off of). Their main outfit feels pretty androgynous to me, and I wouldn't say it leans too heavily one way or they other. You could argue that the heels are traditionally feminine, or that the green triangles on the top make it look like they have a bit of a sweetheart neckline shape, but tbh, I still think this outfit is predominantly gender-neutral. Although we don't see them in something more masc leaning, I wouldn't rule it out (plus, they look very dashing in a button-up shirt or a suit).

So to sum it all up, I think DT's preference is for something tight, sleek, and tastefully revealing, paired with heels. Probably mostly in the androgynous range with light accessorizing, no makeup, and probably a high neckline. I can't say for certain what colors they gravitate towards, as black and lavender are on very different sides of the color wheel, so I'd just say they wear what looks good with their green skin.

They clearly have a sense of fashion and drama, so I doubt they ever wear anything too casual or too simple. They definitely seem very high-fashion, runway model--whether or not their clothing actually IS expensive, I have no idea, since they're a fictional character, but judging by the fur coat they wore to prom, I'd say they want to look expensive. They want to look like they sleep on silk sheets and roll naked in money, regardless of whether that's actually true or not.

Big THANK YOU to everyone who got to the end of all that! I know it was a lot.

[ruki--mukami]

Hello Admin! Just wanted to ask you some small scenario of Ruki's reaction after hearing his s/o ask him to decorate the house together with autumn/Halloween decorations? Since it's the season his s/o would be very excited to celebrate it 🥺

"Fine, I hear you, Livestock. We'll decorate the house since you begged for it so nicely by now. The idea of a Vampire has strayed quite far from the original, yet even so I suppose it's better we embellish the manor than don strange costumes ourselves. Of course, you are more than welcome to dress up, but I, on the other hand, couldn't care less. Let's start with the dining room and then work our way outside. Here, take the end of this tablecloth."

A pattern of cobwebs, thousands of bats, and crows perched atop leafless trees adorned the oblong cloth spread as Ruki and his beloved each took the corners and arranged it across the table with its candelabras and timeless, golden chinaware for the Halloween meal to follow. Several balloons of matching design surrounded the perimeter of each room as well within the Mukami manor, some shaped like bats and their wings itself and others floating in iridescent silver to resemble that of ghosts and apparitions of night. The elegant printed fabric draped neatly, almost touching the floor, around each edge of the table in an equal manner without any lopsidedness throwing Ruki's scrutinizing gaze into a deeper scowl.

"Careful with that. We don't want to knock over any of the silverware," he cautioned as they folded the old tablecloth together and took great care in storing it away. "Ah, now we can place the candles."

The inviting aroma of freshly baked pumpkin shortbread, the autumn afternoon of fallen leaves, and harvest apple picked from the orchard permeated the room once the Vampire ignited the wicks in a flash. Tiny orange embers set the manor aglow with its radiance, serving as the ultimate centerpieces. Traipsing the entryways, Ruki held firmly onto black and purple tinseled garlands as you clutched the other end, watching him step on a stool to furnish the gap between the top of the door and the ceiling in its glittery glory. Sequined pumpkin cut-outs and other ghastly creatures accentuated the festoon, emitting a gentle jingling noise as his slender fingers threaded through the metallic strips. One could quickly tell from his somewhat unamused visage that he hung the spangles with hesitation, certain of how unbecoming it was for a demon to forsake his origins in favor of human-imposed traditions. Stepping foot on the carpet once more, he turned to face you, then looked back up at the embellishments.

"How ridiculous... The familiars could've easily set these up for us. However, when I decorate the house the old-fashioned way with you, it's as though I'm human again. Ideally there should be no reason for a Vampire to resort to ladders and other mundane tools, but it's oddly soothing knowing you and I selected these ornaments together. Kou and the others would adore these decorations as well," he finally smiled. "Although I must admit I don't mind looking at them either."

Snaking his arm around your shoulder, Ruki sneaked a kiss on your cheek and chuckled at the imminent blush dusting them thereafter.

"Come now, Livestock. We still have the jack-o-lanterns to display."

[schneebriated]

Fashion

Yang was leading Willow through a fashion store. “So a lunch date, warm weather, city near the beach? You’re going to blow Ren’s mind Mrs Nicator~”

She led Willow to a mirror and turned her to it.

