#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?

[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.

[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.”

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[thesecretcornerintheroom]

You didn’t ask me…

Pairing: Jackson Marchettie x black female reader

Warnings: Smut. (18+) Dirty talk, Angst, praise kink.

The plot: You go to a party to get over Jackson but you didn’t know it would be at his house….

Hey y’all long time no see😊 here’s a imagine for y’all I know it’s random but I was inspired this morning to write it.

Now y’all…This one is nasty

Oh my god, you know what's terrible? Have a callus test I didn’t study for said Aimee as she yelled at me with her breath, wreaking off whatever concoction was in the punch. “Right, well, I’m pretty sure you meant calculus, and don’t worry, Mr. Brown, postpone it till Monday,” I said, yelling over the loud music. Mave and Aimee said I have been more distant than usual. This is true between studying, my job after school and trying to forget about him…I’ve been occupied. So they decided to drag me out on a school night to a party, and they also decided to dress me and this dress, oh don’t get me started on the dress. OH Y/N, Mave says, running over giggly, “that guy over there keeps looking at you, and I overheard him say something about you, the dress being well fit.”

Even though those are words every teenager would love to hear at a party, not me, I was forced to come here and listen to music. I’m not particularly eager to tolerate people wreaking liquor, weed, and body fluid poring through their pores. “Lucky me,” I responded cheaply. “You know you got to get out of this rut. I understand you and- before Mave could finish the sentence, I cut her off. “Look, I told you I didn’t wanna come tonight, I told you I wasn’t ready, and the fact that I went to this party knowing it was going to be in his house makes me, even more, the bitter, okay” I said with a snappy and tight voice. Mave looked at me with sadness in her eyes “oh y/n we didn’t even think about that” she said looking at Aimee for a confirmation. “It’s fine, speaking of Calculus,” I told Aimee. “I need to go get something.”

As I make my way upstairs, away from all the drunk bodies and loud music, I feel a calming sensation run over me. I know exactly where I’m going. I’ve been here enough time to know which room is his. “Once u get upstairs, it's the second door down to your right,” was the instructions now engraved in my head. As I approached the door, I expected a lot of things. I expect him to be on the other side cause I haven’t seen him at his party. I expect to go in there and cry from memories that serve my heart no purpose. I also expect the door to be locked cause it is a party happening. But no, as I opened the door, I saw his room in typical shape, not too clean but also not too dirty signifies that someone is living there and using this room. The space was empty, so I decided to be quick about what I would do.

Walking over to his backpack, I picked up his bag, and Doug through it, looking for my Calculus book. I found it in my red notebook with the word I hate math written on top. And his drawing of a smiley face. I let him borrow the notebook two weeks before we split. Now I’m regretting it cause I have to cram and study for a test cause I haven’t asked for the notebook back. As soon as I turned to leave, I heard, “You know you just could’ve asked me, right.” This made me freeze. “I just needed my book to study, and I have nothing to say to you,” I said, trying to walk past him and avoid eye contact. “Nice dress. It’s not your vibe, though, is it?” He said, leaning against the doorway with a calm voice. I wore a long fitted dress that stopped at my ankles, with lace in it, and a slit that stopped mid-thigh. I will admit this dress is charming and did compliment my figure well. It just wasn’t my speed; I preferred sweaters and skirts and loafers. Mave made me wear it, but we comprise, and I put a white short-sleeved top under it.

“Wanted to try something different,” I said, still not looking at him. I feel him staring at me, though, soaking me up for everything that I am. “Y/n can we talk, please,” he said. I snapped my eyes up at him furiously, finally looking him in the face and looking him in the eyes those grayish brown eyes that I’ve looked at a thousand times before. “Talk about what, Jackson,” I say, his name with so much stiffness. I haven’t said his word or looked at him in weeks. When I’m at school, I avoid him and every spot I know he’ll be at.

“We have nothing to talk about. You told me that you needed time for yourself, that you felt like you were moving too fast and didn’t feel well, and how can I be mad at that? At least you were honest, and I understand that the last two years were rough on you, so I get that. So how can I be mad? How? I said words vomiting my feelings, my chest tightening and my voice shaking. I knew it was time to go before I started crying.

