#the lace on the dress is pretty nice too! wasn’t expecting that

[skyedancer2006]

SHES HERE

Silly goober

Perfect lap and hugging size! Is she supposed to wrap her tendrils around my arm though?

[gf2bellamy]

So you know that one scene where Rossi comes to an briefing session in a tux because the bau got summoned last minute? Could I please request fem!reader coming to an evening meeting all dressed up because she was at a party and didn’t have time to change when she was called? And Spencer is a complete blushing mess because his crush looks so pretty?

distracted — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader wearing a dress, mention of nice perfume a/n: thank you for your request !!! i hope you like this <3

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, sealing you in as you let out an exasperated sigh. You glanced down at yourself, smoothing out the fabric of your dress as if that would make it any less noticeable. The deep color clung to your frame in a way your usual work attire never did, the hem brushing just above your knees, heels clicking softly against the floor.

This was not how you had expected your night to go. 

You had been at a party, actually enjoying yourself for once, when your phone buzzed in your clutch. Hotch’s name had flashed across the screen, and just like that, the night had taken a turn.

Now, instead of sipping a drink and making polite small talk, you were about to walk into the BAU’s conference room—filled with your very serious, very observant coworkers—wearing something completely out of character. 

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders as the elevator dinged at your floor. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just a dress. It was just your team. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen you outside of work before. 

But still, the moment you stepped out into the hallway, you found yourself walking a little slower. You reached the door to the conference room and hesitated for only a second before pushing it open. 

The room fell momentarily silent. Then— 

A low whistle. 

“Damn, sweetheart, you clean up nice.” Derek Morgan’s voice was laced with amusement, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight back the small, amused smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t get used to it,” you shot back, making your way toward an empty seat. 

Across the table, Spencer Reid had gone very still, his usual rambling tendencies seemingly failing him for once. His gaze flickered over you quickly before he looked away, ears tinged a faint shade of pink. 

Garcia beamed at you, practically bouncing in her seat as she showered you with compliments. “Oh, my God, look at you! I mean, I always knew you were gorgeous, but this? This is next level, honey.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you took the empty seat beside Spencer. 

He wished you hadn’t. 

It was bad enough seeing you walk through that door, looking like something straight out of a dream. But now, you were close—so close that the faint scent of your perfume drifted toward him, wrapping around his senses like a spell.

Not only did you look like an absolute angel, but you smelled incredible too. His brain, usually brimming with facts and statistics, felt utterly useless. 

He had barely managed to keep his jaw from going slack when you first walked in. Breathtaking didn’t even begin to describe you. Now, as you sat beside him, chatting with Garcia, he could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, spreading to his ears. He prayed no one noticed. 

You were still waiting for Rossi and Emily to arrive, which gave you time to talk and settle in. Meanwhile, Spencer remained frozen, struggling to process anything beyond the fact that you were right there, looking like this, smelling like this, existing like this. 

He was just staring. 

His usual encyclopedic mind—capable of recalling thousands of facts in perfect detail—had never felt this empty before. 

Spencer’s brain was so empty, so utterly useless in this moment, that he failed to notice the way Derek was watching him. Normally, Spencer noticed everything—the smallest change in body language, the slightest shift in someone’s tone—but right now? Right now, all he could focus on was you. 

Derek, on the other hand, was very much aware. 

Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, Derek observed the entire scene with growing amusement. He had always known Spencer had it bad for you.

The lingering glances, the way he got just a little more awkward when you were around, the way his usually rapid-fire explanations slowed whenever you asked him a question—yeah, Spencer was a goner. 

But this? This was something else entirely. 

Derek’s grin widened as he watched Spencer sit there, frozen, eyes locked on you like he was seeing a miracle unfold before him. He didn’t even seem to realize he was staring.

Priceless. 

Derek waited, just to see if Spencer would snap out of it on his own. He didn’t. So, with a barely concealed smirk, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “You good, Pretty Boy?” 

Spencer blinked. 

It was as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain. His entire body stiffened, and he finally tore his gaze away from you, only to find Derek smirking at him like a Cheshire cat. 

Spencer cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I knew you had it bad, but this?” He let out a low whistle. “This is next-level, kid.” 

Spencer’s ears burned a deep shade of red. He quickly averted his gaze, desperately hoping you hadn’t overheard any of that. 

Derek laughed loudly, shaking his head again. 

You turned around at the sound of Derek’s laughter, narrowing your eyes playfully. “What are you two talking about?” 

Your gaze flicked between them, curiosity piqued. Derek was grinning, while  Spencer was completely avoiding your eyes. 

His head snapped forward, suddenly very interested in the open case file on the table. His fingers fidgeted with the pages, but you could see the way his ears were burning, the telltale sign that he was flustered. 

Derek, of course, looked far too pleased with himself. 

“Oh, nothing,” Derek drawled, dragging out the words just enough to make it clear he was absolutely up to something. “Just discussing some… observations.” 

You raised an eyebrow, shifting your focus back to Spencer, who still refused to look at you. “Spence?” 

His shoulders tensed at the sound of his nickname, and for a brief second, he looked like he was contemplating whether he could somehow phase through the chair and disappear entirely. When he finally turned toward you, his expression was carefully neutral—too neutral. 

“Yes?” His voice was just a little too high. 

You squinted at him, suspicion creeping in. “Are you okay?” 

Derek chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying every second of this. 

Spencer cleared his throat, straightening up like that would somehow help him regain his composure. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Completely fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” 

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. He was fidgeting, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against the table. His face was still a little flushed. 

Weird. 

“…Okay,” you said slowly, still unconvinced but willing to let it go.

As Derek and Garcia launched into their own conversation, their voices fading into the background, you turned your full attention to Spencer.

“Hey,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Is that a new cardigan?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard—not just by the question, but by the way you scooted closer, closing the already minimal space between you. 

His brain short-circuited. 

Not only had you noticed something as small as a new cardigan—a detail most people wouldn’t give a second thought—but you were also now sitting impossibly close. He could feel the warmth radiating off you, smell that same perfume that had been distracting him all night. 

“Oh—uh, yeah,” he stammered, fingers twitching slightly against the fabric. “I got it last week.” 

You hummed in approval, reaching out to touch the sleeve lightly. “I like it. It suits you.” 

Spencer was practically spinning at this point. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, and he was fairly certain that if he tried to speak again, the words would come out as a complete mess.

All because you had noticed him. Noticed something about him. Complimented him. And were now sitting so close he could barely think straight.  

His crush had most definitely just gotten worse. 

[nilla03]

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝’

𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡： 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠： 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒！ 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒！ 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟！

The space was dim, the scent of ink and antiseptic thick in the air. Framed designs lined the walls, all bold and dark—nothing delicate, nothing soft. It wasn’t a place meant for girls like you, wrapped in pink lace and glossy nails, but here you were.

Connie sat behind the counter, elbow resting on the wood, tattooed fingers dragging idly over his jawline. He looked like he belonged to this place—black button up stretched over his broad chest, silver chain resting against his throat, arms covered in ink that disappeared under the fabric. His buzzed head only made his sharp features stand out more, dark eyes settling on you, unreadable.

You felt your stomach tighten under his gaze.

“Got an appointment?” His voice was deep, slow, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to command attention.

You nodded quickly, shifting on your pink platform sandals as you clutched your purse. “Um… yeah. Spine piece.”

His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t react much. Just stood, moving with a lazy kind of authority that made you feel even smaller. “Back here.”

You followed him past the front area, the air heavier in the back where the walls felt closer, the overhead light casting a soft glow. Your heart pounded when he motioned to the chair.

“Shirt off,” he said, pulling on his gloves. No hesitation, no softness in his voice—just an expectation.

You swallowed, fingers curling around the hem of your lacy top as you pulled it over your head, leaving you in your lacy bra. The cool air hit your bare back, but it wasn’t the temperature that made you shiver—it was him.

He hadn’t touched you yet, but you felt him. His presence was heavy, dark, something you weren’t used to.

Connie grabbed a cold wipe, pressing it against your spine, and you jumped slightly. His hand flattened against your lower back, keeping you still.

“Don’t fidget,” he muttered, his fingers pressing down, firm, possessive. “You’re gonna sit real pretty for me while I work, got it?”

You nodded, your face burning.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitched. His voice had changed—still deep, still slow, but there was something else now. Something knowing.

Then the tattoo machine buzzed to life, and as the needle touched your skin, his free hand stayed on you, fingertips dragging along your side, slow, deliberate.

The needle pressed into your skin, sharp and burning, but it wasn't the pain that had you gripping the chair beneath you-it was him.

Connie worked slowly, methodically, dragging the machine down your spine with precision. His other hand stayed on you, fingers warm against your bare skin, teasing in ways that had nothing to do with the tattoo.

"You're real quiet, princesa," he murmured, his voice smooth, dark. "That hurtin' too much,?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the chair tighter. "N-No... I'm okay."

Connie hummed lowly, the sound vibrating through your chest. His thumb dragged along the dip of your back, pressing slightly into the waistband of your low-rise jeans.

You squeezed your eyes shut, heart pounding. You weren't sure if it was from the sting of the tattoo or the way his presence was swallowing you whole. He was so big, so close, and the way he touched you was slow, almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world to push your limits.

"You look real fuckin' pretty like this," he muttered, his fingers grazing the side of your waist. "Pink little nails, all dressed up nice... sittin' so good for me."

Your breath caught in your throat. The heat in his voice was unmistakable now, dark and heavy, like he was enjoying this— enjoying you.

The tattoo machine stopped for a moment, and you barely had time to register the absence of the needle before his hand flattened against your lower back again, this time rougher. He dragged his thumb up your spine, following the fresh ink, his touch searing into you.

The tattoo machine whined one last time before shutting off, leaving only the sound of your unsteady breathing and the low hum of music playing from a speaker in the corner. Your body felt overheated, every inch of your skin still tingling—from the bite of the needle, from the way Connie had kept his hands on you the entire time, He leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he admired his work, his eyes dragging down your spine like he was still tattooing you.

“Halfway done,” he muttered, pulling off his gloves with a slow snap. His hand, however, didn’t leave you. No, it settled on your lower back, warm and firm, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your jeans.

“You took it real good, muñeca,” he murmured, voice slower now, deeper. His fingers trailed up the fresh ink, tracing the raw skin. “Didn’t whine too much.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the chair. “I-I can handle it.”

That damn smirk curled at his lips again. “That so?” His fingers drifted lower . His touch was lazy, confident, teasing. “You were squirming real cute under me, though.”

Your breath hitched, but you had no response—not when his hand moved higher, dragging over the beauty mark on your lower back.

“You know,” he drawled, pressing his thumb there, circling the spot in slow, deliberate strokes. “I might have to add a little ink here. Mark you up just right.”

Your heart pounded, the heat of his palm branding your skin.

“But,” he continued, finally pulling away, his tone shifting back to something more casual—like he hadn’t just been touching you like that. “We’ll worry about that when you come back.”

It took you a second to find your voice. “W-When?” Connie tilted his head, gaze dark and knowing. “Friday.”

You blinked. “but-“

He cut you off with a lazy smirk. “Ain’t askin’, princesa. You’re coming back Friday.” Your breath caught, the authority in his voice making your skin prickle.

He pushed his chair back, nodding toward the front of the shop. “Go book it with the girl at the desk. And don’t make me call you to remind you, yeah?”

You stood on shaky legs, reaching for your top, your fingers trembling slightly as you pulled it on. You could feel his eyes on you, watching the way you fumbled with the delicate fabric.

As you turned to leave, his voice stopped you in your tracks. “Wear somethin’ easy to take off next time, bonita,” he murmured, voice smooth, dark. “Wouldn’t want you struggling too much for me.“

ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི ◞

𝐶𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖 𝑔𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑙𝑢𝑚𝑝！

[vamph00n]

sunghoon in leather and looking vampy as ever, please give your thoughts, i’m going FERALLLL

⁺‧₊˚†ཐི Sunghoon In Leather ཋྀ† ˚₊‧⁺

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ wc:921

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ tags: suggestive content, nsfw smut tags under the cut.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰➤ note: thank you anon, i would write a whole fic of this if i wasn’t busy/lazy.

mdni 18+

smut: implied, multiple orgasms, blow job, dubcon?

“Wow Sunghoon, you have a lot of clothes.”

Your voice had rung in his ears as you looked through his wardrobe. Yeah, he had a lot of clothes, especially for a guy who defaulted to the same few shirts and pants all the time.

There he sat laid back in his bed, eyeing you as you had gone through his stuff as per usual. He’d never let you know that he was quite particular about how he kept things organized, it was just nice to keep you around. If that meant letting you be nosy, so be it.

Amongst the many button-up dress shirts and slacks, to find something— oh? On the hanger, it draped pretty, a deep black, and shiny. Laces down the middle, and risqué fastens.

“See now— what’s the point of having cool clothes and never wearing them?”

He watched you fling the the garment(s) on his bed. There was an absolute reason why he never wore those. They’re leather.

…

You had pestered Sunghoon greatly, “put them on” you’d coo, “i wanna see.” Climbing atop him on his bed, shoving the set in his face. You really, really wanted to see him in it. He knew he could never say no to you, the sweet friend he barely remembered why you were at his place to begin with. His pretty friend he had some not so innocent thoughts about. His very insistent, very hot, friend. Who never once, threw him a bone, a lick of attention before.

The way your body is so daringly close to his, it’s a wonder you can’t practically feel the tent growing in his pants, he can smell your hair. It makes him fucking hard.

“No—No, i can’t put them on, they… doesn’t fit right.” He winces, as if he’s in pain. The strain agaisnt the fabric of his boxers makes his head reel. Curse his cock for acting up at the mere smell and warmth of you. The act of you giving him that attention he never expected. So foreign.

Plopping back down on his bed, tilting your head at him almost mockingly, a rise in his chest stirs. You click your tongue, looking at the crumpled garments next to him. “You know what I think Hoon?” Fucking hell, he can’t stand when you call him that. Makes his stomach twist, and pale cheeks flush with color. You grin a mischievous smile.

“I think it fits too well.”

It’s crazy, testing, teasing, calculating. It sucks because it’s like a knife to his ego, and he cannot for the life of him utter a single “no” to you, even if it meant saving his life. Well, at the moment his pride.

You wiggle your foot around on his tented pants right on the faint outline between his legs, his body jolts in reaction. Sunghoon had so hoped you didn’t notice it, then again, it was rather hard to hide. Your laugh rings in his ears, sensitive, so damn sensitive. He immediately gets a pillow and covers his bulge almost completely hidden by his baggy pants. “F-fuck you can’t do that!” His weak voice muttered just above a whisper.

“What baby? have something to hide?” You snort between sentences. “Or lack there of?”

He gets up almost immediately, and takes the leather pants and jacket aggressively. He eyes you down scowling, yet you know deep down his little self worth had been deflated. The giddy look on your face when you get your way makes him loath how he wants nothing more than to prove you wrong.

Only to know he’d be buckling at the knees for you any given moment.

…

He watches you swallow dryly, is it hot in here or…? The buttons, the leather, all dark and shiny. Contrasting against his pale skin, it’s a sight paired with his unkempt hair. He looks good, too good. The leather clings to his body, and the jacket is cropped. Shit, his waist is so tiny, that part of you wants to hold it. You want to feel it whilst you taste— the main accessory of the outfit.

A snide look casts on your features, and he stands there awkwardly. Hands covering the scandalous fastens of the pants, failing to hide the thing that lay thick and heavy against his leg. Nearly halfway down his thigh, the composition of the light and shiny material enhances his pulsing need.

“Don’t hide it.”

he had watched you take his jittery hands away from his crotch, your own gripping his thighs and face so close to his dick— he could feel your breath through the rather unbreathable material. Now, hands bruising his waist, and gliding your tongue across the outline of his length suctioned along the expanse of his thigh; he whimpers. Utters out a pretty, and needy sound.

You were never overtly suggestive with him ever. Like at all. Which makes the act of you pushing him onto his bed and virtually ripping his pants off exceptionally hotter.

He’d ask under shaky breaths, “why? Why now?”What made you want to. It almost annoyed you how many times he asked you, even after you so generously sucked his cock dry for the third time. His legs quivering, and your mouth tangy with the aftertaste of all his cum.

Why did you do it?

Seeing him clad in leather was hot, getting him out of it was easy, and getting him off; was hotter.

copyright vamph00n 2024 / like and reblog

[dontbesoweirdkira]

If you don't mind can I request any yandere you want and see reader in a wedding dress they thought reader was planning a marriage turn out she just like the dress

A/N: BAHAHAHAA this is so funny. Yes of course, im *assuming* you are referring to the MK guys? Just send in another request if not😭😭

Characters: MK1 Johnny Cage, MK11 Kung Lao and MK11 Erron Black as a wild card lol.

Warnings: buffoonery and Johnny Carlton 😖

Requests: always open 24/7

Masterlist

Johnny ca(needs to be arrested asap)ge

Oh boy…why did you have to get this man started?? I'm going to assume you just thrifted a pretty white dress, not realizing it was a wedding dress in the impulsivity of the buy.

When you got back home to try it on, it unexpectedly fit like a glove. Accentuating every nice thing about your body. The lace and embroidered rhinestones made everything just 100 times better. A gorgeous glam dress that you’re sure Johnny would love just as much as you do.

Excited, you waited by the front door for his arrival to show off your new purchase.

Immediately he froze at the doorstep, the sight of you in this little git up took him aback.