“Okay, Willow, you’re a Sexy.” She whistled then laughed. “Seriously though ‘a sexy’ is like, it’s a body type, a look. It means you need something that accentuates your curves. Something that looks scandalous on most girls, but natural on you!”

She pulled on her jacket collar.

“The whole 'jacket and jeans’ look works for me, and you DO work a suit, but it looks like- I mean. You look good in one cause you’re a beautiful lady, not because suits are your thing. They suit Winter! She’s more tall and dramatic. You need more skin, more tightness, more exposure, and your colours. You’re a Winter so dark colours will accentuate your skin.”

She handed Willow a broad, black hat, semi-transparent. A black string bikini, a black tube top and strappy, just under the knee sandals, with a very tight, long, high waist black skirt with a split to her lower thigh on both sides. Lastly, a pair of aviator glasses.

“Try these on!”

Again, Yang had shown up out of nowhere while Willow was out and decided she needed to tag along. Ignoring her didn’t work, so eventually, she caved and explained what she was doing.

“  Sexy isn’t an actual measurement I can use, ” Willow responded dryly, glancing over her body in the mirror. While she was grateful she hadn’t lost too much of her waist in her pregnancies, it also made it very hard to find good form fitting clothes that also fit her hips and chest. Just about everything needed to be customized for her.

“ Mmm, a suit would feel too professional, ” the Schnee shook her head in agreement with Yang. She was no longer a businesswoman tied to the SDC—she was an empress. That meant she should dress opulently, as royals did, right? But how much would be too much when it was just her and Ren?

“ What works for my daughter doesn’t necessarily work for me, Yang, ” Willow said with a sundress pressed to her body for evaluation, “ too much contrast clashes with my skin and hair—I’ll look like an albino. ”

Of course, Yang was already in the process of picking out clothes and shoving them into Willow’s hands, so she sighed and played along. Ditching the dresses, she donned the beachwear Yang chose.

“ ...Hm, ” Willow finally said after a few seconds of looking herself over.

“ I like the style, but... it’s far too much black. It needs more color. ”

[the-b-journal]

Lady Miss Detty Episode 2 Truth Talking - The Essay 13 June 2024

How I Started Loving Men in Wigs

I witnessed a live drag performance for the first time ever yesterday and it was E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

It was my first time attending a pride-related event and it did NOT disappoint. I had so much fun with Rica and some of my friends from class. We were dancing and singing and just having a great time. I still can't believe i got to see Maxie and all the other amazing queens. I've always loved international drag queens but seeing some local ones, let alone from my own university, i cannot stress enough how incredibly proud i was.

I discovered drag back in 2020 when there was a pandemic going on and i had nothing better to do than scroll thru tiktok. Every now and then i would come across some videos of Trixie and Katya from their show UNHhhh. Back then, i had no idea who they were. I'm aware that they're men dressed as women, of course, but i didn't know that it's called drag and that there is a whole world centered around it. Still, i found myself finishing and liking their videos because they make me laugh and also because i was very attracted to the both of them (i still am!)

One day, i came across this video of Katya and Violet where they were doing a Fashion Photo Ruview of their season 7 sisters. I'm not even joking one bit when i tell you that my heart literally stopped when i saw that video of Violet for the first time. She was wearing this dominatrix leather outfit and she had like a half-up, half-down black wig with styling at the front (i don't know how to fucking describe a wig please spare me) and thought, "Oh my god. I've never seen a more beautiful human being in my life." And when i heard her laugh for the first time in that same video? It was over for me. I was done. She got me from that moment.

Until now, the effect she has on me is insane. She's just so unnaturally beautiful and confident and i fucking love her for it. Her drag aesthetic is IT for me. I was so into her that i made a drag race twitter stan account four years ago because i was going out of my mind keeping my love for her to myself. I think my account lasted for a good couple of months then i had to delete it because she did something stupid and people were hating on her. During that time, i accumulated quite a number of followers and made a couple of hit tweets about Violet making me known as one of the Violet Chacki stan account.