“It's okay to be mad at me, y/n” replied. Jackson, “you aren’t perfect, and I’m not perfect, and if this situation were simple, we wouldn’t be arguing right now,” said Jackson. With every word he says, he’s getting closer to me as I stand in the middle of the room, clenching my book for dear life. “I told you I wasn’t ready because I’m not,” he said with a quick breath. “Because when I still have these panic attacks, and I still find myself wanting to be isolated when it all becomes too much, so I’m not ready for someone like you who is strong and patient and willing. It would be wrong of me to ask you to endure that with me,” Jackson said, searching your eyes with his glossed over, hoping you would understand, and you know Jackson better than most. “The problem is you didn’t even ask me,” said y/n knowing that those words were as robust and one of the scariest things she could say. She was saying that she would take on his heartaches, and his burdens, while also being there to support him through his happiness and his celebrations.

Before y/n could even process the emotions she saw on his face, she felt a hand meet the back of her head, and his soft lips touched her. He was kissing her so softly, like he was afraid she would run away from her. But y/n had more to fear at this moment. She knew Jackson felt more scared than ever. Right now Jackson was like Bambi. He felt small and skittish. So y/n grabbed his wrist and kissed him back deeply. The kiss was soft and strategic, and they poured confirmations into each other without saying anything. Before she knew it, y/n panties were on the floor her dress was rising as the back of her knees connected with Jackson's bed. Jackson was now on top of y/n, taking his hands from her knee to her hip and bunging her dress up to her hips.

“Y/n,” Jackson said, nipping at her neck and hearing a moan release from Y/n. “Jackson,” she moaned as she felt everything around her slowly becoming undone. Her dress was now scrunched up on her hips her shirt and bra were somehow removed. “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson”where all that she thought could, which was linger his name as she felt herself come undone like a button. Her core was getting wetter and wetter and was throbbing. Her dress now not covering anything on her body but her waist and her breast exposed to the air in his room. Jackson stood up and undressed himself. At that moment, all y/n could do was admire him. How beautiful and rigid he looked and soft all at the same time. Once fully undressed, y/n grabbed him and pulled him back onto the bed. He spoke No words, but Jackson knew what he wanted to do. He put her on her back and connected his hips to her nipple while teasing her fold with his thumbs. He moved his finger to her clit. He wasted no time running it back and forth. This ignited something in y/n, making her gasp and arch her back while she had one of her hands grabbing his hair and the other one holding the sheets.

“Don’t hold back on me, okay” he said with his voice a little rougher than usual. He starts to finger her, not wasting any time spoiling her and her cunt. Going in and out of her making her body tense up. Y/n could feel herself being invaded, her wetness pooling onto his hands, the stickiness between her thighs. She couldn’t help but moan. Uh, she moaned, grabbing his wrist and making him go deeper she could feel his fingers inside her, his knuckle grazing the outer side and his finger curving to her insides. Oh fuck please she said, her hips tensing up. While her hand held his wrist, helping him with the motion, she enjoyed it so much. Jackson was in awe. He loved seeing her fuck herself by using him. His dick was hard against the bed, but he could wait cause this wasn’t about him right now.

Curving his two fingers just a Lil more, she moved his wrist faster. He felt her jerk. He grazed it, that spot. Before he knew it, he grabbed his wrist with his other hand and pinned it down, and started to go back and forth, hitting that spot. From his view, it was Lovely seeing her cunt swell and her getting wetter and the build-up of her cum on her thighs and it dripping from her. He was in absolute paradise. “Oh fuck please she said, her mouth gapped open, her hips spasming while her legs were wide open for him. As y/n felt herself coming undone again. She felt the feeling building in her core. “Let it go, my love,” Jackson said as he started to suck on your clit while fingering you. Your body was in overdrive now and was sensitive. You jerked at the feeling. “Oh fuck” you said. Jackson held you down with one hand on your lower stomach. You don’t know precisely what it did. You don’t know if it was the fingers, the sucking, or the pressure, but you came. The release left your body, and you were shaking.

As Jackson rose from his position, his chin glistened and his dick hard panting. “Here, let me help you get yourself back together he said, trying to find your bra. Over…this isn’t over. It’s his turn now. You suddenly realize that you are still in his house, and a party is still going on downstairs with over 100 occupied bodies. Even though you were weak, your body was eating the high. You crawled to the edge of the bed and said, turning to grab his dick, causing Jackson to moan, “Y/n wait” Before you could register, you stopped. “Are you sure your body has been through a lot and”-Fuck that You thought, grabbing his dick and licking his head made Jackson's knees buckle.