You stuck a cute pose and did a full body spin to show him every detail, egarly asking him what he thought.

“Ta-Daaaaa! So, what do ya think? I picked it out at the charity shop down the street. I figured it’d be perfect for a special occasion..”

Girl you are so damn foolish😩 that man is going feral now

Johnny had been playing his obsession very cool this entire time. Only maybe slipping up once but now…???

That “special occasion” is obviously the day you’ll become his wife. What day is more special than that?! He’s so happy that you initiated this first. He’s been wanting to make you his forever since he’s met you and obviously you feel the same way too.

See, you’re perfect for each other! He knew you were the one. Only a bit sad he didn’t realize your feelings sooner or else he would’ve taken you to Vegas months ago.

“When I gave you my credit card to get something nice I didn’t expect for you to buy a wedding dress. I’m not complaining tho~ it was only a matter of time until it happened.”

….what?

You had looked back down at your dress and realized that it did look oddly similar to one…but that was just a coincidence.

You explained to him that no, it wasn’t supposed to be a wedding dress. You had picked it up because of the detailing, you figured it’d be perfect for the next red carpet.

Ohhhhh he sees what you’re doing here. You’re playing dumb, this was only a hint that you wanted him to claim you. He’ll promptly propose. It’s the traditional way of doing things. ;)

You reiterated again, more seriously this time that this was only a dress for his red carpet. Honestly more of an impulse buy if anything. You hadn’t realized what the dress actually was. It was far too soon to get married and you wasn’t even certain if Johnny was who you wanted to be with in the long run.

His vision of you walking down the isle in that snatched, sexy little dress was shattered… for a mere moment he became overwhelmed with sadness. Wha— what do you mean that you’re not sure you want to marry him? Who else would you marry in place of him? You’ve been planning to leave him, haven’t you?..

Quickly that sorrow turned to anger and a side of Johnny you’ve never seen came out to bite.

His eyes were narrow and sinister as he peered down at you, over his expensive sunglasses. His voice was low yet venomously brash.

“Sweetheart—“

“You don’t get to play silly little games like this and get my hopes up for nothing. We’re getting married, there’s no other option better than me. And if you think for a second that you’re going to leave me—heh—-I’ll make your life agonizing.”

Oh..

It wasn’t long after, that he held you down and shoved a ring on your finger…ahem romantically proposed and you were eloped with an insane contractual agreement.

Poor thing…use critical judgment next time you’re out shopping.

Kung lao

You were out at the markets getting some groceries and household items. Normally Kung Lao would accompany you, but after much negotiation, he decided to let you go out alone. He was well familiar with the shopkeepers and locals so there wasn’t much to worry about. And he didn’t fear you being hit on there as everyone in the town knew who you belonged to. Any man who was stupid enough to talk to you was a man who was certainly going to die.

Of course like any woman, after your necessities were brought, you decided to do a bit of window shopping of vendors that were in the area.

Nothing new or interesting caught your attention until an older woman pulled you into her store to show you her selection of dresses. They were all so gorgeously designed and hand crafted, they must’ve taken ages to make.

“I have something very special for you. I think this will make that man of yours very pleased.”

After searching through a few boxes, she found the one she was looking for and displayed it for you. The dress was a striking red with gold embellishments and pleats that were colorfully embroidered.

It was so well done that it almost appeared painted on. It’d kill you to have that dress, even trying it on would be a dream in itself. But sadly, you knew that anything at this level had to be exorbitant in price. There’s no way that you could afford, let alone justify paying for it.

Thanking the shop keeper and complimenting the dress, you shook your head and declined. Explaining to her that this purchase would make you struggle for a couple of months.

The old lady wouldn’t take no for an answer and pushed the box towards you.

“My dear, this one was made for you. I must let you have it, don’t worry about payment. Just make sure I get to see you in it.”

Shocked, you asked a couple of times if she was serious and she was very adamant about you taking it home with you. She winked at you and sent you on your way.

Excited, you rushed home and into your room. Entirely running past your boyfriend in the process to hurried try the dress on.

It was exactly your size. It was almost as if if was made exactly to your measurements. You spun around in the mirror a million times so happy to be able to own something so luxurious.

“Y/N? What’s going on in there?? Are you okay? You didn’t even greet me when you came in.”

Opening the bedroom door you surprised him with the dress.

“Can you believe it, Kung Lao? Some lady at the market gifted this to me. She said it was made for me and insisted that I take it home.”

Yeah…ummm

That “random” lady wasn’t so random. He’d been planning this moment for over a year. He took out half of his savings to purchase it and have it custom built for you. All of your favorite colors and style preferences were put into this. He told the lady that whenever she was finished with it, to give it to you the next time that she sees you.

It was a surprise seeing you in the dress though. He knew you’d look beautiful but not this damn good. All of the details brought out the best in yourself. It wasn’t form fitting as it was a traditional xiuhuefu but it still such a perfect fit on you. He was proud that did exceptionally well in designing this for you.

Acting dumb, he asked many questions like who the lady was and was you sure it was truly for free. So manipulative…

“I guess this is a sign of fate…that we are destined to be married soon.”

Ummmm….what?

You laughed and explained how it was just a traditional dress that you plan to wear at a festival or something. What was he talking about marriage? It’s just a pretty dress right??….right?

Girl—-

He explained that no, it was actually a traditional dress only worn by brides. —And that since you was not only “gifted” it, but that it fit you well must mean that you’re ready to be his bride.

“Oh…no…I had no idea, Lao. I just like the dress, I don’t wanna be married to you.”

Let me take a sip of my drink😪

Immediately his face scrunched up in anger and he backed you into the wall.

“You don’t wanna be married to me?! Don’t you know how much money I spent on this dress? Do you know how many hours that poor old lady spent on this, customizing everything for you? I even tried to make the experience receiving the dress special. And you don’t want to marry me?”

He harshly grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer to his

“You don’t get a choice in this, my precious flower. Any other girl would kill to even be noticed by the great Kung Lao..don’t be such a fool and make this difficult.”

Yeah..we’ll at least your wedding was absolutely massive and filled with tons of yummy foods.

Erron Black

(Yes I know Erron’s mom was crappy but for plot purposes please let’s pretend he lovvveeeed her okay.)

Erron had left you back at home while he took care of some business and agreed to let you go through the attic. It was very very old and cluttered and he couldn’t care less about what you did with most of the stuff. He hasn’t seen most of it since he was a much younger fella anyways.

He told you there might be a few old clothes that were his mothers and sisters and you were free to take anything you’d like. You're about their size anyhow and he’d rather them on you than to be rotting in a box any longer.

You made your way through tons of old nicnacks and relics, it took a few hours of searching to find any of his old childhood things since they were in the faaaar back.

Eventually you found a hefty box that read women’s name on it and brought it back downstairs.

Hats, blouses, skirts and accessories were all in there. Not much that you’d wear since they were all a little dated and too mature for you—but there was one thing that caught your eyes. Something wrapped in dainty floral wrapping paper and tied with a pretty bow.

……Erron did give you permission to open whatever you’d like so I’m sure this wouldn’t hurt him.

Upon carefully unwrapping the delicately wrapped piece, the most gorgeous vintage wedding dress was revealed. Yes it was rather dated like most of the clothes with big puffy sleeves and a high neckline for modesty. Kind of gaudy as well but still an eye catching design nonetheless.

You held it up to your body and it looked like it'd be a perfect fit. This isn’t too surprising, but it fit you rather well. You looked straight out of the 19th century but it was cute, you put your hair up really nice and added some of the accessories from the box to complete the look.

You strutted around the house and pretended to be some snobby rich woman on her wedding day.

“Why yes. The orderves were made by Frederic, the renowned chef and the silk table cloths were imported from across the seas….hohoho.”

In the middle of your play time, Erron walked in and saw you in the dress. He paused and observed you up and down. It seemed as though he was a bit upset by the sight of you.

Maybe it was the wrong choice to put on this dress of all things. This was probably the one thing that was unspokenly off limits.

You quickly try to deescalate the situation and explain yourself. That you just thought the dress was pretty and you wanted to fool around in it. That you didn’t think much of it or that he’d be home so soon.

“I’m not mad, y/n. For a second I got a glimpse of my ma again. This dress is perfect on you.”

You twirled around in place and asked him if he truly thought so.

“I’m as honest as I’d ever be right now. What do you say we go down to the chapel right now?”

Thinking he wasn’t being serious, you laughed and began to take the dress off

“You’re not the marrying type, Erron.”

His demeanor turned from a sentimental bliss to a pissed off cowboy in seconds.

What did you mean he’s not the marrying type? He ain’t no saint but he’s been good to you and planned on being so for a long while.

“What did you mean by that, darlin?”

He stared straight and menacingly at you with his drawing hand on his holster. Your next words better be catious.

“N-nothing. Just figured you weren’t into the marriage thing because neither am I. That’s all.”

That’s all? You think you can just wear his deceased mothers wedding gown without any plans of commitment.

He suddenly pulled out his pistol out of his holster causing you to flinch. He didn’t point it at you but he inspected it before putting in a cartridge that was stored on his other hip.

“Dear, I know I ain’t no romantic but if you think for a second I’d let you walk out of this relationship alive…you must be one dumb broad.”

A chilling smile plastered his face as he pointed it towards you

“So what do ya say? You going to come down to the chapel with me or go have tea with the queen in purgatory? …your choice.”

Of course you had to say yes. That proposal was so…romantic? Hey, at least the priest down at the old chapel prayed over your soul and gave you a cross if you so ever shall need it dealing with a devil like him.

[more-sonorous]

what i want to be (javey)

continuation of my transmasc canon era davey oneshot! because he is so near and dear to my heart.

tw/ for a little bit of blood and a lot a bit of davey thinking mean things about himself (and a lot a bit of jack saying nice things in return)

.....

David was not an idiot.

Or at least he tried not to be an idiot, but he found himself failing at doing so more and more as time passed. 

In his defense, it had been a rotten week. Sarah’s October birthday always reminded David of how much his parents favored his siblings over him, to put it bluntly. How could they not? Les and Sarah were golden children. Friendly social butterflies with gorgeous smiles and dimples, each with their own quirks, but nothing truly and debilitatingly strange. Not like David, who was too loud and curious as a child and too quiet and withdrawn as an adolescent, too opinionated, too awkward, with his trouble understanding expressions and tones of voice and his hatred for the skirts and dresses and pretty hairdos his mother always tried on him. Not what his parents expected from their middle child, surely. 

In a little over a month, David would turn eighteen. November. A bleak month already, but even bleaker when his birthday celebrations were compared to Sarah’s. They always had a small little party for all of Sarah’s friends, and Sarah would get a gift especially from Aba because it was no secret that she was the child he favored most. They always ranted about politics together and seemed to understand one another on a higher level-- even though Sarah denied it to David, it was no secret she was her father's child and she loved him deeply for it. Ima always gave her a present as well, usually a specially tailored dress or new blouse and skirt, because Ima loved to sew. For Sarah’s nineteenth birthday last year she’d received a real and true set of petticoats with lace and trimmings, a matter that had her pleasantly thrilled for weeks. 

David, on the other hand, received a combined present from both of his parents on account of money being rather tight around Hanukkah, and David never really liking any of the girlish things they bought him. He didn’t want new skirts or lace cuffs, and his father was awful at buying special little gifts for him. Mayer knew the brooches and political pamphlets and trinkets Sarah would enjoy, but he never seemed to understand David’s taste. It was fine. There was no house party, since David had no close friends to invite to such a thing. He’d always been too strange or odd for the other schoolchildren, and friendless-ness was something he’d learned to live with. Ima would make him rugelach and kiss him on the forehead in the morning, his father would hug him briefly and sincerely, and they’d let him have the day to himself to read or go walking or really do whatever he pleased in the solitude he’d convinced himself to prefer. Though he’d never dare complain, David hated his birthday. 

He hated comparing his birthday to Les and Sarah’s birthdays (Les was absolutely the darling of the family by far– he received the most gifts and celebration but it wasn’t quite fair to compare, since he was so much younger and meant to be spoilt while still a child) because it forced him to acknowledge how lackluster he was in comparison to his siblings.

David still loved them, of course, but birthdays were the reason October put him in a constant state of melancholy. 

The week in general had been horrible, what with Sarah’s birthday celebration and all of her presents and the love Aba showered her in. David’s depressive mood had thrown him out of his careful routine, and he found himself snapping at his family and the newsboys more often, much to his own embarrassment. He was close to breaking and maybe that was the reason why he was such a stupid idiot when he left the house that morning.

David kept meticulous track of his cycles every month. Three days before he was due to start, he always began wearing cotton padding just in case. He’d never encountered any problems and he was typically able to hide his cramping and irritability behind facades of general fatigue and teasing jabs that hit a little bit too hard.

That October morning, however, he made a very idiotic decision. Maybe it was because Sarah was admiring the socialist manifesto their father had bought her with the happiest eyes David had ever seen, or because Les refused to get out of bed and dress himself, but David did not put his cotton padding on. He was due to start in three days, after all, and he didn’t typically start early. They were in a rush. He was agitated and upset and feeling more worthless than usual. So he was an idiot about it.

“David.” Les hissed, tugging on his arm as they walked back towards the lodging house with Jack, arms free of papers and pockets a bit heavier with their daily earnings. He tugged again, stumbling along and whisper-grumbling like he didn’t want Jack to hear. “David.”

“What?” He snapped, coming to a halt and curling his hands into fists. He’d been feeling cruddy all day and Les begging him to buy a candy or stare into a shop window was the last thing he needed. David and Jack had been walking side by side in companionable silence, two of Jack’s fingers caught in the loop of David’s belt. He was very preoccupied with enjoying the way their hips and arms brushed together as they walked, and he did not have the time, energy, or patience to deal with any Leshem Jacobs shenanigans. 

Jack strolled to a halt as well, arms crossed loosely and brow furrowed in confusion. Les’s wide, brown eyes glanced between David and Jack, and he worried his bottom lip anxiously.

“What?” David tried again, through gritted teeth this time. 

His little brother tugged him down by the tie, until he stumbled into a crouch. Les was at the perfect height to cup his hands around his own mouth and lean in to press himself close to David, whispering right up in his ear. David tried to flare his own agitation as he caught his balance, hoping and praying that Les wasn’t about to ask him to play some stupid prank on Jack. 

Les’s voice was hardly even audible, a barely-there whisper that somehow carried notes of anxiety within it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where?” He rolled his eyes and checked his palms for any sort of cut– but Les was very serious as he tugged on David’s pant leg. David raised an eyebrow, getting awfully tired of repeating himself. “Where, Leshem?”

“You know.” His little brother whispered pointedly, dark eyebrows raised and face creased with worry. “Down… um… down there.”

A moment of confusion passed before horror took over completely, spawning a tight sort of panic that made David feel tense from the soles of his feet to his shoulders. He wasn’t due for at least three days but apparently this was happening there and then and oh, God, a subtle glance down proved that Les was right. His gray trousers were darkened just between his legs and somehow he hadn’t noticed– probably too distracted by Jack.

Jack. 

This could not be happening in front of Jack. The panic really began to set in and David thanked God above that he hadn’t tied his bandages too tightly because he could feel his breathing picking up already. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been an idiot and left all of his padding at the apartment, and Jack was right there and he could notice at any minute and then David’s entire life would be over, and he spiraled into a frenzy as he jolted to his feet and grabbed Les tightly by the collar.

“Les and I have to go home now.” He snapped at Jack, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“What?” Jack’s confused expression only got more confused as he stared at the brothers. David knew he and Les’s panicked expressions were almost laughably similar because their faces got red and their eyes got very big, but even Jack didn’t seem to think that this was a laughing matter. “Hey, what in the world is goin’ on? Way to leave a guy out of the loop–”

“Sorry, Jack, have a nice day. I hope the poker tournament at the lodging house goes well! See you tomorrow! 

Determined to flee as quickly as possible, David grabbed Les by the suspenders and steered him forward, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Of course, Jack was a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be, and he jogged right up to Davey’s side. “Davey, what the hell?”

“I forgot we have… um… chores.”

Even Les rolled his eyes at David’s horrible lying abilities as Jack raised both of his perfect eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna try that again?”

“No. I want you to turn around right now and go back to the Lodging House and pretend like this didn’t happen.” He gritted out, eyes plastered directly forward and tone clipped. David’s anxiety was cutting into the typical irritability he felt during this hellish week, when his own body betrayed him and reminded him that he’d never be who he wanted to be. 

“Excuse me?” Jack laughed almost incredulously, mouth dropping open. 

“You’re excused.” David snarled, trying to show Jack that he meant to be taken seriously and praying that his anxiety didn’t come across as obviously as he felt it. His fingers were trembling around his brother and now he could feel the uncomfortable dampness between his legs, ever-present and taunting. "Now go away.

“You ain’t doin’ yourself any fuckin’ favors, Davey, you’re only scarin’ me more–”

He couldn’t stop a noise of frustration from bubbling up. “Jack, when are you ever going to learn how to take a hint? Everything is fine, but we need to go home right now. So leave me alone. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

David took the opportunity to shove Les through a tightly packed group of pedestrians, trying not to cringe at all of the strangers shoving and bumping against him. He felt about an inch or two away from retching all over the sidewalk as he tried to lose Jack in the throng of people, Les taking his hand and wordlessly speeding up their pace. David could scarcely breathe as they rounded the corner, clutching onto his little brother’s hand like a lifeline. This was bad. It was really bad, bordering on horrible, because Jack would be upset with him in the morning. But at least there was one good sign– Jack never chased after anyone except for Katherine. He was too comfortable with himself, too confident to go running after other people. Only her, and he loved her religiously. David felt a sick sort of happiness as he acknowledged the fact that Jack didn’t care for him in any manner other than a fleeting surface level friendship. He cradled that reassurance close to his chest as he and Les shouldered past other pedestrians, weaving through the most complicated path possible. He’d pretty much convinced himself that they were in the clear when a thickly accented voice cut through the space behind them.