My account was doing so good and i made some drag race friends and i really felt like i was part of a community. But then shit hit the fan and people started accusing her of doing something bad so i decided to just delete it permanently. I'm a libra making me very bad at confrontations and there was no way in hell i'm gonna fight for my life everyday trying to defend her name when she doesn't even know i existed. And i think whatever people were saying about her, some of them was probably true. Because no matter how much i love her and how beautiful she is, she's still just a person. She's still a man.

So i left drag race stan twitter and just focused on other queens that aren't Violet. Mainly, Trixie and Katya. Talking about them and what their friendship means to me will never fail to make me emotional. Their videos are what started this whole thing for me and i cannot be grateful enough that those two white bald men exists. I remember back then, i was going through something rough and the only thing that got me through the day was their UNHhhh and I Like To Watch videos. In the process of getting to know T & K, i also got to know drag race and RuPaul and the thousands of other queens that the show produced. For some people it's reversed. They usually watch drag race first and after watching the queen on the show then they would watch other videos or shows that that queen has been on.

For me though, this might be a controversial take, but i actually don't watch drag race. The competing aspect of it is not for me. I don't like watching them lose and be sent home. It breaks my heart every single time. No matter who the queen is. So what i do instead is that if a queen on the show piqued my interest whether it be because of how she looked or how she performs, etc., then i would search her on youtube and start hyper fixating on her for a couple of weeks like a freaking neurotic. That way, i would actually know what that queen's personality is when there is no pressure of competition. This is just my personal take, everybody's different and me, personally, i don't really appreciate competitive shows.

With that being said, i'm going to confess that i've actually never finished a full season of drag race. I almost did with All Stars 7 but i think i got kinda busy so i just forgot about it. Drag race philippines too but i stopped watching when Brigiding got elimanated because she was my bias and i was rooting for her so hard that i cannot bring myself to watch her leave and not make it to the finale. Almost too with Marina on UK vs the World but again, i never finished it for some reason. I used to be embarrassed about this little fact but i think there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I love these queens because they deserve it and work hard for it. Whether i finished their season on drag race or not doesn't really fucking matter.

I'm thinking of writing more about Trixie and Katya but i think they deserve an essay that is solely about them. They have helped me through so much of my shit in life that i feel like as long as i have them and they exist and they're doing their thing, then i'll be fine. I have never had this kind of attachment to other celebrities and it shows just how much they mean to me.

I want to end this essay by saying that i am very grateful to be a part of the LGBTQIA+ community. I mean yeah the idea of coming out to my parents and my relatives knowing i like women scares the shit out of me not because i'm afraid they're not gonna accept me (well i care about that a little bit) but mainly because i don't want to give them something to talk about. Just imagining them talking shit about me being gay behind my back makes me want to bash my head into the nearest wall.

But experiencing what i experienced yesterday, the solidarity of the queer people in my university, all kinds of people being their most authentic self without giving a single fuck, makes me feel so proud and happy to be a part of it. People can talk about us all they want but at the end of day, we're free. We're not doing anything wrong and we're not afraid to pursue what makes us happy even though in the eyes of many people, it's wrong.

I LOVE BEING QUEER AND I LOVE DRAG QUEENS !!!!

I cannot wait to attend more drag shows in the near future. I'm literally imagining spending my non existent money on buying show tickets and making it rain on the queens. It's my dream.

Again, if you reached this point, i love u!

HAPPY PRIDE : )))))))))

Xoxo

[dankusner]

KNOCK IT OFF: Jackie's pink suit in Big D

Kennedy took image, organization seriously

First lady’s wardrobe list for fateful 1963 Texas visit reveals her preparation for appearances

Jacqueline Kennedy’s recently resurfaced packing list for the fateful autumn trip to Texas she took with her then-husband, President John F. Kennedy, contains plenty of interest for fashion historians. In the margins of the weekend’s itinerary, which she had written out for her personal assistant, the first lady scheduled the visit outfit by outfit. For the day of Nov. 21, 1963, her look would be head-to-toe Chanel: a white coat, skirt and blouse, with a black hat atop her head and a gold-and-navy bracelet on her wrist (“safety pin,” she wrote underneath, perhaps in reference to its clasp).

In the evening, she would don a black velvet dress with satin shoes and white kid gloves. And of course, the jewelry had been considered: pearls with a diamond bracelet and earrings.