As you took him in, as far as you could, you started to play with his balls. You noticed that Jackson now had his hands on your shoulder, squeezing them tightly as you sat on the edge of the bed. You look up to see him with his head back, Addams apple Bobbing. Realsing my mouth from his base, I tasted the salty pre-crum swelling at the head. I worked my way down to his balls and licked and teased them as my hand grabbed his base, and my wrist engaged in the motion, causing his body to cleanse and his grip on my should to tighten. This made me giggle. I grabbed his hands and put them on the back of my head. Jackson looked down at me and shook my head. He held his dick and placed it on my lips, waiting for me to open my mouth.

As I opened my mouth, I felt his hand grab the back of my head and push me down slowly. As I look up, he’s looking at me in all my glory, titties out, mouth stuffed, and my lips moving back and forth on his shaft. He let out a strangled moan “shit, y/n, we can’t be up here all night,” he said breathlessly. His statement made me suck harder cause, yes, we can. His eye snapped open, and his hand started moving my head faster. I feel his vein throbbing on my challenging I see his stomach tightening. The saliva and pre cum are all over his dick, glistening. As he moves his hips in my mouth, words and moans fall from his lips. “You make me feel so good, and I’m sorry for- the words were interrupted by a deep and rough moan due to me playing with his balls and sucking harder. I don’t want to hear any sorry I want you to come undone.

His hip where now moving erratically, his hip moving more sloppily now his dick was wet and covered and cum, and the vein that was throbbing on my tongue was now realizing the salty/sweet taste in my mouth and down my throat. His dick left my mouth with a pop. And his body flopped on the bed. He was lying beside me, breathless, tired. I laid back on the bed beside him and looked at the ceiling, and said, “I know you're sorry, but when I said that your pain is my pain as well as your joys and pleasures, I meant that” as I turned to him on the bed looking him in his eyes, his eyes low and his breathing slowed. “ I forgive you,” I said, looking into his eyes, making sure he understood me. “Now,” I said, standing up, fixing my dress, disregarding my undergarments, and placing the dress back on me nicely while checking myself in the mirror and throwing Jackson his underwear. “Let’s get back to the party.”

[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.

[mamamittens]

Hi hi! It's me! So I heard about your date night. Was hoping I could make a request. If it's not too much trouble, could I get a chocolate toffee... candy corn with.... an alcohol. A shot of hot damn and Pink shnapps for Portgas D. Ace and a shot of White Russian for myself. I'm F! With short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and semi-tan skin, I prefer to dress in Lolita (I don't currently have the money but if I could do Lolita in the date night I would appreciate it). I'd really like to go by Astra. I'm pretty chill but I enjoy light teasing banter, when I'm nervous I tend to laugh slightly and fidget, I also have a tendency to be kind of flirty, sometimes without meaning to which then sometimes makes me nervous cause I'm afraid of their reaction.

P.s. no pressure but if possible could you post it on the 12th? That's my birthday. You don't have to, just, you know, if you’re not overwhelmed or anything. I turn 32!

Happy birthday! Hopefully it’s actually the 12th for you too, lol.

Hope you have fun on your date~

Date Night Event!

Warnings: One sided enemies to lovers (Ace still has issues about himself even in a modern AU), lap ride, praise kink (pretty boy and pretty baby used most often), submissive Ace, couch sex, and creampie.

Word Count: 2,594

There was something to be said about taking bets he could ill-afford to lose.

Ace scowled at the little white house from atop his motorcycle. He didn’t want to do this at all. He had no idea why his brother thought this was a good idea—no actually, he knew that Sabo thought it would be funny. Hardly a good idea though. From day one Astra and himself have had an… interesting relationship. He thought she was kind of cute at first. Lacy dresses and pretty ribbons like a doll.

But Ace felt like a damn grease monkey next to her every time she came around. His hands felt perpetually dirty compared to her and the faux-sheepish way she acted let him know that she knew it too. Every insult was paid in turn with a sly smile that only riled him up more. The flirts were the worst of it though, cause he knew she didn’t mean a damn thing by it—and his heart raced every time anyway.

Supposedly, this little ‘date’ would help break the tension. Sabo liked his little friend and wanted his brother to like her too. But Ace couldn’t help but bare his teeth and grimace every time she came up in casual conversation. How Sabo got Astra to agree to any date, let alone at her house with just the two of them, Ace had no fucking idea.

But… he was here now. And he knew Astra had heard him, her blinds moving slightly as he pulled up. If he turned tail and ran now, he’d never hear the end of it.