“Davey– que carajo, Dave can you just– is that blood? Jesus fuckin’ Christ are you bleeding?” Rough arms grabbed him by the shoulders and David’s heart practically stopped in his chest as he wheeled around to face Jack, who had defied all logic and chased them through the crowds. Panicked honey-brown eyes stared down, down there, and Davey seized up like a stopped clock, no ticking in his brain or chest or heart. He wanted to freeze, melt, die, maybe. “Are you hurt– what happened– hold on a second– you– you– oh.”

Then Jack’s eyes got big and flicked right up to meet David’s. Maybe it was because he’d been feeling lethargic and sick and pained all day, maybe it was his previously sour mood, maybe it was the fact that the understanding dawning on Jack’s face was the most sickening thing David had ever seen– but his bottom lip was already wobbling as he shoved the other boy away. “Just– just don’t.”

If he ever thought he had a chance with Jack, his hopes were crushed and crumbled into nothing now. His eyes were stinging and he could barely breathe as he squeezed Les’s hand tight and turned on his heel, stumbling into a nearby alleyway. Remarkably, Jack was still on his tail and Davey had no idea how to explain this sudden annoying pursuit, other than the fact that Jack wanted to beat the shit out of him and he just couldn’t let that happen in front of Les.

“Davey, Davey would you just slow down for one goddamn second–” 

“Les,” David choked out through tears, “Would you wait by the lamppost for me?”

“But–”

He was already pushing the younger boy towards the aforementioned lamppost, trying his very hardest not to cry. “We'll just be a second.”

Then, steeling himself up for the worst soaking of his life, he marched resolutely into the alleyway and parked himself, standing straight and tall. Then Jack rounded the corner looking incredibly concerned and all of David’s half-assed plans to remain resilient and tough as the person he considered to be his best friend tore him apart all fell to shit. He was crying before he could stop himself.

“P– can you just wait to do this when my little brother isn’t with me? I can’t– I don’t want him to see me losing a fight.” He sobbed, the very idea of Les having to walk him home all battered and bruised by Jack’s hands absolutely tearing him apart. “Please. I w- I won’t ever step foot in the circulation yard again, Jack, I just– I really– I’m begging you not to, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had to watch you h- hit–”

“Watch me– God, Davey, oh my God, you think I want to hurt you?” Jack breathed, a look of unbridled terror taking over his gorgeous face. “Oh, Dave, Davey-mine, God, no. Mierda.”

Within moments, Jack was gathering him up into a tight hug, almost trembling with forced gentleness. David had no earthly clue what was happening, but he tucked his nose into Jack’s shoulder and let tears streak his cheeks as he breathed in the smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. The calloused fingers of one tanned hand threaded through David’s curls. “You just– it’s what anyone would–”

“Let’s shut this shit down right now, ‘cause I would never lay a hand on you. Never. Do you understand me?” He’d never heard Jack’s voice so firm and simultaneously anxious at the same time, and it wrenched a guttural little noise from him. Then Jack’s hands were cupping his cheeks and he stared at those resolute brown eyes, wanting to melt away and hide forever. “Davey. I need ta’ hear you say it. If I had to choose between dyin’ and hurtin’ you then I’m dead, do you get that?”

“But–” His chest shook and he squeezed Jack’s wrists almost desperately. “You know why I’m bleeding, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I gathered that much but I– fuck, I’m just surprised, cariño, not angry. I don’ think I’ve ever been that angry with you. I mean– you know a guy for four months, and this ain’t exactly the shit you expect to find out about him. A’course, that don’t mean it ain’t okay with me, it just… caught me off guard.” Jack dragged one of his rough thumbs over David’s cheekbone and he felt that same sense of ridiculous awe and relief all over again, just like he had in that alleyway with Race back in August. “I ain’t ever gonna lay a finger on you. Understood? David. Come on and tell me you understand, cielito.”

“I understand.” His words warbled with emotion. 

Jack just looked at him like he was seeing right through his eyes and straight into his soul. David wanted to scream. “Good. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.”

David couldn’t handle it. He was just too homosexual. Too goddamn homosexual to stare into Jack’s understanding brown eyes and feel his warm touch, too goddamn homosexual to believe the fact that Jack was standing here accepting him, not wanting to pummel the life out of him but instead aching to comfort him. He pulled himself out of Jack’s grasp and rubbed his hands over his face, tension making his shoulders hurt with rigidity.

Anxious footsteps carefully trailed behind him. “Davey?”

“You’re not… this isn’t how you’re supposed to react.” He whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. “You’re supposed to be angry.”

“Why’s that? Because some stupid rich folk and the stupid rules they created want me to be angry? Bullshit.” Jack reached for him, obviously wanting to touch, and David shrugged him off nearly instantly. He couldn’t take it. 

“Not just that. I’ve been lying to you. And… and the fact that you’re accepting it and not trying to put me in my place is just going to make it worse.” He whispered, hoarse and miserable and past the point of caring about his ruined trousers. “You’re egging it on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jack settled with leaning up against the wall next to David. He was less than an inch away, reclined effortlessly against the bricks with his lovely black hair falling in curtains over his forehead. David could just barely feel his warmth, could sense the tension radiating off of him. “Egging what on?”

“My… my strangeness.” He gestured to himself. The clothes he’d sewn so carefully, his awkward, lanky proportions and the uncomfortable stain that had started this whole mess. His hair, recently cropped again, because he’d never ever be able to live with it long again after the freeing euphoria of having it short. The weirdness. The person that had been lurking under the surface of pressed skirts and waist-length curls of chocolate brown for all his life, scaring everyone away for years. His true self, hesitantly peeking out in bits and pieces, strange and different. “This. Whatever it is. I… I shouldn’t be doing it. I should be going by– you should be calling me–”

He couldn’t even say the name. It felt like poison on his tongue. He hated it. 

“What do you want to be called?” Jack asked delicately, his gaze searing the side of David’s face. “‘Cause I’m calling you that. Not what you think I should be calling you. Or not what your parents think, or society, or whatever. What do you want?”

“David. Davey, Dave, all of the other things you call me.” He buried his face in his hands as memories of Spanish endearments and his favorite, Davey-mine, all echoed in his head. That was what he wanted. 

“Then that’s what I’m calling you. That’s your name. David. Plain and simple.” Jack’s worn-out leather work boot inched slightly to the right, bumping against David’s badly-shined lace up boot. Jack’s laces didn’t match. David’s shoes  were stolen from his parents’ wardrobe, specifically from within a box of his father’s old clothes his parents were keeping for Les. “And you’re a man, if you want to be.”

His eyes stung with tears as he rolled that question around in his head. The ever-present pit in his chest finally seemed to have an explanation, and as he said it aloud for the first time, his heart broke a little bit. Now he understood himself. ”I really want to be." 

Maybe even needed to be, but he didn’t say that piece aloud. He couldn’t imagine going back to his old life. Not when he’d tasted the sweetness of being one of the newsies, unabashedly himself. Locking himself in that cage once more would be an indescribable torture.

“You are a man, Davey. To me and all of the other guys. David Jacobs, smartest guy I know. Prob’ly the best-looking, too.” His voice honeyed with the tease as he bumped their shoulders together, melting David bit by bit with the endless kindness and love he seemed to possess. “I never saw you as anyone else and I never will, neither.” 

A tear or two slipped as he nodded, tilting his head down and to his left to awkwardly press against Jack’s shoulder. Jack pressed an actual kiss to his hair before wrapping him up in a soft, gentle sort of embrace. “Jack. You’re… you’re a really good person.”

His firm chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Nah, this is the bare minimum of what the world owes you, Dave.”

That made him cry, really and truly, and he was just lucky to have Jack rocking him back and forth in a sturdy embrace. David had never felt so loved before. 

They spent a while lingering together, letting David work through all of his conflicting emotions while Jack stood firmly by. Their roles had swapped, usually firm and unwavering David was there for Jack, who had never known stability, to lean on for support. This was a strange departure from their usual dynamic, especially for David and his bone-deep hatred of vulnerability. Honesty reminded him of those childhood evenings when his parents would sit him on the couch and lecture him gently (with undisguised fear and anxiety in their eyes) about how the things he liked weren’t quite acceptable. Honesty reminded him of bad, miserable things. Of feeling like too much within his own skin or too little too. Still, it was more than lovely to have a shoulder to cry on. After a long enough time passed, Les came racing in, brandishing a metal pipe which he seemed intent on bashing Jack’s knees in.

Once he was convinced that no one was going to hurt his brother, Les was subdued and begrudgingly decided to trust Jack again. So they walked Les back to the lodging house and left him in Crutchie’s capable hands. Then, Jack took Davey to Medda’s theatre and he found himself in a washroom, carefully wiping his legs clean. 

It seemed that Jack only got more lovely with every passing day. In that alleyway, David fell hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. How could he not? Jack had found out about his lies and deceit and still cared for him. He was even scrounging about in costume storage looking for a new pair of trousers while David cleaned himself up. He was just wonderful, plain and simply, and that made the fact that David couldn’t have him hurt even more. A little knife, twisting into that hollow beneath his ribcage, teasing that Jack was both accepting and unavailable.

Still, David thought of Katherine. He never stood a chance– not against a woman of her caliber. Rich, intelligent, a perfect flirty spitfire to match Jack step for step. One day Jack was going to marry her and disappear into New York’s upper crust, leaving David stranded as just about everyone tended to do.

He’d gotten used to the loneliness. Didn’t mean he liked it any.

Feeling fully and entirely dejected with his entire lower abdomen twisted into nasty, debilitating cramps, he curled up on the tile floor of the washroom and let the chill sink into his skin. Somehow this had become his life. Vacillating between the happiest he’d ever been and the most miserable. A future of corsets and petticoats and no Jack Kelly was making him sick to his stomach.

What could’ve been an hour or just five minutes later found a gentle knocking on the door. He forced himself onto his feet and peaked just his head out the crack of the door. Jack stood, gorgeous and smiling and holding a folded pair of trousers. He also had one of those sanitary belts the rich girls wore. 

“Miss Medda gave me this thing.” Jack held it up, looking adorably confused. “I, uh, I told her Smalls needed some stuff back at the lodging house, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thanks.” David whispered, unable to muster up much joy with his thoughts spiraling in such a way.

Right before he could close the door, Jack caught it. He looked hesitant, a furrow between his brows. Hesitance was not a look David often saw on the fearless Jack Kelly. “Can I come in? Once you’re dressed? Just wanna… gotta make sure you’re okay.”

He felt himself softening into a puddle of lovesick goop at the sight of Jack’s face, hopeful and sweet and uncharacteristically childlike. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

Once he was sufficiently clean and covered, wearing the sanitary belt beneath his clothes with one of his father’s leather belts holding the too-baggy trousers ‘round his waist, David sunk to the floor once more and dropped his exhausted forehead against his knees. Silence. This was not how he’d expected his day to go. He beckoned Jack in and soon found himself sitting opposite the other boy, fixed with a look of concerned care. Their legs tangled together and Jack wrapped one warm hand around David’s ankle, searching his expression as if looking for something. Maybe finding his words. His hand glided up and down, skin pushing at the dark hairs there.

Eventually Jack settled on something. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “I thought you’d hate me. My family barely tolerates me, as it is… even Sarah doesn’t support this, and I’d been hoping that she’d be my person through it all. She thinks it’s some sort of abandonment, I think. Like I’m trying to be a man to get away from being a woman– like, to get the right to vote or own property or something– but that isn’t it at all. It’s just– people not wanting this version of me is all I’ve ever known. Les is the only one who’s kind about it. Him and Racetrack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he pouted almost comically. “Wh– Racer found out before me?”

“Sure.” David couldn’t help his own teasing smile. “Remember back in August when we nearly got mugged in Brooklyn? We had to run back and I did my bandages too tight.”

“Bandages?”

Jack wasn’t attracted to him in any way whatsoever so David had no problem unbuttoning his own shirt and lifting his undershirt to show Jack the careful wrappings that kept his chest flat. He wanted to laugh at Jack’s awestruck impression, cheeks darkening beneath his tan and eyes wide. He was probably shocked by the idea that David had been selling papers for hours every single day in such restraints. 

“Keeps my chest flat.” David explained simply, smoothing his undershirt back down over his stomach. 

Jack swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“But sometimes I tie them too tight,” He continued, unable to stop blabbering around Jack. It was a bad habit, but Jack made him feel comfortable and listened to, which was a rare occurrence, so David had gotten into the routine of yammering endlessly whenever Jack was willing to listen. “Which is what I did that day. I was panicked and overheated and I just convinced myself I couldn’t breathe, even though I probably could’ve if I was calm. Race was great about it. He’s been great since then, of course. He’s always checking up on me. The other day–”

“I would never hate you.” Jack cut him off very suddenly and very intensely, his hand flexing where it still sat, now cupping the back of David’s calf, beneath his pant leg. “You’re… I dunno how, but you’ve become the person I go to for everything. I can’t lose that. Can’t lose you, I mean, Davey-mine.”

Struck by the sudden sincerity, David felt his chest flutter happily beneath the praise. He felt stupid and stripped of his words. “Oh. I… um… yes, I feel the same way, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, glancing over David’s posture. The way he was holding his cramping lower stomach, tight with pain, was probably obvious. But he didn’t care. Jack had seen enough already. And somehow, with an artist’s observational eye and a lover’s gentle attentiveness, Jack knew just what to do and slid his hand up to Davey’s knee. “What’s gonna make you feel less sick? Water? Smalls likes to bundle up and lay in bed, and I know Kath’s always craving salty food…”

“Honestly, um…” He glanced up at Jack, who was leaning in like he actually cared what David would say. David had already made one idiotic decision, and it had ended surprisingly well. He settled on a second one after careful deliberation, and cleared his throat. “I… can you play with my hair?”

A tiny smile took over Jack’s features. “‘Course I can. C’mere.”

Jack’s hands molded him like some sort of sculpture, guiding him to lay with his head pillowed upon Jack’s lap. David’s insides were screaming giddily as he relished in the coolness of the bathroom tile, Jack’s muscles firm and cotton-covered beneath him. Then those hands weaved their way into his hair and gently scraped against his scalp, and David was weak. Done for. Absolutely head over ass in love. 

It was easy to pretend, laying on that bathroom floor with Jack’s hands in his hair and his brown eyes carefully scanning over David’s face. It was easy to convince himself that maybe Jack loved as deeply as he did. To pretend that this would become a regular occurrence, that this was a lifetime in which he was Jack’s and Jack was his, and they weren’t lying on the water closet floor in a theater, but instead on a couch in an apartment of their own. In that world, David was comfortable and happy and his parents and Sarah loved him for it, and Jack loved him even harder. In that perfect, wonderful world, he got to be with Jack every morning. He had devotion and love and loneliness was a distant, unrecognizable beast.

This, though? It was halfway there. David was sure it was as close to heaven as he’d get in his lifetime, and he savored every second.

[solarisstyles]

LACED UP

Pairing: Harry Styles x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1k+ Warnings: fluff, cross dressing, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it!), 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: You're surprised to find Harry wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen him wear. A/N: spicy!

*please like and reblog to help your local fic writers*

Harry Edward Styles. How does one begin to describe him? He lived his life out of the box, never settling on a label for anything. He was a free spirit who will give anything a fair go. This was one of the big things that attracted you to him. When you started dating and getting intimate with each other, you learned a whole new level of Harry you never expected. He was a switch so it was always a nice surprise if you’ll get the submissive side, or his dominant side.

After dating for so long, you figured there was no way he could surprise you anymore in the bedroom. Pushing open your bedroom door, you were met with a sight that took your breath away. 

Harry stood in front of the full length mirror admiring himself, and while that wasn’t out of the ordinary to see, it’s what he was wearing. 

“Harry, what are you doing babe?” you softly spoke once you found your voice. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes met yours through the mirror, wide and scared looking. “Um, I, uh…” he stuttered, frozen in place. 

Your eyes scanned his body, admiring the beige colored women’s lingerie he was wearing. You could tell he had on a full set, the sheer cover up barely leaving little to the imagination. The lace thong and lace bra he wore beneath it was barely visible. As your eyes found his own again, you smiled. Blushing from his face down to his chest, he held your stare. “Turn around for me baby. Let me see you.” you instructed, doing a little circular motion with your pointer finger. 

Slowly, he turned to face you, looking down at the rug he stood on, shifting on his feet nervously. He was beautiful. The color of the set was just a few shades darker than his skin tone so it complimented him perfectly. The fabric was so snug and hugged every curve like he had it custom made for his body. 

Slowly approaching him, you tilted his chin so he was looking at you again, his face still cherry red and eyes full of fear. “What’s got you so nervous baby?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion. 

“This…this isn’t too much?” he asked, voice shaky. 

Softly caressing his cheek, he leaned into your touch, finding comfort in it. “Absolutely not. You look so pretty.” you praised, your hand then slowly glided down his neck, teasingly gliding your finger back and forth beneath the straps of his bra. 