Kennedy was not one to leave room for surprises. But even the best-laid plans can change.

The gloves, for one, surfaced on her descent from Air Force One in Houston, paired with the daytime Chanel suit. If she wore the bracelet, it went unseen. And the days that followed would stray much further from the first lady’s notes.

Her bloodstained pink Chanel suit tells more acutely than any other image the story of what happened in Dallas on Friday, Nov. 22.

But the notes she prepared for her personal assistant, Providencia Paredes, read as stage directions for a weekend of political theater and a catalog of the wardrobe that made her the most fashionable first lady of the 20th century, referenced by her successors to this day. Kennedy was best known, during her time in the White House, for the uniform of her public appearances: the tailored skirt suits, shift dresses, layered pearls, white gloves and pillbox hats photographed around the world.

But her leisure wear — the equestrian gear, swimsuits and cotton summer clothes immortalized in photos of family trips — also became a part of her visual imprint.

Many of those signature items were penciled into the itinerary for the Texas trip, including suits and dresses in summery shades of yellow, blue and green, and riding clothes for an appointment at Lyndon B. Johnson’s ranch on Nov. 23.

There are many mentions in her notes of Oleg Cassini, the designer who became Kennedy’s personal dressmaker in 1961: a green wool suit (“for Mex not used”), a white crepe coat, a short pink crepe dress, a long mauve one, an orange coat and dress (“silk — worn in Udaipur, India — on lake”).

Another favorite of the first lady, Gustave Tassell, appears on the packing list for a baby blue dress that Kennedy also wore in India.

Her detailed lists, many of which make reference to past manifestations of the dresses, are a view into the mind of a woman who took both image and organization very seriously. Stacey Bredhoff, the curator of the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston, described Kennedy as a “meticulous planner” who concerned herself with every detail of ceremonial events: the guest lists, the menus, the seating arrangements, the flowers and of course the clothes.

The museum’s collection contains 95 of her dresses, including the white Chanel suit she wore on Nov. 21 and the orange silk Cassini dress from the state visit to India.

“We don’t have everything that she wore as first lady,” said James Wagner, the Kennedy museum’s exhibit specialist, “but our understanding is that once she left the White House, as far as we can tell, things that she wore at public events or during official travels, she set those aside and didn’t wear them again after 1963 with the intent that she would deed them to the library for our collection and for potential display in our museum.”

Some of the first lady’s best-known garments reside in and around the federal capital.

The pink suit is being kept under climate-controlled wraps outside of Washington by the National Archives and Records Administration, barred from public view until 2103. Kennedy’s inauguration dress, by Ethel Frankau of Bergdorf Goodman under her direction, is kept at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.

In 2003, Paredes and Mary B. Gallagher, the first lady’s personal secretary, consigned together a number of Kennedy items.

Those that sold included some of Kennedy’s squaretoe leather shoes, her nightgowns and sleep bonnets, and cotton summer dresses, which had not been kept in the best condition.

It’s one of the reasons so many of her archived items are seldom seen.

“One thing about the dresses is that they are very fragile, and the best thing you can do to take care of them is to keep them stored in a cool, dark place,” Bredhoff said. “So we’re very careful about how much time they can be out on display, exposed to the light and so on.” In their thoughtful, organized detail, though, the notes from the Texas trip might say more about the first lady than the clothes ever could. Bonnie Wertheim, The New York Times

Chez Ninon worked with Chanel in an agreement known as "Line for Line" it was Chanel's true pattern, Chanel fabric and trim- actually from Rue Cambon- so It was as Chanel as one could get without going to Paris- Balenciaga did something similar with his Eisa line sold in Spai

[stonexjewellersnz]

How to Nail Every Look with Pearl Jewellery

 Are you a moonchild? Or are you just in love in love with pearls?

Whatever the case, Pearls have a something that’s hard to get off our minds. 

And everything that you need for a chic, elegant look. 

Whether you're attending a formal event or dressing up for a casual day out, a well-chosen pearl necklace can be transform your outfit. Black pearl necklaces, real pearl necklaces, and gold pearl jewellery are just a few of the stunning options at your disposal. 