Ace dismounted his bike, pocketing the keys as he reflexively wiped his hands on his nice jeans. Well, the nicest pair he owned. Only a little bit of an oil stain on the hem. He still grimaced when he went to knock on the door. His tan skin looked dirty compared to the clean, white paint. He half expected to leave a smudge and was only a little disappointed that he didn’t. It would serve her right to have a bit of dirt rubbed on the picturesque image of her home.

The door opened, Astra greeting him with a smile. Pale blue sweater lined with lace draped over her frame.

“Hey there, glad you could make it!” She lied, stepping aside to let him in. Ace huffed, the soft scent of clean laundry and something floral wafting over him. “Feel free to pick a movie while I get the takeout menus. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I haven’t ordered anything yet.” Astra explained, as though she didn’t know that he would eat just about anything put in front of him.

Huffing, Ace set down his helmet and looked at the bookcase with a wide array of movies. He skipped over the romance titles, as well as the dramas and horror series. He’d rather distract himself with an action movie than risk giving the wrong impression that he was here for anything other than a favor to his brother. He ended up picking a half-decent action-adventure flick about some sort of treasure hunter. The obligatory advertisements before the main menu had started playing before Astra came in with a bundle of takeout menus.

Ace wordlessly accepted the bundle and leafed through them. There was a pretty good variety and it actually kind of surprised him. He sort of thought she’d be the type to cook, pretty well-made meals that would make him feel like he was in a commercial. But no. As it turns out, Astra was a bit more like the average mortal than he assumed. Sure, there were several healthy food options, but her cute face could hardly be sustained on just greasy takeout alone.

He pulled out a Chinese restaurant menu and slapped it down onto the coffee table.

“This sounds good.” Astra hummed, picking it up and looking over it.

“Good pick! They always give me extra dumplings when I order, so they’re not stingy at all.” Astra grinned, pulling out her phone to order after Ace gave her his request. “They’ll be about twenty minutes!”

Astra turned off the light and started the movie, flopping down onto the couch with Ace as the cinematic score started up. Ace sat there, stiff as a board. Viscerally aware that he could feel her body heat near him. Light perfume tickled his nose as he tried to not think about it. He failed, obviously. Her house was clean but lived in, a far cry from his cluttered, messy apartment. He felt vaguely worried that he’d see a dirt imprint when he gets off the couch.

The arrival of food was a welcome distraction—right up until he worried about making a mess. What was worse, getting reamed for staining the couch with curry sauce or being made fun of for shoveling the whole thing into his mouth?

A soft weight leaned against his side and he startled.

Astra was reclining against him, scooping up noodles with her chopsticks without caring about the sauce. Cautiously, Ace stopped worrying and worked through his food. As she had stated, they were generous with their portions. Somewhere between the noodles and picking out chicken Ace had relaxed into the couch cushions. The obligatory third act fight well on it’s way as they set their empty boxes down. Astra tucked underneath his arm as she wrapped hers around his waist with a happy sigh.

As the credits rolled, Astra shifted against him.

“This was nice. I always thought you looked warm.” She mused. Ace paused, looking down at her in confusion. “Want to put on another one?”

“… I thought you’d want me out of here already.” Ace stated. Astra looked at him, soft brown eyes confused in the dim light of the end credits.

“Why? You’re good company.”

Ace felt floored. What an odd thing to say when he knew he’d been leaving smudges of dirt all over her clean house.

“I know I’m too filthy to be in here.” Ace said.

“What the hell are you talking about, Ace?” Astra asked, sitting up to look at him. Ace’s face grew hot as he looked away, waving his hands vaguely.

“You don’t need to pretend, doll. I work with engines all day. I know my clothes are stained with oil and my hands leave grease smears everywhere.” Ace rolled his eyes, “And I know you’d hate your nice dresses getting dirtied up just being near me.”

“…Since when have I cared about that? I know how to wash my clothes, Ace. A little extra laundry sauce is well worth spending time with you.” Astra informed him, much to Ace’s disbelief.

“Doll, you don’t have to lie to me because you’re friends with my brother. I know better than to touch pretty things without cause.” Astra wrinkled her nose.

“With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder you never feel clean enough.” Astra said, throwing her leg over his lap and sitting. Ace’s breath froze in his lungs, his hands twitching as he didn’t know where to put them. But Astra had no such difficulties, her hands trailing up his chest and to his neck, tipping his head back as she leaned into his space further. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, her words brushing over his lips.

“C-Course I do, doll.” Ace mumbled, face red as she hovered over him, eyes locked with his. His hands found themselves at her hips, bunching up the soft cashmere of her sweater without thought. “T-Too pretty to be sitting on my lap like this.”