“You think I look pretty?” his wide doe eyes looked up at you hopefully, goosebumps rising on his skin from your gentle touches. He looked so fragile, like if you were too rough with him right now he’d shatter into hundreds of pieces on the bedroom floor. This was a new level of vulnerability for him, and it was your turn to be the comforter. 

“I think you look beautiful, devine, breathtaking. How come you’ve never worn this for me?” biting your lip, you looked him over once more, wanting to etch this scene into your mind forever. 

“I just got it probably about a week ago. I’ve always wanted to try it but never got the nerve till recently.” he explained, a small smile now spreading along his lips. “I felt so pretty when I first tried it on,” he confessed, “I was just worried you wouldn’t be into it.” your eyes snapped up to his own. It was understandable why he would be fearful. He’s never been with a partner who was open to trying new things in the bedroom. 

“Oh, I’m into it. If I had a dick right now, it would be hard.” Your joke made him laugh, visibly causing his body to relax some. “Is this how it feels when you see me in lingerie?” you dared to ask, still trying to calm your rapid heart beat. 

“Like you’ve got the breath knocked from your lungs?” Harry asked, thinking back to the first time he saw you in red lace, laid out for him on the bed. 

“Exactly.” you confirmed, moving to stand behind him, gliding your finger tips over his chest as you went. Kissing the warm skin on his shoulder, your kisses trailed over to his neck, softly licking and sucking on his skin. 

Softly breathing out a deep breath he’d been holding, he whimpered quietly, leaning back into you. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me Harry?” you whispered in his ear, your hands softly rubbing his sides. 

“Yes ma’am.” he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut. 

Your lips resumed their work, marking up one side of his neck then moving to the other side. Your hands gained a mind of their own, feeling up and down his body. The embroidered pattern on the slip cover he wore felt so good beneath your fingertips. The fabric itself had a soft and delicate feeling. This wasn’t a cheap set and was obviously well made. Harry wanted the best if he was really going to try this out, and this was the best possible outcome he could get from doing it. 

Moving upward from his waist, your hands found their way to his pecs, squeezing and groping him through the bra like he would your own tits. He couldn’t help but giggle, which made you smile against his neck, “Nice tits.” you playfully said, pinching his nipples. 

“Shit, babe.” he gasped, his hands covering your own, but not stopping them. 

You giggled then, placing a final kiss on his neck “Get on the bed, I want to make you feel good.” 

He gave you a quick nod, making quick work to get on the bed for you. Pushing the shopping bag and boxes off the bed that once held the garments he was wearing, you placed yourself in front of him, knees touching as you both knelt. “How are you feeling?” you asked him, wanting to make sure he was comfortable with how this was playing out. 

“Good, really good.” he assured, smiling softly at you. 

“Good, lay back on the pillows and get comfortable.” stripping yourself of your own clothes as you instructed him. 

Sitting there in your bra and panties, your eyes wandered over the expanse of Harry’s body that was laid out before you. “You look so damn good.”, slowly crawling up his body, seeking out his lips against your own. 

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your ass, squeezing and rubbing at your soft flesh, causing you to whimper a soft moan against his mouth. Reaching back, you grasped his wrists, pulling his hands away from you and pinning them above his head, “Keep them there.” 

He nodded wordlessly, his eyes following your hands, watching them and feeling them caress his warm skin. 

“You look so pretty in this. Shame I have to take it off of you.” pouting your lip out, drawing shapes around on his belly with your finger tips. 

“I’ll wear it again for you if you want.” he offered, soaking up all the loving attention you were pouring out to him. 

“I’ll buy you whatever little piece you want if it means you’ll wear it for me.” you smiled down at him. 

“Promise?” he asked hopefully. 

“Promise baby.” you assured, leaning down to his chest, trailing soft kisses down to his belly, then down to his crotch. Looking up at him through your lashes, you slowly pushed the slip up to his hips, finally getting to feast your eyes upon the beautiful thong he wore. His cock that was only half hard, was strained against the fabric, the tip of his cock peeking out by his thigh where he’d tucked himself. 

“So pretty.” you whispered, kissing along where his cock was bulging. 

His cock twitched beneath the soft fabric, making you smile up at him. He swallowed roughly, his adams apple bobbing in his throat as he watched you intently. Keeping your eyes locked with his own, you dragged your tongue along the sheer fabric covering his hardened cock, flicking your tongue along the tip of his cock teasingly. 

“Babe.” he whined, grasping at the pillows he laid on. 

“Hm?” you hummed, playing innocent. 

“Want your mouth.” he panted, wiggling his hips slightly under you impatiently, “Please.” he begged. 

“Only because you’ve got such good manners baby girl.” you winked, sitting up, you grabbed the waistband of the thong, pulling it off him with a little help from him lifting his hips and maneuvering his legs. Tossing the fabric off the bed, you resumed your teasing kisses and licks along each of his thighs, working your way up to his now fully hardened cock. Gliding your tongue along his shaft, you grasped him firmly at the base, slowly taking him into your mouth. You both moaned in unison, your own moan sending glorious vibrations down his cock, his moan sending a rush of arousal to your own aching core. 

Driving Harry crazy with your mouth was one of your favorite things to do, he was so easily riled up by you sucking him. His head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, fighting to not reach his peak so quickly. It was hard to not be so close though from all the foreplay and not to mention how hot you looked sucking his cock. 

You could see his stomach tensing and relaxing, his cock twitching against your tongue. Your hand stroking what of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth, pulling off of him, droll stringing from his cock to your swollen lips you asked, “Where do you want to cum baby.” 

“You, inside you baby please.” he begged, whimpering desperately for you to not stop. 

Placing a soft kiss to his hip, you sat up to remove your bra and panties, straddling his hips and positioning yourself above his cock. He watched with bated breath as you positioned him at your entrance, slowly lowering yourself onto him with ease from how aroused you are. Settling your hips against his own, his cock fully inside of you, you looked up at him, finding his line of sight focused on where you two were now connected as one. 

Raising your hips you clenched around him, causing him to groan, “Don’t tease me baby.” he rasped, voice strained and an octave deeper than normal. 

Smirking at him, you dropped your hips back down, sitting him deep inside you once more. Grinding your hips around him, causing you to moan at the delicious feeling. The tip of his cock rubbing against your g-spot is enough to stir you crazy. 

“Oh, God.” you gasped out, rocking your hips at a steady pace, eventually working yourself into a bouncing motion, his hips meeting yours half way, fucking up into you. 

“Just like that baby. Don’t stop.” he grunted, still grasping the pillows for dear life. 

“Touch me Harry, please touch me.” you cried out, desperate for physical contact from him. 

His hands have never moved so quickly, grasping your hips and holding them steady as he quickly thrusted up into you. 

A scream of pleasure slurred with his name tumbled from your lips, drunk off his cock pounding you. Laying your body against his own, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. Bending his knees and planting his feet into the mattress he used it as leverage to continue his quick pace, “I’m so close.” he warned, turning his face to your own, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. 

You were close to, dangerously so, your pussy throbbed around him, clenching and unclenching his cock. Reaching down between your bodies, Harry’s fingers began to rub your clit, making you moan into his mouth. “Cum for me baby.” he rasped against your lips. 

“Mmm, fuck!” you moaned, your climax finally bubbling over, coating his cock in your sweet release. The lewd wet sounds of his cock fucking your wet cunt, mixed with your moans was the final push he needed to reach his own orgasm. Thrusting deep inside you, holding himself there while he came, your walls fluttered around his cock, milking every drop of cum from him that he had. 

Slowly coming down from his high, his legs fell back against the bed, you both were breathing roughly to catch the breath that was lost between you both. 

Pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, you rolled off of him and laid down next to him. “Never stop surprising me.” you said as you looked at the ceiling. Cracking a tired smile and a soft laugh, he nodded, “Deal.”

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Unspoken Attraction CL16

New chapter guys !

Reply to this to be added to the taglist :)

Chapter 4: Shattered Expectations 

The F1 gala was in full swing, the grand ballroom filled with the glittering elite of motorsport. Guests moved through the room in their finest attire, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting a golden hue over the crowd. Laughter and conversation mingled with the faint strains of classical music, creating an atmosphere of celebration. 

Y/N stepped into the room, her red dress catching the light as she walked. She felt nervous but determined. Her heart raced with anticipation—not for the gala itself, but for the possibility of seeing Charles again. Over the past few days, thoughts of him had occupied her every moment. His teasing smile, the way he made her laugh, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her—it all lingered in her mind. 

Her brother Pierre had introduced her to this world, but tonight wasn’t about being his little sister. Tonight, she wanted to show Charles who she really was. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted him. Charles was across the room, leaning casually against the bar, his tuxedo perfectly tailored, his dark hair styled just right. He looked confident, effortlessly handsome, and entirely at ease. Taking a steadying breath, she made her way over, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. 

“Charles,” she greeted, her voice warm and cheerful. 

He turned at the sound of her voice, his green eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before his expression became unreadable. “Y/N,” he said simply, his tone neutral. 

She smiled, undeterred. “You clean up well,” she said lightly, gesturing to his tuxedo. “Not that the racing suit doesn’t have its charm, but this is a nice change.” 

“Thanks,” he replied curtly, his eyes briefly flicking over her before he looked away. 

She felt a pang of disappointment but pressed on. “I don’t know many people here,” she said, her voice softening. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” Charles said, his tone distant. 

Y/N tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly. “Well, I was hoping you might keep me company,” she said, her voice tinged with playful intent. “You seemed pretty good at that last time.” 

“I’ve got a lot of people to talk to tonight,” he said flatly. “Maybe later.” 

The words stung, but she forced herself to laugh lightly. “Of course,” she said. “You’re a busy man.” 

Over the next hour, Y/N tried again and again to engage him, each attempt met with the same coldness. She approached him while he was looking at the ballroom's centerpiece—a grand ice sculpture in the shape of an F1 car. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” she said, trying to strike up a conversation. 

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone indifferent. 

“You know,” she said, leaning closer, “I’ve heard Ferrari does everything with style, but I didn’t expect ice sculptures at parties. Is this normal, or are they just trying to impress everyone tonight?” 

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I wouldn’t know.” 

She faltered, the playful banter she’d hoped for nowhere to be found. “You’re really not making this easy, are you?” she said, her voice light but edged with nervousness. 

“I didn’t realize I had to,” he replied, his tone devoid of humor. 

Still, she refused to give up. She found him again, this time alone near the bar. She placed a hand lightly on the counter beside him, her red dress shimmering under the lights. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said softly, a teasing smile on her lips. 

Charles didn’t even look at her. “I’ve been busy,” he said shortly. 

“Too busy for an old friend?” she asked, her tone laced with humor, though her chest tightened at his dismissal. 

He sighed, finally meeting her gaze. “Y/N, this isn’t the time.” 

Her heart sank, but she forced a smile. “Right. I’ll let you get back to it, then.” 

She walked away, her confidence shaken. She had hoped for warmth, for connection, but all she’d found was cold indifference. 

Later in the evening, Y/N’s world came crashing down. She spotted Charles surrounded by a group of women, his smile easy and his charm effortless. They laughed at his jokes, their hands brushing his arm, their gazes lingering. He looked relaxed, animated, and completely different from the man who had been so distant with her all night. 

Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she approached. “Charles,” she said, her voice sharper than before. 

He turned to her, his smile fading. “Y/N,” he said coolly. “What is it?” 

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Why are you being like this? We had something, didn’t we? Back in the paddock…” 

Charles’s expression hardened, and he set his drink down with a deliberate motion. “You’re imagining things, Y/N,” he said, his voice cold. “Whatever you thought happened, it didn’t. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but you need to let this go.” 

Her breath caught, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “So it was all in my head,” she said softly. “I thought you cared.” 

“You’re reading too much into this,” he said, his tone final. “It was nothing.” 

She stared at him, her heart shattering. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she left the ballroom. 

Charles’s Perspective 

Charles watched her go, his chest tightening with every step she took. The pain in her eyes was seared into his memory, and he hated himself for putting it there. 

From the moment he’d seen her in that stunning red dress, he’d been fighting to keep his emotions in check. She was breathtaking, her presence lighting up the room in a way that made it impossible to look away. But Pierre’s warning had been clear, and he couldn’t risk crossing that line. 

“She’s off-limits, Charles.” 

Every interaction with her tonight had been a test of his resolve. Her smile, her warmth, the way she leaned closer and spoke softly—each moment made it harder to keep his distance. But he had to. For Pierre. For her. For himself. 

Pushing her away was the only way to protect her, even if it meant breaking both their hearts. But as he stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made the biggest mistake of his life. 

[heartilywrites]

Lolita anon here !!

yes that is the style I was talking about !!!

،، 𝓟retty dresses ; A. Sato

content warning: asami x fem!reader ; reader uses lolita style dresses ; fluff ; headcanons ; no use of y/n ; established relationship ;

wc: 0.6k

a/n: this one is a bit shorter since they're only hcs, i hope i met your expectations!!! i even fell in love with some of the dresses while looking for reference, they're so cute

“ Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset.

♡ ; In your relationship, it was Asami who set eyes first your way.

♡ ; One day, she was walking around the city looking for something to eat before returning to her company and continue her work when your silhouette got her eyes.

♡ ; You had on one of the prettiest outfits she had ever seen; a puffy blue skirt at the length of your ankle and a creamy colored blouse with long sleeves, lace and blue fabric at the wrist area. Over your head you had a cute straw hat.

♡ ; She did, in fact, stared for way too long because she saw you pay your food and leave acting like you didn't noticed her. That was the day Asami started to believe in love at frist sight.

♡ ; It wasn't that hard for you to fall for her either, she would've compliment every single outfit you dressed with, making you blush and the action would get prominent when she gave you a spin with her own hand so she could appreciate how the skirt flow better.

♡ ; Sato was amazed with every new outfit she saw on you, you had a big variety of dresses so you almost didn't repeat outfit on the same week.

♡ ; Her favorite one had a black skirt to your knees length and a dark red blouse, the skirt made the illusion as if it was a jumper since it had suspenders attached to it.

♡ ; She says it combines with her own clothes, that would make you blush.

♡ ; There was a clear difference in everyday clothes between Asami and you since she almost everyday used her company's uniform.

♡ ; But when there was an important event or a gala, she would match your elegance with her own dresses, making you both look like a couple out of fairytales.

♡ ; She was so sure that if it wasn’t because she needed to be in comfortable clothes to work on her inventions she would be dressed up every single day to make everyone jealous about your relationship.

♡ ; She would pressume you with everyone.

♡ ;‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You see the girl with the pretty dress? That's my girlfriend.” she says pointing at you and then back at her with such pride.

♡ ; Asami wasn't a possessive person, but when she catches someone looking your way and read in their face how they want to make a move on you she would walk to you and make you spin over your feet before hugging your waist with one hand and leaving a sweet kiss on your lips. If you had a hat that day, her free hand would go up to hold it and make sure it stood in place.

♡ ; She would one hundred percent go with you to shopping more dresses if you wanted.

♡ ; Sato sits outside the dressing room waiting for you to show the dresses, she always says they all look good on you and how you should take all of them home.

♡ ; If there was a dress you couldn’t afford by yourself and you showed how much you liked it she would buy it for you when she goes back to the store alone and leave it in a big box on the bed after she leaves for work in the morning. Sometimes she'd leave a note telling you to wear it that day so you two could go for lunch together.

♡ ; She definitely has a picture of the two of you dressed up at a gala in her desk, the best picture ever taken, in her own words.

♡ ; On your anniversary you would've buy her a set very much in her style, but with a touch of yours: a long and a bit puffy red wine skirt, a white blouse with long sleeves and a shawl with her and your initials in each end.

♡ ; She was shocked at the set at first, but was quick to hug you and thank you for her new outfit.

♡ ; Asami would've put it on after giving you her gift and dragged you to a photo salon.

♡ ; She had a new favorite photo for her desk.

[hell-drabbles]

Mammon 2

Summary: The amount of meat on Mammon’s thighs had you curious. Mammon is just happy–and a little frustrated–at your attention on them.

(Mammon has some meaty thighs huh?)

“Huh,” you shrugged your shoulders to ease the oncoming soreness in them, “you don’t have stretch marks.”

Your fingers poked and prodded the place where his thighs curve into his hips. His robe was fully open, undone by Mammon himself in rather enthusiastic anticipation, but his upper body wasn’t really of interest to you right now. It’s his legs that grabbed your attention.

Mammon’s a pretty big man in both stature and sheer presence. Around him, you’ve seen demons either look him square in the eye or have their heads tilted down so low you think they can’t even see his toes. Either way, rarely is attention drawn to anything below his crotch. It can’t be helped, the flare of his chest, especially when compared to his thin waist, compels the eye to look at it.

“Do you want me to have them?” Mammon breathed out, tapping his knees against the sides of your neck for your attention, “You sound disappointed.”

“No, it’s not quite disappointment,” there was plenty of fat over his muscles, so you couldn’t help but give his inner thigh a light pinch. Mammon twitched and opened his legs wider. No underwear. Huh. “It’s just a little weird to me. Something I need to adjust to. I looked at all kinds of bodies just to see the little details in them for my books, so it’s weird to me to see someone of your size not have stretch marks on the soft parts.”

None on the stomach, none under his arms, or his back or neck. Not even on his inner thighs. Weird. Well, he is a devil but you’re pretty sure that even devils are subject to the side effects of puberty.