In this blog, we'll show you how to accessorise with pearl jewellery and turn heads like the showstopper you are!

Pearl Jewellery - The Best Among All

Pearls, often referred to as nature's gems, have much more to them than their ethereal sheen and unique texture. Black pearls, in particular, are captivating with their dark, mysterious allure. 

Their unique colour adds a touch of sophistication to any outfit. When you opt for a black pearl necklace, you're making a bold statement that draws attention to your impeccable taste.

Also read: Maintain Your Pearl Jewellery With These 8 Simple Tips

Pearl Jewellery Essentials For Your Wardrobe

If you’re new to pearls or never owned pearl jewellery before, it’s your cue to start with a pearl necklace. 

A real pearl necklace is the symbol of class, and if you want to exude luxury and sophistication at the same time, Pearls make for an excellent choice.  

The best thing about Pearls is that they can be worn with almost any outfit without being outshone, and they go well with most of the skin tones. 

Start off with a simple pair of pearl earrings studs. If you want to spruce it up, put on a pearl pendant NZ. The best outfit for such jewellery can be a simple cardigan, jeans and pumps, or perhaps a stylish blazer, blouse and pencil skirt. 

Classic vs. Contemporary Styles

If you think Pearls have no place in the modern fashion landscape, you’re wrong. Time and again world-renowned fashion houses When it comes to pearl jewellery, there's a style for every taste. 

Classic pearl necklaces, like the timeless strand of pearls, never go out of fashion. Meanwhile, contemporary designs introduce fresh and innovative ways to wear pearls. Pair your black pearl necklace with minimalist gold pearl jewellery for a chic and modern look.

You might also like: Your Guide to Choosing the Best Dress Jewellery in NZ

Care and Maintenance

I don’t remember this but someone once said, “Love your pearls and they’ll love you back.” I might have just completely made that up but I mean it. 

Just like silver and gold jewellery, pearls need a little care too or they can start to lose their sheen. For a thorough yet simple Pearl care, avoid exposing your pearls to chemicals and perfumes, as they can run your precious gems. 

This is a basic prerequisite when owning pearls. When not wearing your pearls, store them separately in a soft pouch to prevent scratches.

Mixing and Layering

I couldn’t have been more excited at this. Layering is one of the most fun and creative parts of wearing your jewellery that makes it look unique in every sense. 

Don’t hesitate to experiment — in fact, try layering your pearl necklace with a gold choker, or a sleek silver chain. You can even pair a gold pearl ring with a sleek gold band — making it a two piece set. 

However, make sure you don’t overdo it. The essence of mixing and layering jewellery pieces is to show one piece as a strong one while others complement it. 

Celebrity Inspirations

Covered in diamonds but swap it with pearls — when it came to a look replete with pearls, some celebrities took it to a whole different level. For instance, Kim Kardashian donned a thousand or more pearls as her ensemble on the iconic Met Gala, leaving the paparazzi in awe. 

And of course, how can we forget about the idol Audrey Hepburn — who made a mark with her iconic pearl necklace in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" which has to date been an inspiration for fashion-nerds. 

Wherever you go, you’ll always find someone in Hollywood and beyond making the most of pearls, often gracing red carpets with no regrets. 

DIY Pearl Jewellery

I’ve a feeling this might be your favourite! You might have played or seen those DIY jewellery kits for kids. What if I told you that you don’t need to live vicariously through kids having a nice time with plastic jewellery?

Yes, individual Pearls are less expensive and can be strung in your choice of jewellery. With a pearl pendant NZ and a gold chain, consider the job done! If you’re feeling a little more crafty, make a unique pearl bracelet with a cute charm in it. 

Make sure to source your supplies from the local market or from a source you trust. With the right supplies, you can make handmade pearl earrings or necklace on your own and still get complimented as if it were bought rightaway! 

Sourcing High-Quality Pearls

Like Diamonds, pearls have a quality separating criteria too. There are different types of pearls available throughout the world or in different regions. One of the most valuable pearl is the Freshwater pearl, that develops in non-saline waters. Then there’s Tahitian or black pearls, that are indiginous to Polynesian waters.

Sometimes, fake Pearls can be mistaken for real ones. To safeguard your investment, always check for certifications while purchasing pearls. 