“I don’t know, Ace. You’re looking pretty cute from where I’m sitting. A little grease isn’t going to scare me off. Unless you’d rather I not be here? I can move but…”

“But?” Ace whispered, his heart pounding in his chest as his cock began to ache.

Astra leaned in closer, almost brushing his lips as she spoke, soft curves pressed against his body.

“I’ve wanted to kiss your cute face since we first met. Every freckle and scar. Think I could, Ace?” Astra whispered back.

Ace whined, clutching her sweater as he lifted his head up, smashing his lips against hers. She held his face between her soft hands as her tongue swept into his mouth. Ace moaned as he chased the taste of orange chicken and something sweeter—something uniquely her. His grip fixed onto her waist, grinding her against his lap as he was rewarded with a soft moan.

“A-Astra…” Ace panted as she pulled back for air.

“Do you want more, pretty boy?” Ace blushed, whining as he ducked his head against her soft neck. Shyly pressing wet kisses and nips to her skin. She swiveled her hips down against his erection freely, her hands running up and down his sides as she slowly pulled up his shirt. Her nails lightly tracing his abs until her palms met his chest. Panting for air, he pulled away to rip his shirt off.

His eagerness rewarded when she tossed away her sweater. A lacy, silk camisole covering her bare breasts.

The possibility of smearing dirt on her clothes the furthest thing from his mind as he pressed his wet tongue over her stiff nipple. Damp silk catching on his canines as she moaned for him. Her hands caressing his shoulders and running through his hair. He pulled away reluctantly, blowing across the wet fabric with a heady chuckle as she jerked against him.

“Callin’ me pretty when you look like sugar and cream.” Ace huffed, pulling down her camisole to nip at her stiff peak. “Stop lying to me, doll.”

“No, no, no baby~! I’m not lying at all. Look at your pretty face. Those gorgeous eyes. I can’t think when you walk around without a shirt on.” Astra praised him, pulling back his hair so he’d look her in the eyes as she pressed her breasts up against his chin. “So sweet for me, pretty boy. I need you to touch me. Won’t you touch me, pretty boy?” Astra asked of him.

Ace’s hands were already making their way to her thighs. Fondling the curve of her ass as he gently pulled down her tights. The sheer, white fabric almost ripping under his careful, desperate motions. Ace grit his teeth and hissed as he fucked up and tore it anyway. Lace panties evident under his fingertips as he pressed up against a thin, damp strip of fabric.

“S-Shut up~!” Ace huffed, pulling the lace aside and finding his fingers drenched. Sliding into her cute pussy without effort despite the tight squeeze. Astra moaned, squeezing him closer as Ace dipped his chin lower to kiss her breasts. “N-Not pretty or cute. How can you say that when your tits are right here? Your pussy drenching my hand? I-I shouldn’t be here—fuck you’re so soft—” Ace cursed. Astra moaned, bouncing against his hand as he marked her chest.

“W-Want you here! Right here, Ace. My pretty boy, let me ride you please~!” Astra moaned, pulling his hair back to kiss him feverishly.

Ace whined when she raised her ass up, ripping his hand free of her cunt as she blindly reached down for his jeans. Like an addict, Ace kept fondling her wet pussy and thigh as she freed his cock. Groaning as she reached for his wet hand and made him fist his dick. Spreading her arousal across it, guided by her soft hand as she sank down. The leaking tip drenched as it pressed against her pussy.

Ace threw back his had with a harsh whimper as she sank down onto his cock. Sopping wet cunt throttling every inch until her ass met his thighs. His eyes squeezed shut as he panted for air, body tense and stiff as a rock. Then she pulled up, a pathetic whine leaving his chest as he struggled not to cum. The head of his cock almost slipped out and he desperately latched onto her hips, yanking her back down firmly onto his lap.

They both cried out, shuddering against each other as he settled in her body. Cunt struggling to hold onto his thick cock.

And despite feeling like heaven and hell wrapped around his cock, she just kept talking.

“H-Hot! You feel so hot, Aaaccee~!”

“Let me hear you again, pretty boy. You sound so cute when you whimpered.”

“No, no tears pretty boy, I’m not going anywhere. Wouldn’t leave you for anything pretty baby.” Astra cooed against his lips as she rode him. Licking and kissing him as he whined, hips jolting up with every damn nickname she gave him.