“So is it too weird for you to continue?” Mammon shrugged off the rest of his robe before sitting up, “I can fix that up real quick, if you want.”

“Get back on your back,” your tone went from simple musing to a solid command.

Mammon smiled with a shiver and rested his form on the poor creaking bed. He kept his mouth shut, not attempting to goad you as he knew he didn’t need to. Really, you appreciate his patience and ease.

Then, you remembered the things you bought the other day.

“Hold on a moment,” you pushed Mammon’s legs away and speed walked to your closet. You dug into a plastic bag and pulled out a simple pair of black thigh high socks with the most delicate white lace you have ever seen. “Look what I got you. I saw these in your size and I had to get them.”

“So, I am on your mind as much as you are in mine,” the way he crossed his arms under his head kind of irritated you. There he goes with his ego. He’s wanting a change in pace. He’s probably growing impatient then.

This quickly though? Ah, well, your fingers have been skimming over the dip where his thighs meet his ass.

“Isn’t it only natural to want to dress up my belongings?” You settled between his legs once more and started pulling the socks on him. “Can’t very well neglect you.”

Mammon didn’t resist. He even helped pull them up higher until they squished quite nicely against him. Honestly, you didn’t know if they would fit him or not. You half expected them to rip somewhere on the way up, but no. They’re holding up very well. The fabric gets more and more transparent as the sheer mass of his thighs spreads them thin. The lace pinches the flesh in such a way that it seems as though he’s overflowing from them.

You couldn’t help but touch where the socks end and where his thighs start. It’s a very interesting curve.

“Yup, this looks nice,” you nodded, entirely ignoring his shivering waist and jutting hips.

You gave a good smack to the side of his ass and watched as he nearly ripped the pillow under his head. A broken moan escaped his throat.

“Caught you off guard, huh?” You laughed.

Cute. Oh so cute. You’re going to drag this out for as long as possible. That is your right as his owner.

[fang-and-feather]

CONGRATULATIONS FOR THE 100 FOLLOWERS! 🥳🎂🎉

For the celebration:

Arthur/reader/Isaac triad + handcuffs :3

Thank you, sweetie! 🥰❣️

This was even more fun than I expected and went on places I wasn't expecting either

Words: 3637

Summary: You should have known Arthur's surprise from the morning wasn't his only one. Neither was dinner. But this... was a little past your expectations. The trust and vulnerability of such an offering... But Isaac's reaction was the biggest surprise, and the promise of a night to remember

Tags: NSFW, Light Bondage, Very Light Dom/sub Play, Dom! Isaac/sub! Arthur, Use of Toys (besides the handcuffs), Teasing and Edging, Cockwarming, Double Penetration, Fluffy Ending, Modern Setting

Request from my 100 Followers Celebration. Prompts for it were from @anyfandomfluffbingo

I actually decided to pair this with my previous fic (post both together), because I think they make for a nice set.

Previous Fic / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Even when you thought Arthur’s gift from earlier wasn’t his only surprise, this wasn’t what you expected him to have in mind.

But it made for such an erotic sight, to find him handcuffed to the bed like this, even when he was still dressed, that your surprise and confusion were quickly brushed away.

“Looks as good as you expected, luv?”

Arthur smiled seductively at you and you returned the smile. You would be somewhat nice to him because it was your anniversary, but he would still lose that smugness pretty soon. Especially after Isaac arrived.

He was still putting himself in your hands, after all.

“Well, I can’t see much with these clothes on the way.”

“Oh, I thought you would like to unwrap your present yourself.”

“Fair. I thought of offering you the same, but looks like you already have your hands full tonight.” you shrugged off your summer dress, revealing the lingerie you had bought, especially to surprise your boys tonight. Well, mostly Arthur.

A deep blue, mostly see-through negligee, adorned with black lace, and a pair of matching panties that were not transparent.

The sound that escaped Arthur sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

“I will have to wait for Isaac, then.” You added, slowly stepping closer to the bed, watching the way his eyes accompanied your movements. You grinned and Arthur pouted.

“Are you that intent on torturing me, luv? You know, I can barely resist how sexy you are when you’re not trying to seduce me.”

“Just seeing how committed you are to the game you started.” You crawled on top of him. Arthur gulped. “You admit defeat already?”

“You know I never do.” His smile turned confident again. “But don’t you think we should consult Newt before making this a game? Where is he, anyway?”

“He got a call. He’ll be here soon. And if you’re worried about this being too much for him… you remember why we bought these, don’t you?” You asked, tugging at the chain of the handcuffs.

Isaac had been oddly curious about the use of some toys during your last shopping spree, so you didn’t waste the opportunity. He rarely expressed any interest in anything without you proposing it first. Even if this turned out to be something you wouldn’t try again, it would be a good experience to all of you.

And speaking of Isaac…

“It was from work. There was a problem, so I get the day off tomorrow too. Maybe we…”

You turned to loot at the door as best as you could, watching as he stopped as soon as he noticed the position you were in. Embarrassment and desire clear on his face, battling for his focus.

“What do I do with you?” Isaac groaned and closed his eyes, his face burning red. “I turn around for a minute and you—”

“I was just waiting for you to unwrap our present. Will you help me or do you want to watch?”

Isaac sighed, but he stepped closer, eyes still closed and face still red.

“Is it too much, Isaac?” Arthur asked with a little of concern.

But that was because he had even less of a view of Isaac than you did, because to you, it looked like desire was winning and Isaac was actually trying to keep himself from pouncing on you.

The image that thought brought was quite tempting, although it would completely change your plans.

“You always are.” Isaac muttered, starting to unbutton his shirt as he approached you. “But I… It’s not your fault. I just don’t know how to deal with these new feelings sometimes.”

“If you want to change to something more comfortable, just say the word. But by the look of things, I would say that’s not what you want.” Arthur grinned.

“No. Only you two could ever make me feel such things, and I don’t hate it. Although…” Isaac leaned towards Arthur. “Why, even in this position, do you have to try to tease me?”

Before Arthur could answer, Isaac kissed him.

“You’re lucky it is our anniversary, because I don’t think Isaac would let this opportunity pass otherwise.” You chuckled, watching your boyfriends make out.

You shifted your body a little, the scene only making the ache within you stronger. Arthur moaned as your movements ended up brushing against him, and Isaac finally pulled away.

“It is our anniversary indeed. And Arthur said it wasn’t fair for us to be the only ones pampering him. I guess it is his turn to entertain us, don’t you think, darling?” Isaac kissed you this time, not giving you the opportunity to reply, either.

It almost didn’t sound or look like the Isaac you knew, both his words and the lustful glance he shot Arthur. It was so rare that you would wake this side of him, even between the three of you. Completely taken by lust that he lost most of his reservations.

Maybe he was more like that when he and Arthur were alone. You could imagine Arthur’s teasing getting to him like that without you to mediate or just catch their attention.

“I guess that’s what he had in mind when he started this.” You winked at Arthur as Isaac walked out of your view. “Wasn’t it, love?” you traced a path down his throat lightly with a nail, stopping at the first button of his shirt and toying with it.

“You know I belong to you. But I think I will need a drink for that.”

Isaac climbed behind you on the bed and nudged you a little forward. You shifted your position, and he kissed your back, humming in approval.

You turned to Arthur, hands returning to his shirt as you slowly finally opened a button.

“I would love to comply, but I think we should wait for Isaac to be ready.”

Isaac kissed your back, probably a sign he approved. You felt him unbuckling Arthur’s pants.

“I could always bite him too, just to...”

This time, you didn’t know what Isaac did, but Arthur’s words turned into a deep moan rather quickly. You chuckled.

“What Is the fun in rushing it? Why don’t I bite you instead for now?”

You bent forward and did just that, biting his neck just hard enough to leave a mark, then soothing the spot with your tongue. Arthur moaned and the handcuff’s chain rattled as he instinctively tried to reach out for you.

“You look so hot like this.” You whispered in his ear. “So helpless… Completely in our hands…”

“I… I always am…”

Behind you, Isaac groaned, and the sound was followed by a louder moan from Arthur.

“What is this?” Isaac asked, sounding more surprised than confused.

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but what came out was an even louder moan and you felt him buck.

You could imagine what Isaac had found as he removed Arthur’s clothes. A butt plug Arthur had bought once, and at least between the two of you, it was usually his sign you could do anything you wanted to him.

Probably because that usually included you pegging him, but even when it didn��t, he would just keep wearing it.

“Do you want me to fill you up that much?” Isaac continued. Arthur gasped and moaned. “Or should she do it?”

You moaned too, grinding against Arthur. The way Isaac’s voice got when he got that much into the game. Low and sweet. So seductive.

“Or maybe I have different plans.”

But you were feeling a little lost between their exchange. What was the best way you could regain a little control?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the low cracking of the bed, as Isaac climbed off and you watched him go straight to the drawer you kept your “toy box”.

You moved to your previous position, lightly grinding against Arthur’s hardened cock, before resuming your work on his shirt, with a certain urgency this time.

You gently grazed your nails over his chest, earning a short gasp, then circled a nipple and his breath hitched.

“That sensitive already?” You ground your hips against his again. “I didn’t even start.”

You gave him a soft bite just below his collarbones, then again a little lower, leaving a trail of marks on your way to reach a nipple. You dragged your tongue over the tip, making him shudder, then gently dragged your teeth over it, feeling it harden as you did.

“You could try this,” Isaac offered you a small bottle. He had brought the whole box over and set it beside the bed.

“Good idea.” You smiled and knelt up, accepting what you realized to be a cooling gel.

“You really want to watch me squirm, don’t you?” If Arthur wanted it to sound like he was complaining, then it was failing.

“If I wanted to, I would turn this on maximum speed and leave you locked here.” Isaac replied, flushing to the tip of his ears, probably embarrassed at the image that thought must have brought up, as he showed Arthur what he had picked from the box.

“What about that talk about filling me up yourself?”

“If you’re still up for another round after we’re done, I might.” Isaac walked out of your view again.

“Buying this was your suggestion. Do you still want to try it?”

He basically told you there was no need to ask when he put himself in such a position, but you still liked to make sure. And to hear him admit it.

“Ready to try whatever you want, dear.”

Sometimes you wondered what it would take for him to regret these words, but you knew he only said that because he knew you wouldn’t even try.

“I will keep that in mind.”

You applied a little of the gel on the nipple you hadn’t touched yet, watching the way Arthur squirmed. You bent down and blew over it, making his back arch.

Then Isaac had him moaning and his hips bucking, almost throwing you off, so you readjusted your body over his, leaning your weight on one arm and pinching his nipple with your free hand, then pulling and lightly twisting it, making his back arch again.

You went back to rubbing, as you drew the other nipple in your mouth, sucking it.

But Arthur’s moans were cut by a groan that sounded quite dissatisfied, followed by a shift in the bed and soon you were being distracted from your assault by Isaac’s hands moving to your hips, making you moan this time.

“You chose this one for Arthur, didn’t you?” He asked, caressing your sides over the negligee.

“Jealous?” You asked playfully. “Don’t worry. I have something special in mind for our anniversary, too.”

“No-Not that I don’t like it!” Isaac added hurriedly, hands sliding down. “Just…” You knew it was a little more daring than he usually liked. “May I?” He asked, tracing the waistband of your underwear with light touches that made you shiver and squirm.

“As you wish.” You leaned your body weight on both arms and rested your forehead against Arthur’s chest, so you could move your legs to a position that allowed him to remove the piece of clothing.

And Isaac lingered, his hands sliding slowly and sensually over your skin, lips that trailed butterfly kisses after them. It was your turn to sigh and moan, and you couldn’t even get a little friction to calm your aching core.

Then, his hands guided you back to a kneeling position, caressing your hips over your negligee. One of them slid up and brushed your hair aside, then he kissed the back of your neck.

“I will come back for you in a moment, darling.”

“Can’t decide which one of us you want first, Newt?” Arthur teased. “Or is the problem how you want it?”

“I…”

Isaac didn’t finish or move for a moment. You could imagine him blushing even harder than before, and the way he probably was frowning as he mulled over his unspoken dilemma.

“If you want something, you know you can always ask.” Arthur told him.

“Don’t be ashamed of wanting to experiment. We won’t judge you, even if it’s something we’re not okay with.”

Isaac didn’t respond, but he moved. A bottle was unscrewed, and you felt his hands occasionally brushing you, accompanied by new, sweet moans from Arthur.

You joined him, reaching for the bottle you had set aside and resuming your work on his nipples.

“You are being so loud today.” Isaac told him.

“Whose… fault it… is.”

“Hope it’s ours.” You chuckled.

“In… indeed. And I… can’t take it… much longer…”

These words were Issac’s clue to stop what he was doing, causing Arthur to whimper.

“You’re being so mean today…”

“Sorry. Just a little longer.”

Isaac’s hands returned to your hips, this time slipping under your clothes, massaging the skin, then down your legs. One hand climbed the inside of your tight, until a couple of fingers were probing you, testing how ready you were. The other massaged your clit until you started trying to grind against him.

Then his hands returned to your hips, and he guided you back, until you found yourself sitting directly over Arthur.

He didn’t need to say anything. You lowered your body, letting him fill you. Both of you groaned, finally getting what you wanted.

But as soon as he was all the way in, Isaac kissed your neck, then nibbled at your ear.

“Stay still.” He whispered in that sweet, erotic tone you were so weak for.

“Newt…” Arthur complained.

Both of you knew he wasn’t that serious, but this time you felt like complaining, too. But the fact Isaac was finding the confidence to lead you like that was hot enough for you to let it pass.

Arthur’s complaint turned into a low moan and his body jerked again, making you bounce a little. There was a quiet moment, then it happened again.

All the while, the bed creaked as Isaac reached for where he left the rest of the toys, then extended a hand so you could see what he had.

“Do you mind?” He asked, with a certain hesitation, but not the usual shyness.

It was another pair of handcuffs. You had bought a set of toys that came with three.

But it took you a moment to respond, realizing Isaac had something else in hand that had gotten a reaction out of Arthur. The control for the vibrator from earlier. It was very quiet, so you hadn’t noticed, but now you could hear the low hum of each pulse from it, quickly covered by Arthur’s groans and whimpers.

You gulped, but nodded and put your arms back. Still, he caressed your skin without making any move to bind you.

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

He was gentle in making sure he had you in the most comfortable position possible before locking the cuffs. Then he caressed your arm and kissed your shoulder.

“We’ll get there soon.” His hands returned to caressing your body, this time up to your breasts. He circled both of your nipples from over your cloth. Such a different feeling from the contact of bare skins.

He gently tugged on the tips, while his mouth explored your neck, then his hands covered your breasts and kneaded the skin.

Arthur groaned, even before another pulse of the vibrator, watching Isaac touch you. He tried to buck his hips into you, but Isaac was probably holding him down. But the small movement was enough to make you whimper again.

Isaac licked and nibbled at your neck, his hands sliding down, back to your legs and your clothes, this time climbing your body from under them, then back down again, lightly squeezing your ass.

“Where do you want me?”

“Wherever you want, love.” It wouldn’t be the first time you had both of them in either way, and at this point you were beside the point of caring, as long as you got what you needed.

Both you and Arthur moaned as one of his fingers probed the place where both of you were joined.

This always took a little longer to prepare, but you were definitely ready.

But Isaac changed his mind, his hands sliding up back up to your ass and the tip of a finger teased your entrance.

“I think you’re at your limit.”

“Don’t mind… us.” Arthur told him breathlessly. “What… about you?”

With Arthur handcuffed from the beginning and the way he stayed before you, neither of you had the opportunity to touch Isaac all night.

“Watching you has been just enough to get me there, too. Can I continue?”

“Yes.” You and Arthur said in unison.

Isaac’s hands moved away for a moment, but returned shortly. The lube felt slightly cold, making you squirm a little, and that was enough to make him pause.

“Don’t stop.” Your tone was so pleading that you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate.

Isaac kissed your shoulder again, and a finger pushed into you with ease.

“Almost there, darling.” A second finger joined the first. “You feel so ready already, but I just want to make sure.”

“We have… been ready for… a while, sweetie.”

“Aren’t you too, luv?”

Isaac groaned, pulling his hands away. You just felt him move in a certain hurry, then his hands returned to your hips and his lips were on your neck again, sucking sweetly, before his fangs grazed your skin.

“May I?”

“Do it.”

He gripped you tighter and adjusted himself, and his fangs pierced into you just as he did.

Both yours and Arthur’s cry of your boyfriend’s name resounded together, as well as Isaac’s groan as he drank from you.

No matter how many times you did this, the combined pleasure was still overwhelming and made your head spin.

“The two of you feel so good,” Isaac moaned as he pulled away, thrusting into you slow and hard, making you rock on Arthur, as he licked your neck off any spill of your blood.

“You’re… still holding back?” Arthur asked.

“Not… enough for you? Should I… turn the… vibrator back on?”

Arthur gave a dry laugh and shook his head.

But as Isaac’s thrusts turned shallower, and one of his hands pulled away, you thought he would do it anyway, only for that hand to return to you, fingers slick with lube that played with your clit.

When you thought it would finally push you past your limit, his hand was back on your hip, and Isaac started thrusting harder again. The lube easing the friction between your skin and Arthur’s, making this ride easier and more pleasurable.

This time he didn’t stay on that slow pace for long, building speed as his breathing grew heavier and he started kissing and nibbling your neck again.

Arthur came first, filling you up with such a loud moan you would later be thankful you didn’t live in an apartment anymore.