If you already own an item and want to know if it consists real pearls, you can check through simple, non-invasive Pearl originality tests and learn how to maintain them if they’re real.

Conclusion

Pearl jewellery is for people with conventional style of fashion. But it also for those who decide to bend the norms and like it bold. Whichever way you choose, you’ll end up looking like a star! 

Thanks to these gems of nature that fashion can be fun thing to try. Yet, we sometimes let our doubts get the best of us and make secondary choices. Hopefully with these tips, you can get more confidence to show your pearls to the world and make your ensemble perfect. 

Till then, slay everyday with Pearls!How to Nail Every Look with Pearl Jewellery

[ariajonesstyle]

THE BEST DAD OUTFITS FROM THE 1990S

In the last ten years, contemporary men's fashion has gotten a little bland. There is very little innovation with the standard t-shirt and jeans outfits, which may be the result of a societal shift or simply a generational issue. Thankfully, the popularity of 90s dad fashion is changing things once more in exciting ways.

Everything that was fashionable just few decades ago will eventually become popular again, it is frequently remarked that fashion is a loop. Exactly this is what we are presently witnessing. This transition had already occurred for a while, but after the epidemic everyone started to dress in sweatsuits as a matter of course.

People are much more willing to experiment and express themselves through their wardrobe now that the globe is starting to open up again after a two-year break. What better technique to accomplish this purpose than by utilizing the most intriguing, suspenders-loving fashions? But what precisely is the nineties dad look, and how can you recreate it in the world of modern fashion? Let us investigate.

WHAT KIND OF DAD OUTFIT IS DORKY? The simplest definition of a dorky dad attire is a look popular among middle-aged men in the 1990s. Wearing dad clothes from the latter decade of the 20th century is just one aspect of the contemporary dad style fad, though. In other words, rather than accurately replicating it, this approach focuses more on imitating it.

However, the trademark dorky dad outfits are still a significant component. The key distinction is that dads in the 1990s wore these clothes on a regular basis. When the twenty-first century arrived, the younger generation described those costumes as odd and ungainly. Now, donning the Harington jacket-topped star clothes of that era while acknowledging that they are not "normal" and a little out there is all part of the present nineties look.

HOW DOES A DAD APPEAR? A dad appearance is essentially anything that is comfy and functional. With all forms of 90s dad attire, you will see this concept often used. For instance, nothing even comes close to the popularity of balancing shoes in the realm of footwear. Dads may spend the entire day on their feet without experiencing foot pain thanks to these running shoes, which makes them ideal for dads.

A teen could consider a pair of shorts uncool if they are worn with running shoes and sparkly white socks. But because this outfit is both useful and comfy, the man who is wearing them will continue to do so. So, when creating your nineties dad style clothing, keep this "rule" in mind. This is another reason why items like skinny jeans are not considered dad fashion as many people find them to be quite uncomfortable.

COOL DAD STYLE TRANSFORMATION We have spoken a lot so far about nineties dad fashion, which was regarded to be uncool for the younger generation, and how it is currently in style at the pinnacle of men's fashion. However, parents of the 1990s also wore a lot of clothing that is still fashionable now.

Outerwear was the apex of these fashionable products. Dad jackets from the 1990s still hold the same prominence in men's fashion as they had more than 20 years ago.

THE ART OF GETTING THE DAD LOOK

Confidence is all you need to effectively pull off the nineties dad looks. Although it may sound cliche, this is the reality. Younger people have always criticized the dad appearance as being "lame" and "embarrassing," and the same is true with modern dad clothes, vests, and all. Why do dads still dress that way, then? Why don't they forgo their casual sense of style in favor of the newest flamboyant clothes and fashion trends? because they feel good about the clothes they are wearing.

LAST WORDS: Most of these trends had been entirely dropped by the turn of the twenty-first century. The 1990s were a treasure mine of bizarre yet classic fashion fads. But because of the cycle that is the fashion industry, trends will eventually return. The dad outfits from the 1990s are experiencing something similar, but with a twist.

Young people are now adopting that sense of style instead of middle-aged males. Additionally, the contemporary reinterpretation of this fashion is designed to embrace all of i ts eccentric and distinctive features just as they were during a twenty-year period.