A couple more thrusts did you in right after, your body collapsing forward, but Isaac held you, gently stroking your skin and whispering sweetly praise to you.

You were barely aware that he had stopped, and of him removing the cuffs from you, but as your mind started to clear, he nudged you forward so your body was parallel to Arthur’s, and handed you the keys.

You released Arthur as Isaac started thrusting into you again. One of Arthur’s hands went immediately to the back of your head, pulling you closer, his lips on your neck, kissing it.

“Sorry if I can’t be gentler, luv.” He whispered right before sinking his fangs on you, right over where Isaac did.

This didn’t take long to pull another orgasm out of you, your mind going blank with pleasure, and Isaac soon followed. Arthur kept kissing your neck, one hand caressing your hair, the other rubbing your back.

Isaac pulled away as you let yourself lay on top of Arthur, connected as you were.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked, sitting on the head of the bed by your side. “Did I go too far?”

“We are fine.” You smiled tiredly at him.

“And you did wonderfully, luv.” Arthur caressed his arm.

Isaac bent down and kissed both of you.

“Good.” Isaac said, flustered. “Your wrists okay?”

“Slightly sore, but we expected that.”

“Not something I would wear often, but not something that can hurt once in a while.” Arthur added.

“Should I get you cleaned, or are you joining me in the bath?”

“Can you get up?” Arthur asked you.

“I think so. Since you are taking one, another bath sounds nice.” you reached out and gently squeezed his leg. “But before that, did we sate your curiosity? Did you enjoy today?”

Isaac frowned, getting even redder, but you saw the silent determination in his eyes. He knew this feedback was important to you.

“I am satisfied with today. Although I prefer when we have equal freedom around each other, having both of you so vulnerable with me… Trusting me like that…”

“Hope that means you will be comfortable coming to us whenever you are curious about something else.” You sat up and hugged Issac. Arthur did the same.

“I love you.” Isaac whispered, his voice a little hoarse. He looked ready to cry.

Isaac being this overwhelmed by love and trust was becoming rarer, and you believed he would grow out of it. But while not, you would be there to support him.

“We love you too.”

And you stayed like that until Isaac calmed down, and even after getting cleaned up and ready to bed, that was how you went to sleep, with Isaac nested between you, showered in all your love and attention.

Tag List:

@natimiles, @bicayaya, @tele86, @nightghoul381

@2-lines-and-a-circle, @eventinelysplayground

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, even if it's in specific contents, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[summerwritesfics]

🍡It’s Been Such A Long Time Coming But I Feel Good

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 803 Words Rating: Teen Warnings: Fluff, Body Image, Supportive Hanzo Hasashi, Kuai Liang Get’s To Wear A Dress, Touches A Little On Gender Norms, Challenging Gender Norms, Insecurity, Self Confidence @lgbtqbingo: “Wear That Dress, Life Is Too Short To Blend In.”

Summary: Kuai Liang debates what to wear to a Special Forces fundraiser.

LGBTQ Bingo Masterlist

Notes: Just a short and sweet one to fill up a bingo square ^^ I love putting Kuai Liang in pretty things, he’s basically a dress up doll for me at this point lol. Title is from Good Enough by Evanescence.

Kuai stared at the dress in his closet with so much longing.

He’d brought it a while ago and not yet found a reason to wear it. Well, he supposed technically Johnny had been the one to pay for it, as part of a Birthday shopping spree he’d whisked Kuai off to. He had tried it on in the shop, Johnny and the sales assistant had both told him how good he looked in it. It was beautiful, blue and floor length with lace details. It had been incredibly pricey, but Johnny was insistent on being Kuai’s “sugar daddy” for the day.

The reason he was looking so longingly at it now was that he actually had somewhat of a reason to wear it. Special Forces were having some sort of fundraiser, and Kuai had been invited as an affiliate to show a collection of wealthy donors of the good work they’d been doing in keeping Earthrealm safe. The dress was perfect for the classy dress code he’d been given.

There was a doubt in his mind however. Is it appropriate for me to wear a dress to a function like this? It would surely be more expected of him to wear a suit. While he didn’t mind the idea of that, something about actually getting the chance to wear the dress was calling to him.

He took it out, stripping himself of the clothes he was currently wearing to slip the dress on instead. It still fit nicely, which was a relief, he had been somewhat nervous he might have put on weight since he’d brought it. He walked over to his mirror, looking at it. Unfortunately, he had issues with his body, and had for many years. Usually when he looked in the mirror all he ever saw was a scarred hurting old man.

What he saw in the mirror while wearing the dress was someone comfortable and confident in who they were.

He spun from side to side, looking over his figure. It was quite form fitting, clung to his body but not in a way that made him feel awkward. Still, can I really justify wearing it to this particular function? But then, if he didn’t wear it now, when could he wear it? If he kept backing out, it would always just stay stashed away in the closet, never to be seen by the rest of the world.

He jumped slightly at a knock on his door, and before waiting for a reply, it opened. Therefore, it was not in the slightest bit surprising to see Hanzo step inside. He did have a habit of not waiting for an invite.

“Kuai Liang, are you rea- Wow.” Hanzo cut himself off, falling into a stunned silence, as his eyes looked Kuai up and down. “You look… exquisite.”

“Thank you,” Kuai sighed, feeling his cheeks go hot. He still wasn’t quite used to how casually and genuinely Hanzo could compliment him. “I don’t know if I’ll be wearing it, though.”

“What? Why not?” Hanzo questioned, closing the door behind him and hurrying to his side.

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel… appropriate.” He looked down, Gods, this dress was gorgeous. Even if he didn’t wear it tonight, he was at least eternally thankful Johnny had convinced him to get it. “If I’m the only man wearing a dress, won’t I stand out a little?”

“Do you want to wear the dress?” Hanzo asked firmly, taking a closer look at it himself. Honestly, the fact that Hanzo seemed to like it on him just added to that feeling of confidence when wearing it.

“I mean… Yes, but…”

“But what?” Hanzo questioned, reaching his hand to cup Kuai Liang’s cheek. “Why should it matter if you stand out? Wear that dress, life is too short to blend in.”

Kuai considered that for a moment. He was an assassin, blending in was usually the best way to accomplish his goals. But, he wasn’t going to this fundraiser to assassinate someone. He was going as a favour to Special Forces. And hell, if anyone had a problem with what he was wearing? He could always point out Johnny was the one who brought it for him.

“So. I ask again.” Hanzo brought his hand down, gently tilting Kuai’s head upwards slightly. “Do you want to wear the dress?”

“Yes,” Kuai said, a small smile on his face quickly growing to a full grin. “Yes I want to wear this dress.” He quickly grabbed Hanzo’s hand, holding it in his own and squeezing. “Now, let’s go raise some funds.”

Hanzo snorted, “it would be my pleasure.”

Kuai wasn’t sure how the night would pan out, but he knew that at the very least, Hanzo would be by his side, supporting him no matter what.

[fullpenguincupcake]

Alternate reality: Sweetest connection - A Luigi Mangione fanfic.

Story excerpt can be found here.

The subway car rattled and hummed, its fluorescent lights flickering as it barreled through the dark tunnel. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and damp concrete, the occasional cough or murmur of conversation breaking the monotony. You shifted in your seat, your knee accidentally brushing against the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, scusa!” he said quickly, his voice soft but warm, with a faint Italian accent. You turned to see him—tall, lanky, dressed in a green button-up shirt that clung just a little too tightly to his frame. His face was boyish, with a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he met your gaze. It was unmistakably him—Luigi, the Mario brother, the quieter one, the one who always seemed to linger in the background.

You blinked, unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you. “Uh… it’s fine,” you replied, your voice hesitant. “You’re… Luigi, right?”

His blush deepened, and he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Ah, sì,” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “I’m Luigi. I, uh… didn’t expect to be recognized here. It’s kind of… a quiet day for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. There was something endearing about his awkwardness, the way he seemed to shrink into himself, as if he wasn’t used to being noticed. “Well, it’s not every day you run into a celebrity on the subway,” you teased lightly.

He laughed, a soft, nervous chuckle that made your stomach flutter. “I’m not much of a celebrity,” he said, shaking his head. “Mario, he’s the… the famous one. I’m just… the guy in green, you know?”

There was a hint of self-deprecation in his tone, and it made your chest tighten. You leaned a little closer, lowering your voice. “I don’t know. I think you’re pretty great.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then, slowly, a shy smile spread across his face. “Grazie,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. “That’s… very kind of you to say.”

The subway car jolted slightly, and your shoulder bumped against his. Neither of you moved away. The silence between you was charged, a quiet electricity that made your heart race. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something about him—something sweet, something vulnerable—that drew you in.

“So, uh…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ride the subway often?”

He shook his head. “No, not really. I usually… I mean, Mario usually drives us everywhere. But today, he’s busy, and I… I wanted to get some fresh air, I guess.”

“Fresh air?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “On the subway?”

He laughed again, this time more freely. It was a warm, genuine sound that made your insides melt. “Okay, maybe not fresh air,” he admitted. “But… it’s nice, you know? Being around people, even if they don’t… even if they don’t know who I am.”

There was a wistfulness in his voice, a longing that made your heart ache. You reached out, your hand brushing against his. He stilled, his breath catching, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know who you are,” you said softly, your fingers lacing with his. “And I think you’re pretty amazing.”

His blush deepened, and he looked at you, his eyes wide and searching. “Grazie,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible over the rumble of the subway. “That means… that means a lot.”

The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Then, tentatively, he squeezed your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

The subway car screeched to a halt, the doors sliding open with a hiss. People began to shuffle out, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous station. You glanced at the doors, then back at Luigi, your heart pounding.

“Is this your stop?” you asked, your voice tinged with disappointment.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I… I don’t really have anywhere to be right now.” His gaze locked with yours, and there was a boldness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Unless… unless you’re getting off here.”

Your breath caught. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then… maybe I’ll stay a little longer.”

The subway car was nearly empty now, the few remaining passengers scattered in distant seats. The air between you was charged, a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle. You could feel the warmth of his body, the way his breath hitched as he gazed at you.

“Luigi…” you began, but he shook his head, his fingers tightening around yours.

“No,” he said softly. “Let me… let me just…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, and then, tentatively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it made your heart ache.

It was over almost as soon as it began, but the warmth lingered, a sweet, lingering sensation that left you breathless. He pulled back, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Scusa,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I… I shouldn’t have…”

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “No,” you murmured, your voice firm. “Don’t apologize.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he leaned in again, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deeper, bolder, more confident. His hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer.

The world around you faded away, the rattling of the subway, the distant murmur of voices—none of it mattered. All that mattered was him, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your hearts racing in sync. He gazed at you, his eyes dark with desire, his cheeks flushed.

“I… I should…” he began, but you shook your head, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“Stay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… stay.”

He hesitated, then nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Sì,” he whispered. “I’ll stay.”

The subway car jolted again, the lights flickering overhead, but neither of you noticed. You were lost in each other, the world outside forgotten.

“Luigi…” you began, but he shook his head, his fingers brushing against your lips.

“No,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Just… let me be here with you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a warmth you couldn’t explain. And in that moment, as the subway barreled through the darkness, you knew that nothing else mattered but this—this sweet, unexpected connection, this quiet, unspoken bond.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and charged, until finally, he spoke again, his voice trembling slightly.

“Can I… can I have your number?” he asked, his eyes wide with hope.

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, you can.”

To unravel the depths of their connection and step into the heart of their raw, unfiltered intimacy, click here. Beyond this moment lies a world of desire and transformation, where every whispered word and deliberate touch weaves a story of surrender and self-discovery. Dare to explore what happens when boundaries blur, and the extraordinary begins.

If this story ignites your imagination, and you yearn to craft an alternate reality of your own—one filled with raw emotion, layered characters, and transformative intimacy—click here to begin building a world where desires shape destinies, and every scene leaves a lasting imprint.

Step inside and discover the tools to not only read but create stories that resonate deeply and linger endlessly.

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 46 - evening dresses in 1922

Honestly, I’m not impressed with a lot of Mary’s evening wardrobe this season. Now, she does start out in mourning and general world-hating. Let’s see what we have.

Though if I look at it from another perspective, Mary could make for an awesome 1920s goth queen in these. Dark purple with black beading that even looks a little like a spiderweb or gloomy bare twigs in the nightly forest? Mary, if you tap into your Susan Sto Helit potential, I might like you a little more.

This dress gets a repeat next season, and although I’m not a great fan of these straight chest cutoff lines under the chiffon layer (which it loses later on as Mary replaces the under layer), this is not the worst execution of the concept. These scallops of black beading that seem to drip down toward the grey of the dress and then frame these little bundles of flowers or grapes? Nice. I think the dress is better off without the velvet sash around the drop waist, but that’s just me.

Half a dress that’ll make a comeback in season 5, this completely see-through layer with the black embroidery is apparently not attached to the purple dress at all because Mary later wears it over a black one (although backward) with the necklines matching better. With the purple one and the necklines not lining up, it honestly looks a little too modern for my taste.

I’m not sure if this is red in the right light or brown. The flowy shiny satin is still nice, and I’m not opposed to this deep V wrap top style. But for the sake of getting to write something about her outfits, I’m glad when Mary comes out of her Queen Gloom phase.

And one for the apron style, light grey and dark grey get combined to this colorful, novel look with black beading because black beading is just Mary’s thing now. The flower motif looks a little isolated there; could’ve spread further. Where did Mary put all her bling?

See? She does have bling; she even has tiaras and can wear them now that she’s a Mrs. The red dress is the one she puts on for her father’s birthday, and finally I’m getting a bit of light in this darkness. For one, the lace is very pretty. And then the under layer is finally cutting off in a more charming shape than a straight line. Serving a look worth mentioning!

The way they treated this poor dress, it definitely wasn’t an original, but I still think it didn’t deserve the mess. Look at the darling flower embroidery! It’s almost enough for me to call this a favorite, despite the cut being pretty well-trodden territory. The color is lovely, and the drop waist sash even has a silver ornament to it that has the exact shape of the embroidered flowers.

Once again silver on black, although it may be easy to miss from afar that this dress is almost entirely covered in sequins. So now her vibe shifts from gloom and doom to “would probably look spectacular under a night club’s lighting”, not that I expect Mary to ever set foot in a night club. I wish I could see what’s going on with that skirt hem – is that just fluttery or is that a fringe?

Uhm. It’s purple, I guess. It has a bit of embroidery above her chest. And that’s it. I resent this dress. Mary, it’s London season; go all fancy, will you? Why isn’t she wearing a necklace to that much plain backdrop?

My taste is very fickle. This dress doesn’t do a lot different than the last one, being one long sheath of color with the embroidery restricted to the top, but this one I love. It must be the neckline; Mary’s red dress last season did this draping over the throat and it completely got me. Granted, I also think the silver embroidery and beading is a lot more charming than the last. And Mary has finally found her jewelry box.

This doesn’t seem to be quite Mary’s typical shade of red; it’s playing a little at coral. I don’t know what this black wedge embroidery is inspired by (cuneiform?), but hey, at least it’s lively and colorful and gets combined with a pretty little pendant.

Oh, I finally have a favorite again! This does so well with the golden glitter ornaments all over the salmon, pulling its weight via the fabric alone again while sticking to the very basic shape that Mary’s dresses have settled into. She keeps this for season 5, and although she doesn’t wear the beautiful tassel necklace and one of the prettiest tiaras on the whole show then, she does allow me a look at the raised hem of the uper layer and the ruffle in the front. Very lovely.

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We Be Lonely Together? Ch. 3

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

Sorry if this fic looks super long I don't know how to make it shorter on mobile.

check my blog for prev. chapters.

This is a gender neutral reader fic but is just this author attempt at a crack ship between Homie and Joe Goldberg, obviously. this is a slow burn fic

Sypnosis: We were both mices prentending to be cats? We just didn't expect for things to turn out like this... for you to refus me..to not believe my feelings for you were genuine, you threw awful words at me calling me a psychotic bitch, a stalker... a Liar.

A Liar? after everything I've done for you! For us! After everythign I did to protect you?

You were wrong.

R18+ TW for drug abuse, Domestic abuse mention (this fic will contain some smut and gore in future entrances btw.)

Chapter 3

DIY Incidents.

Smile, nod, don’t question or talk to the upper ranks. 

This was Vought etiquette 101, and here I was fucking that up. 

I wish I could say I went straight home instead of running into CVS to buy the mellowest body spray I could find, something that wouldn’t bother your nostrils, something gentle even my soap now had to be mellow. Our first interaction weighed heavily in my mind, I had an inkling from the look in your eyes, and the alarm bells in your amygdala that we were going to meet soon– on your terms of course. 

So I dressed nicely, I wanted to see just how much I’ve earned of your attention. How much were you willing to give and how– so I wore pretty clothes, did my hair and booked a hairdressers appointment for this afternoon in case you noticed any dead ends, or it wasn’t up your liking– after all my competition was a literal Queen and Nazi pussy. I needed to stand out. Did you want it long? short? bob? buzzed? 

I waited all day.

All day trying to be a decent person and keep my mind away from yours; at least I had a pile of work to distract me at least– after all this department had remained understaffed. All three people hired alongside me had lasted less than a week. Seems Cassandra and Kevin had a knack for firing people. I simply had no presence for them to judge, probably why Deep gave me strange looks from time to time now he regretted not doing that of course.

As the end grew near on the clock above me, I relinquished– my crotch itchy from this lace, I thought you would like what you see… look at me… I wanted you to look at me and grin.

Oh shit!

Anika was louder than usual, her mind a sonata of anxiety and deadline reminders– I lifted my eyes.

Chest puffed, arms tight behind you and your hair slicked back in far more authoritarian fashion than usual, things were slipping under your boots and I guess you needed to scream ‘I’m on top of it’ whatever this thing that needed topping was– I was jealous.

Anika shrank in her seat, feeling her throat expand and shrink simultaneously as you laid your most casual jovial smile, practice made perfect; But Anika no longer could be fooled, you frightened her, you could smell it too, it made you laugh when you flashed your fangs, and her heart skipped a beat.

She was screaming in delight as you passed by her desk, heading towards me. 

The guy nearest to me glad to clock out just now, I straightened my back and made my way into you, seeing myself through your eyes. 

My hair frizzy, shirt creased from slouching, and you could smell my hot chocolate.

Your nose crinkle at the scent, that other you doing quick math to calculate the caloric content of my drink, it was pungent with its sweetness. My hand unconsciously took the cup into my lap, not because I wanted to get it away from you, I wanted it to wash over you, and give you a reason to look at my lap.

“How can I be of service, Mister Gillman?” 

There it was– a twitch on your brow, you weren’t used to this tone, so casual, and friendly. Surprised to hear how calm my heartbeat was. I was sweet, customer service had drilled this voice into my chords, it was easy to do some infiltrating if you knew how to talk.

My supervisor's eyes were the size of Jupiter, her tongue filled with cotton, unable to believe what I had uttered.

I mean that was your name, no? Was I supposed to call you “Homelander”, was that part of our corporate etiquette? I mean I called Roman by his first name. So why did you need to be different?

“Just doing the rounds, I hadn’t had an opportunity to meet the new recruits!”

“It's just little ol’ me left– the rest didn’t survive this death game.”

You had lost your train of thought, between the drink and my words.

“Too sweet?”

“What?”

“The drink?” There I was trying my darndest to get caught– I… I forgot you had… super senses, right? I had a friend in college she was a supe, she hated my drinks'' I laughed, you can’t believe I didn’t have encyclopedic knowledge about you, well sorry so far I had only partially read your wiki entry– its six sugars, whip cream and caramel drizzle on top-- there's a hot choccy simmering somewhere there.”

I turned to my computer, placing the cup down after a long sip guzzling the grainy remains, hands back on my keyboard.

“You were the lost little lamb wondering about last night.” yeah, my cheeks still flushed– quite a nice spot for a corporate spy.”

“Nah I couldn’t even get a job in I.T or Crisis Management.” I’m glad you ignored my snark, and interesting choice– can’t be very good at spying if I got caught”

“You did work for Banvision.”

“Vought has a very comprehensive 401k plan, and if I pass my six month probationary period I might qualify for a discounted Vought Health Insurance plan– that’s a lot I can save on dental.”

That guy still hasn’t left, constantly exchanging looks with Anika asking wordlessly if they needed to get a mop instead of a gurney. 

“What happened to your hand?” my tone grating, so you changed the topic trying to stop yourself from melting my face off.

It had been weeks but my cheeks were still olive, and my hand still bandaged.

“DIY incident.”

“And the face?”

“That’s my ex’s nickname.” Now you calm down– He hates supes, so I thought it would be funny if I got a job here. I love it here, it is probably the nicest place I’ve worked so far, everybody in this department and Mister and Miss Murkovitz are just so welcoming! I feel like I’m doing something good for once.``

“I’m glad… to hear.”

Your posture softens, you assumed men put me on edge, but I still bothered you, I spoke as if i read off a script in your mind. Just to double check you needed to find something off, to ease your concerns.

All your trained had prepared you to control that split second where you lost control of your facial expression, before carving it back to normal– there I was seeing myself grin slyly. 

I crossed my ankle above my knee like a bloke desperate to take extra space in the train, give you a nice peek of this sweet black lace, pressing tightly against my skin, crotchless exposing it all for you, bra cut so low it only really held the idea of support, it was all exposed, beneath this serious facade.

“Well if there’s anything I can do for you, sir… please do let me know, I’ll be more than eager to help, Mister Gillman.” 

The customer service voice took you by surprise, and your gaze diverted to my desk. I came on strong-- It 's not like I was doing it on purpose.

My book, the bent bookmark sticking out from within the first one hundred pages, you stared at it for a solid five seconds.

“Is a waste of time” I tensed, you noticed– the book! I read it is pretty bad.” you mumbled– keep up the good work… eh your name…”

Humoring you with my name, and went back to my computer screen, ignoring you, watching you talk to Homelander about what you just divulged, it was minor but you hoped I wouldn't think too deeply as to why you of all people– was reading YA fantasy. Wondering why I didn’t seem to care if you existed, treating you like any annoying chump in the office.

I stared at that book my whole way home.

And that’s when I knew you weren’t just cute. You let me see something special, I made you want to share– I knew the panties were the right move! 

I had never been so eager to return to work before, so excited and anxious for my phone alarm to go off, I decided I had to do my homework, I got your attention. I was going to milk it. 

But if I had one complaint… is that… you made this needlessly difficult for me, all your social media was filtered through at least five publicists before “you” even pressed ‘post’. All of this was the same carefully constructed persona, that repeated itself without flavor or substance, your Twitter, Facebook, Instagram were all the same so I started digging, finding nothing! You gave me nothing.

Fuming I headed back to the office, it was still around 10 p.m. If anybody caught me I would've just say I’d left something, even bringing my spare phone charger to pretend I left it behind on my desk. 

So here I’m sitting on my office desk past ten navigating this whole building to find you, to find you home drinking a latte, your mind distracted by this terrorist running amok– this wouldn’t do, and before I knew it I was frustrated enough… I needed to know… I needed for you to stop playing coy with me. I hated knowing Roman could be right about anything, looking around the empty room I headed to the bathroom dragging the cable visibly for the cameras to spot, the toilets vacant at this hours.

Roman was a great ex, not awful in bed and always generous to help his whore out for the tough jobs– after seven years he knew this made the jobs go quickly hence why I stole it in the first place. I wasn’t a fan but this wasn’t cheap, it fucked me up, I swore to stay off this crap– yet you were worth it. Growing up I heard of Mindstorm, and dreamed to one day be as well adjusted as him, after all our powers were so similar, but deep down yours truly was a bootleg version– until I took this. Now sitting on the toilet floor I placed a pen in my hand, tying it with tape, my notebook on the toilet lid, placing a handkerchief in between my teeth, sticking my toes apart I pressed the needle watching the compound V color my veins.

Holy fuck.

It was the best…

I could cum just from the first five second rush alone. 

No longer a foggy unexplored map, I saw you in vignettes– You had nothing, no accounts for me to stalk, no secret Voughtify, Twitter, Facebook, Insta, Tiktok, VK, Weibo, Habbo? I'm still unsure how you knew what Habbo was even to this day.  Livejournal, MySpace, Youtube account, Google+, Pinterest, not even a RYM or Pornhub account… Jesus– I was starting to scrape the bottom of this barrel with neopets (actually you did have one but you forgot the password so it wasn’t useful to me right in that instant!), or something like NHentai, Grindr…bumble…how did you live!?… but Homie you didn’t even have a fucking Tumblr! (of your own) you… you had nothing… and then it hit me… my book… I mean… could it be? Obviously you didn’t have a wattpad or fanfiction.net account, I was praying for an Ao3… even some weird Lit forum– I mean nice that you lurked the Chans to trash talk books.

Out of all the places you could’ve played pretend in… Goodreads? not even VReads? Not even your own company’s knockoff!? But my hand already took note of your username and password while seeing your home as you gave me this private room,  heading upstairs to bury yourself on a small leather couch to sit down to read, it took me a second… you had… taste. From my wrongful assumptions I had pen you for a lover of classical Americana, cowboys and fifty’s pulp, classics made by men not even giving Bronte or Austen a chance, so I was surprise you were enjoying House of Leaves… that was unexpected, the fact you read at all was a surprise, the massive library around you had all sorts, from bargain bin trash to classical first editions, even sneak peaks at manuscripts before they had even hit the printers as if you were Miranda Priestly-- all for you. Books of every genre, plenty worn down and some untouched.

Standing up, I could clean the blood off my upper lip happily. 

I packed my mess, ripping the tape off my hand cursing as my fingers ached from my wound.

It has been too long… each step lighter than before, everyone's mind now on the forefront.

“Help…” that’s all I could ask.

My mind was being assaulted by screaming babies experiencing discomfort for the first time, The rest of the Seven’s nervous racketeering, from the security guards on edge, the poor overworked folks in Crisis Management and Special Services, with an honorable mention to the lab rats below– somehow I stumbled upwards, light headed and blood trickling down my mouth.

I took the needle and threw it down the toilet, fumbling my way out of the bathroom.

Louder. louder. fuck I was going deaf. I could hurl all the blood out my body, I had taken too much, it should have been half of that.

“Someone… he…help me.”

This… this batch had been adulterated… somebody messed with this shit. Roman… I though.

Too many people talking, thinking, their childhood traumas playing without permission… oh that bitch… she fucking hates you, her hexes and curses distract me enough as I collapse in the ground.

“Homelander…” stop talking shit about Homelander was the last thing on my mind.

I don’t remember anything other than feeling something pressing against my sides. 

But even in this state I couldn’t sleep, woken up by the sounds of your neighbors and staff, but you seemed quiet, your mind picturing the purple passages in vibrant colors.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Your couch isn’t exactly comfortable but the fur blanket does compensate for it– what… what time is it?”

“Past 1 a.m. What were you doing here again? spying?”

“Left my charger at my desk.” I said weakly barely getting upwards– I am so sorry, sir.”

“What did you take? Meth?”

“Heroin… bought the cheap shit… seems it wasn’t a good idea changing plugs.”

“So honest.”

“I hate liars. it's insulting” People lied to me all the time but by now I’ve grown jaded of people, you did too– am I fired?”

You could tell I was being genuine, you put your book down for a moment standing up to hand me my purse minus my handkerchief, studying my barely put together attire finding I was bare under it... like you.

“No. but I can’t let you leave either.”

“So a meeting with HR then…”

“Nothing like that, silly. You were bleeding quite a bit, rest then head home tomorrow morning.”

“Shouldn’t I head to the hospital?”

“I had someone check you up downstairs before I brought you here”

You slid towards me placing your nude finger on a loose hair strand, twirling it, watching me with those baby blues.

“Rest. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“You’re most kind John… I meant Homelander.” 

I will admit I was exhausted, my head was throbbing and even talking to you was draining, so I slowly drifted back into my slumber watching my head drop near your thigh leaving your hand hovering above me.

“Thank you for being there for me… haven’t… haven’t experience that in a long time”

“experience what?” your voice is low and confused.

“kindness…you’re sweet…”

Homelander watched you counting the seconds in between your breathing. His finger tracing the shape of your cheeks brushing tenderly, a strange smile made home in his face.

Unlike the one he had right now while you told him your story.

[larkawolfgirl]

Into the Future

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Kyou Kara Maou! Relationship: Wolfram von Bielefeld/Shibuya Yuuri

Summary:  Yuuri uses a magical nightcap to see his future. He wasn't prepared for the revelation that glimpse into the future gave him.

Read on ao3

Another night, another ball. The ballroom of Blood Pledge Castle was decorated with the nicest fineries that Yuuri would allow. The young king wasn’t fond of these grand events. They were too showy and a waste of taxpayer’s money, in his opinion. Still, there was tradition which must be upheld, or so Gunter constantly prattled on about. Yuuri was pretty sure Wolfram wouldn’t be too happy about terminating all future balls either. That said, Wolfram didn’t appear to be enjoying that night's.

The blond was dressed in elegant attire and had stood directly by his side at every opportunity. Normally, Wolfram would animatedly converse with the dignitaries, but tonight, he remained silent for the most part. He reminded Yuuri somewhat of a guard dog, silently assessing the room for any dangers. The only times he parted from Yuuri’s side was when the king agreed to dance with the many ladies who approached him throughout the evening. Even then, the blond’s eyes remained keenly on him.

Splitting his focus, Yuuri kept his eyes on the mazoku as he twirled a young brunette girl around. She looked close to his own age, which Yuuri assumed meant she was in her late eighties. The idea still made his head spin. She was pretty and seemed nice enough, but he was more interested in what was going on inside his friend’s head.

Wolfram’s eyes narrowed at the pair as they spun around. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. Yuuri knew that look far too well. As the music faded out, he let out an exasperated sigh at the conflict he knew was coming.

The girl looked at him inquisitively. “Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. Thank you for the dance.” His fingers fidgeted over the material of his regal suit pants.

The girl grinned and curtsied politely. “The pleasure was mine.”

Yuuri gave her a warm smile before bidding her farewell. He headed back to Wolfram, but his steps were slow. He wasn’t in a rush to get yelled at.

“Wolf,” he greeted his friend with a smile, attempting to smooth over Wolfram’s poor mood. “I hope you’re having fun.”

Wolfram scoffed, his tone sharp and laced with bitterness. “Having fun? How could I possibly have fun watching you dance with all these women?”

Yuuri's smile faltered. He had expected this, but the venom in Wolfram's words was stronger than he had expected. “All I did was dance.” His voice came out strained, attempting to diffuse the situation.

Wolfram's face contorted with frustration, his voice growing louder, echoing through the ballroom. "Just dance? Do you have any idea how it feels to stand here and see the person I love, the person I'm engaged to, wrapped in the arms of someone else?"

The surrounding guests turned their attention to the scene unfolding and began whispering among themselves.

Yuuri glanced at the guests fretfully. Gesturing outside, he asked, “Can we maybe take this outside?” His hand touched Wolfram’s arm, but Wolfram shook his arm out of his grasp.

“No! I’m sick of you downplaying my very real feelings.” He was still angry, but beneath the anger was evident sadness. Yuuri could tell by the sunken look in his eyes and the slight puff in his cheeks. “How am I supposed to trust you not to cheat on me as soon as there aren’t prying eyes around?”

Was that the real reason Wolfram kept so close to him? He was afraid of what he might get up to when he wasn’t around.

Out of habit, Yuuri defended himself the same way he had a million times. “I am not a cheater. It wouldn’t even be cheating anyway.” At his words, Wolfram’s gaze flickered with hurt animosity. Realizing he had made a mistake, Yuuri softened his expression and took a step closer to Wolfram. Sincerely, he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't realize how much it would affect you."

He had only ever been trying to be polite. What was he supposed to do? He was supposed to be the kind demon king, after all.

Wolfram's fists clenched at his sides, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and pain. "You never seem to realize, do you? I've given you my heart, my loyalty, and yet it feels like I'm just a bystander in your life."

The onlookers grew silent, the tension in the air palpable. Wolfram's outburst echoed through the ballroom, capturing the attention of everyone present.

Yuuri reached a trembling hand to Wolfram's arm again, desperate to bridge the growing divide between them. Luckily, he didn’t move away from the touch this time. "Wolfram, of course, you are more than a bystander to me. I know I haven't always shown it, but you mean so much to me. You are my best friend.”

“Friend…” Wolfram took several breaths, his eyes searching Yuuri’s face for sincerity. When he spoke again, it was quiet and somber. “Is that all I’ll ever be to you?”

Yuuri took a step back. That was the best thing he could offer up in his book. But he knew what Wolfram wanted. “I…Is that really so bad?” He scratched his arm. “Isn’t it good enough that I want you to stay by my side?”

Wolfram’s shoulders sagged. "Promise me that I won't have to feel this way again," Wolfram pleaded.

The vulnerability on his face shook Yuuri, and he found himself nodding. It had never ever been his intention to hurt him. "I promise that I will do my best."

With a groan, Wolfram pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you mean well, Yuuri, but that’s the problem. I can only deal with so much of you trying. I need some sort of action, or else this is never going to work.”

Yuuri’s face must have shown his fear, because Wolfram dropped his hand and continued in a softer tone, “I know that we want different things. I’m not trying to force you into anything, but I need you to give me something, Yuuri. I need you to give me something , or I don’t think I can keep doing this. Can’t you at least give me peace of mind? Relief that I won’t have to go through this every month?”

Yuuri frowned. He didn’t want to lose Wolfram from his life. “But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Tell them no,” Wolfram answered immediately with agitation.

“But it isn’t right for me to be rude to our guests.”

Wolfram scowled. “I don’t care what nonsense Gunter says, it’s only right that you refuse to dance with anyone besides your fiance.”

“But I’ve danced with Conrad plenty of times. And Greta.”

“That’s different. They are family. Besides, I trust them.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Yuuri spoke with determination. “Okay. I won’t do this again.”

The blond’s entire body relaxed. He stepped forward with open arms. It was an invitation and Yuuri welcomed it, hugging his friend back. Many guests were still watching them, some were even oo’ing as if they were the sweetest thing they had seen all week, but for once Yuuri didn’t care. He felt safe in Wolfram’s arms, and he hoped that Wolfram felt safe as well. He didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already had.

Gunter rose as Yuuri entered his office the next morning. "Ah! Good morning, Your Majesty! You look as radiant as always. I have prepared a riveting lecture over the Great Water Flood of 1504."

The tutor's face was gleeful, but Yuuri felt a twinge of guilt as he asked him to change his plans. "Actually, Gunter... I was hoping we could explore the treasury room today."

As expected, Gunter's expression fell. "The treasury, sire? Why ever for?"

"Well, as the king, I should know what we have stored in there. I only know about a handful of items, so I was hoping you could give me a lecture on each item's uses and backstories."

Gunter clasped his hands, his face lighting up once again. "That is a marvelous idea, Your Majesty! Of course, you would think of such a marvelous thing!"

Gunter led the way to the treasury room. Dust particles danced in the sunlight that streamed through the narrow windows, adding an air of mystery to the room. Morgif wailed in greeting from where he was held up against the side wall.

Yuuri raised a hand to the sword. “Hey, Morgif. Have you been having fun without me?”

The sword wailed louder. Yuuri gave a cringing smile in return, unsure whether the sword was exclaiming in agreement or chastising him for leaving him alone in here. He had a strong feeling it was the latter. “How about we go play together later, okay?”

Morgif huffed and let out a long ooo sound.

“Sounds like a plan.”

"Your Majesty, over here" Gunter announced, gesturing toward a display case in the corner of the room. "This is where we keep some of our most extraordinary and enchanting items."

Yuuri's eyes widened with anticipation as he approached the display case. His gaze was immediately drawn to a shining object at the center. It was a majestic headpiece adorned with intricate designs and sparkling gems.

"What's that?" Yuuri asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Gunter beamed. "This is the Foresees Night Cap. It is said to possess the ability to reveal glimpses of the future to the wearer within their dreams."

Yuuri leaned in closer, his eyes fixated on the nightcap. Its craftsmanship was impeccable, and the jewels shimmered as if holding secrets within their depths. "It's fascinating," Yuuri murmured, his fingers itching to touch the artifact.

Gunter smiled, pleased that Yuuri was taking an interest in his lecture for once. "Quite so. All you have to do is wear it on your head when you go to bed. Not only can you see the future, but you can live it as well."

"Can I try it?"

Gunter hesitated for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Of course, Your Majesty. It is crucial, though, that you never take the nightcap off while in the future, or else you risk becoming stuck in that time. Remember, you may not be pleased by what you see. The future is ever-changing. What the nightcap shows will only be one of several possibilities: the one that you are most aligned with at this current point in time. However, any change in your current actions or line of thinking may alter the future in enormous ways.”

That made sense. Lots of time travel stories Yuuri had watched and read used this as a plot point. In that case, it almost seemed pointless. Any future he saw might not come about because of him seeing it. Yet, if his future was horrible, then he could gain the knowledge to change it. Despite the uncertainty, he felt an inexplicable pull toward the nightcap, an eagerness to glimpse the path that lay ahead. As the king of a kingdom, it seemed important to check in on the future to make sure he wasn’t leading them toward doom or anything.

Really, though, he was just curious.

Carefully, Yuuri reached out and lifted the nightcap from its display case. He marveled at its weightlessness, its texture smooth against his fingertips. With a mix of trepidation and excitement, he placed the nightcap on his head.

He waited for something magical to happen, but his expectations were left by the wayside. He could barely even feel the nightcap in place it was so weightless. No sparks flew and no visions played over his eyes.

Gunter chuckled. “As I said, Your Majesty, you must sleep with it. Now,” the tutor gestured back to the display case, “might I show you some of our other artifacts?”

That evening, Yuuri entered his bedchamber with the nightcap still securely on his head. He moved with a sense of purpose, preparing for bed as quickly as possible in anticipation of what the nightcap might reveal to him. As he began to change into his sleepwear, he was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

Back from his evening bath, Wolfram paused in the doorway as he set his eyes on Yuuri’s new headpiece.

“What are you wearing?” His voice was a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

A small smile tugged at Yuuri’s lips. "A nightcap," he answered simply.

Wolfram's eyebrows furrowed, clearly perplexed by Yuuri's choice of attire. "Why?"

"To keep my ears warm," Yuuri responded nonchalantly as he finished dressing as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world.

Wolfram plopped down in an armchair and crossed his arms, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "It's summer, Yuuri."

Yuuri shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "So? I have low body temperature."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "Sure you do."

Yuuri chuckled, slipping into bed and adjusting the nightcap slightly. He patted the empty space next to him, inviting Wolfram to join him. "Come on. You can tease me all you want in the morning, but for now, let's get some rest."

With a mixture of exasperation and fondness, Wolfram relented and climbed into bed, casting a lingering gaze at the nightcap.

Just as the night before, the blond kept a reasonable distance between them. Perhaps he was still upset by what had happened at the ball, or perhaps he thought that this would give Yuuri less reason to “cheat” on him. Either way, Yuuri was acutely aware of the change. He enjoyed his personal space, but he didn’t like knowing that Wolfram was still troubled and having no idea what to do about it. Maybe the nightcap could help him figure something out.

Yuuri closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation in his head. Warmth radiated his senses through the darkness of his closed eyelids. I know you show the future, but can you help me sort things out with Wolfram? he pleaded to the nightcap. A gentle lullaby began to whisper within his mind quickly sending him into sleep.

Yuuri's eyes fluttered open. His bedchamber was strangely unfamiliar. The bedsheets were a different color and decorations he had never seen before adorned the walls. Looking up, he could see a large hand-painted canvas hanging above the bed frame.

Wolfram must have painted it, he realized.

It was a snapshot of their family, the three of them standing together in vibrant, alive colors. Yuuri wasn’t an art critic, but he could tell that a lot of warmth and love went into its creation. In the painting, Yuuri had his arms wrapped around a smiling Wolfram. Their happiness was palpable and it made something stir inside Yuuri’s chest.

He wanted them to be that happy.

Movement against his chest disturbed his train of thought. Wolfram–always beautiful–looked ten times so as he held himself up with a single arm. His chest hovered over Yuuri’s own, the neckline of his baby blue nightgown sagging to leave the view of his front exposed. His legs shifted against Yuuri as he made himself more comfortable.

Wolfram’s beautiful face wrinkled. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing on your head? You look stupid.”

Wolfram made a swipe at the nightcap, but Yuuri ducked his head down and out of reach. Yuuri's brows furrowed, feeling a mix of offense and embarrassment. His head felt like it was spinning. Hadn’t Wolfram asked him the same thing just the night before? That really meant he must be in the future.

"Hey, it's not ridiculous!" Yuuri exclaimed. "And it's... important," he stuttered, struggling to hide the truth without outright lying.

Wolfram chuckled, the sound comforting yet teasing. He leaned in closer, locking their eyes together. "No reason to get so worked up over it, wimp. I still love you, no matter how silly you look."

Yuuri's heart fluttered at the mention of their love, but he couldn't shake the overwhelming confusion that consumed him. He wasn’t in love with Wolfram. So, why was this future making him so excited? Why was this the future he was seeing anyway?

Wolfram laughed at whatever expression he was making. Before Yuuri knew what was happening, Wolfram swooped in and stole a kiss. Yuuri remained stock still until the blond broke away, when he traced his finger over his trembling lips.

Wolfram just stole his first kiss!  

“Such a wimp so early in the morning. It’s all that thinking and worrying. You don’t have any meetings or anything today, so just cuddle your husband and try to get some more sleep.” Saying this, the blond settled down fully flush against him.

Yuuri’s heart pounded in his chest and his hands flexed as he fought back the insane urge to cuddle him back. “We’re married?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Wolfram lifted his head, raising an eyebrow at the question. His expression was a mix of amusement and concern. “Yuuri…We’re been married for a while now. Are you not feeling well?”

“No!” he cried immediately. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your acting strangely. Forgetting we’re married and not even touching me since you woke up. Normally, you’d be pushing me into the bed by now.” Wolfram broke out into laughter.

Yuuri's eyes widened as his mind frantically raced. No, no, no, no! He was not about to start thinking about them having…doing…."I…It’s too early for that!" he cried out embarrassedly.

Wolfram's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he studied Yuuri. "Oh? Having dirty thoughts are we? I just meant you’d hold me down in a cuddle, but if that’s what you want to do, I’m not about to complain."

Yuuri felt ready to combust on the spot. "No! I... I mean... I don't know what I mean. I just... ugh..."

Wolfram's expression softened, and he pulled Yuuri into a gentle embrace. "Jeez, I’m just kidding. Your memory really is a bit off today, isn’t it? You should probably go see Gisela later.”

Yuuri’s breathing eased and he relaxed back into the mattress. Wolfram’s weight on him was surprisingly pleasant and grounding.

This was his future–their future. He had never thought they would ever actually get married, but looking at that painting and the beautiful peace painted over the real Wolfram’s face, he wondered how he had ever imagined any other future.

He still didn’t feel prepared. Definitely not for pushing anyone into the bed , but maybe he could get there.

Faintly, he could hear that lullaby again.

Yuuri's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest as he found himself back in his own bedroom, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and his breath came in short gasps as he tried to comprehend what he had just experienced. It had to have been just a dream, right? But it felt so real.

And as he caught his breath and removed the nightcap from its perch on his head, he realized it didn’t matter. Whether that was the future or not, it was the future he wanted.

He wanted Wolfram to finally be happy. Not the sort of happy where he had to hold himself back or the sort of happiness where he had to give something up. The sort of happiness where he could just exist without worrying that Yuuri was going to up and leave him or throw him aside for someone else. And Yuuri wanted to bask in that happiness.

Yuuri was happy. Thinking back, he had a lot of happiness in his life. But the happiness that he saw in that painting was unique and foreign. He wanted to curl up in the safe haven that the future Wolfram showed him. The weight of his body on his was comforting in a way Yuuri couldn’t comprehend.

When he had first come to Shin Makoku, he had been terrified by the prospect of holding the lives and well-being of so many people in his hands. Honestly, it was still a bit terrifying. But the thought of holding Wolfram’s and Greta’s that way was different. He wanted to keep them both safe and have them keep him safe in return.

He longed for that future with Wolfram, but did he long for Wolfram himself? Yuuri had always assumed that he was straight, and so far, he had gotten by without any issues.

Well, except for the fiance that had landed on his lap. Sure, Wolfram was pretty, but everyone knew that. And sure, Yuuri’s eyes were always drawn to his exposed skin, but that wasn’t abnormal, was it? Exposed skin was exposed skin.

It wasn’t as if he had been tempted to do anything when future Wolfram suggested sex.

Yuuri’s traitorous fingers flexed at the memory of wanting to hold him. Then, his lips tingled at the memory of their kiss.

Damn it.

He sucked in a breath as uncertainty washed over him. He didn’t have enough to go off of, but he also wouldn’t dare get Wolfram’s hopes up for nothing. It was a positive sign that future him had managed to “stand” to the task, but what if it had only been a dream?

Were there magics that could help with that? Maybe he really should go see Gisela, even if the question itself was enough to make him explode in embarrassment.

At least Wolfram was still asleep beside him and didn’t hear the flustered cry he let out.

Footsteps echoed softly in the hallway of the castle as Yuuri made his way toward Gisela's office, questions and uncertainties swirling in his mind the entire way.

When he finally arrived at Gisela's door, Yuuri took a deep breath to steady himself before knocking gently.

The door swung open, revealing the gentle smile of the healer. "Your Majesty! What brings you here today?" Gisela's kind eyes reflected genuine interest and concern.

Yuuri's voice trembled slightly as he spoke. "Gisela, I... I need your help. I don’t know what to do about my feelings for Wolfram."

Kind as she usually was, Gisela ushered him inside, inviting him to take a seat. "Of course. I'm here to listen and offer guidance. Please, share what's been weighing on your heart."

Yuuri leaned forward, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. "I always thought I was straight, but Wolfram... he's been there for me, supporting me and caring for me. I decided I do want to marry him and make him happy, but…I don’t know if I can."

Gisela nodded in understanding, her gentle presence providing a sense of reassurance. "Feelings can be complex, Your Majesty. They don't always fit neatly into predefined categories. What's important is being true to yourself and exploring your emotions with an open heart."

Yuuri sighed, relieved that his feelings weren’t as strange as they seemed to him. That still didn’t give him any action, though. "But how do I know if I can be attracted to Wolfram? How can I sort through these feelings?"

Gisela's gaze was compassionate. "Self-discovery takes time, Yuuri. It's about exploring your emotions and being honest with yourself. One way to start is by reflecting on how you feel when you imagine a future with Wolfram. Do you feel a sense of joy and warmth? Can you envision a life filled with love and happiness by his side?"

Images of Wolfram's smile, his unwavering loyalty, and moments shared flooded his mind and filled him with renewed longing. "Yes. That’s not the problem. I…don’t know if I can…ugh…have sex with him.

“Oh!” Gisela straightened her spine, doing her best to hide her surprise. “Well, that’s a bit easier to figure out.”

“But I’ve never…I…” Yuuri didn’t want to finish that train of thought, and by Gisela’s expression, he didn’t need to either.

“That’s okay. So, you haven’t even looked at another man that way before?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No way.” Sure, he had admired the physical structure of certain baseball players in the past and felt compelled by a smile or two, but that wasn’t sexual.

Gisela pursed her lips. “Then, what about Wolfram specifically? You two share a bed at night. Have your thoughts ever wandered?”

“Uh…” They definitely had. Nowhere near the point she was probably alluding to, but that was because Yuuri had thoroughly cut them off each time. Wondering what it might feel like to touch over the smooth skin of Wolfram’s shoulder or thigh. And maybe, just maybe, once or twice wondering what it would feel like to kiss his lips.

But that still didn’t mean that he could go through with…all of it.

The healer’s expression contracted. “I can’t help you if you close yourself up.”

“Arg, fine! Yes! But very mild. Pure vanilla.”

She held a hand up, giggling at his phrasing. “Alright, I think I understand. As long as you have had thoughts, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, but…” Yuuri wrung his hands. “I couldn’t bare it if I disappointed Wolfram in the end.”

Gisela sighed. Smiling softly, she placed her hand over his own. “Lord Bielefeld cares for you deeply. I don’t think he is so shallow as to abandon you over something like that. He’s stuck with you so far, has he not?”

The tension in Yuuri’s shoulders eased. “You think so? You can’t just give me some sort of magic Viagra.”

“I don’t know what Viagra is, but I don’t think so. Just take small steps. Communicate openly with him, and allow yourself to be vulnerable. I’m sure you can figure things out together.”

As he left Gisela’s office, he felt a mixture of determination and nervousness swirling within him. He was going to have to discuss things with Wolfram. He knew that Wolfram would be disappointed if he really couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, but he was no longer worried that he would abandon him over it. Still, the prospect of telling him his uncertainty and then truly failing to deliver on the future that he saw felt mortifying.

Nerves still ran through his body when he turned to Wolfram after dinner. “Can we talk in private?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Wolfram eyed him suspiciously but nodded. As if they were on the same wavelength, Wolfram began walking toward their shared bedchamber.

The more privacy for this the better.

Once they entered the private chamber and sat down on the settee Yuuri took a deep breath to gather his courage. “Wolf, I need to tell you something important. You asked me before why I wore that nightcap. It let me see into the future... And in that future, we were married."

Wolfram's eyes widened, a mixture of hope and disbelief washing over his features. "Married? You mean... you actually saw us together?"

Yuuri nodded, his voice filled with a mix of conviction and vulnerability. "Yeah, I saw a life where we were happy, where our love for each other was undeniable. It made me realize how much I really do want to build a future with you."

A flicker of joy danced in Wolfram's eyes, but he sensed a hesitation in Yuuri's words. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Yuuri swallowed hard, his gaze falling to the ground before meeting Wolfram's again. "I'm...not sure if I'm sexually attracted to you or not. I don't want to hurt you."

Wolfram's expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently touch Yuuri's cheek. “Wimp, how can you know until you try?”

“I…uh…” Yuuri stamered.

Wolfram chuckled. “It’s okay, Yuuri. I’m just glad you’re being honest with me. I will keep on loving you no matter what. Besides, physical attraction is only one facet of love, and we can explore that together, at our own pace."

Yuuri's heart swelled at Wolfram's understanding and acceptance. He felt the weight of his worries start to lift. "You're right. Love is more than just physical attraction. It's about the deep bond that has grown between us. I want to be able to explore that connection without rushing or putting pressure on ourselves."

Wolfram's smile was radiant, his voice filled with tenderness. "Yuuri, I'm willing to wait and support you in any way I can. We don’t have to do anything right away unless you want it. All I’ve ever really wanted was to remain by your side and to be wanted."

Yuuri's fears began to melt away, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and determination. He took Wolfram's hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. "I’ve always wanted you, Wolf. I just didn’t realize how much. Thanks, I really appreciate how patient you are with me."

“You only appreciate it?” Wolfram teased.

Yuuri laughed, words tumbling out easier than he ever thought they would. “I love it.”

“It or me?”

“You,” he said leaning in. “You of course.”

To both of their surprise, he kissed his willing fiance. It was tender and tentative, but it was so much better than his first. Curiosity and desire stirred him to actually move his lips this time. The lips were the same, yet this kiss felt like uncharted territory. Warmth spread through Yuuri’s body, heating the most strongly within his chest. Wolfram's lips were soft and yielding, responding to Yuuri's touch with a mixture of surprise and delight. His arms wrapped around Yuuri, pulling him closer, and deepening the kiss.

In that single moment, all doubts and uncertainties faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of rightness.

When they finally pulled apart, a soft gasp escaping their lips, Yuuri found himself staring into Wolfram's eyes. At that moment, Yuuri knew that he would make this work, one way or another. With the taste of Wolfram's lips on his own, he found the courage to step forward.

The future wasn't set in stone, but Yuuri was assured that if he stumbled, Wolfram would be right there to pick him up.