“N-Not a pretty boy~!” Ace denied, receiving only a soft chuckle and a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah you are~ Pretty boys get free rides… do you want me to stop?” Astra asked gently, pulling off his cock. Ace’s blood froze at the suggestion.

Her body was torture. Soft and sweet all over… and he never wanted it to end. Ace shook his head frantically, gripping her hips and pulling down unsuccessfully.

“But you’re not a pretty boy, Ace. You said so. My pretty baby could have this all day…” Astra teased. Ace blinked back tears, knot tangled up in his chest and balls as his head swam. She sank down finally, sitting firmly on his cock as she leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Are you my pretty baby, Ace?”

“YES! Yes! I-I’m—I’m your pretty baby~!” Ace broke, almost sobbing as she started bouncing on his cock again. “I-I’m pretty! S-S-Sooooo pretty for you, d-doll~!” Ace cried out desperately, tears falling as he hurtled towards the edge.

It hurt like hell.

It felt like sin.

It felt so fucking right to be her ‘pretty boy’.

Truth or a lie, it didn’t matter. She wanted him.

And his cock throbbed as he came with a broken sob, her pace slowing down to grind against his lap. Ace’s thighs trembled as he flexed his hips, bouncing her on his cock as he reached down and rubbed her clit. Desperate to show her that he was worth being her pretty boy.

“A-Ace! Ace! O-Oh p-pretty baby yeah, so good for me, baby~!” Astra chanted, pussy clenching down on him as she trembled. Squirting on his cock and probably ruining her couch.

But Ace didn’t care.

He only had eyes for Astra, panting and sweating, tan skin marked with bruises and smears of grease.

Ace panted, holding her firmly onto his lap still as he finished pouring into her quivering pussy. Astra moaned, wobbling in place before falling forward against his chest. Raining kisses across his filthy skin. As rubbed his hands across her slick skin with a dizzy smile, kissing her soft brown hair.

Slowly, she started rocking against him again. His cock stirring in a lewd mix of their cum as it dripped down his balls and thighs.

“A-Again, doll?” Ace asked breathlessly. Astra lifted her head and kissed under his chin.

“Yeah, pretty boy. You deserve a reward.” Ace didn’t know what the hell he could have done, but any questions he had were silenced as her lips pressed against his, her waist rocking against his grip.

He wasn’t totally sold on this whole ‘pretty boy’ business. But if it means he gets to taste and hold Astra’s sweet body… he’s willing to hear her out.

If she doesn’t change her mind in the morning after seeing the state of her couch, Ace didn’t mind being her pretty boy.

[mugenloopdalove]

As always, bedtime came in the early morning for the Pinstripe and Summer. The night had been spent working even well after the casino closed, and the two were more than ready to tucker in for a few hours before getting right back to business. Well, after over an hour of beauty routines of course. Summer was last to be ready, and walked gracefully out the bathroom. They headed straight to the bed and sat on the edge. Just as their usual routine went, Summer sat and looked pretty while Pinstripe carefully brushed her tail. Once he was done, Summer turned around and pulled himself in Pinstripe’s lap, giggling as he got as cutely flustered as he always did.

“You’re as shy as ever, handsome,” Summer teased, shifting a bit to show off their body more. She was nothing if not confident. “How many times have we been like this now? I’m surprised you’re not used to it at this point.”

“Youse the one always lookin’ so pretty… In those little dresses… They look so pretty on youse really…” Pinstripe seemed… distracted. It was easy for Summer to detect when something was on his mind.

They pouted a bit and held his face. “Peanut? Something wrong? You’re not thinking too hard about business are you?”

“No, no, not business…” Pinstripe’s fingers lingered on the lace at the bottom of Summer’s dress. “Just… was thinkin’... youse always out there makin’ pretty dresses and stuff seem fun… But I dunno…”

A spark lit in Summer’s eyes and he smiled fondly, giving Pinstripe a quick kiss. “Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed by!”

“I-I mean… I could never keep up with your beauty…” Pinstripe said, fidgeting nervously.

Summer laughed a bit. “I mean, no one can… but you know… If I called my tailor and arranged things… You’d come pretty damn close.” They said the last words gently and smiled as they watched Pinstripe melt. “What do you want? A gown? A cocktail dress?”

“One of these little silk pieces would be nice…”

The thought made Summer hum and wiggle closer. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist you in one of those, beautiful.”

“And if that’s the point?”

The two laughed as Summer tackled him onto the bed, giggles dissolving into kisses as they cuddled up together.

At first the appointments flustered Pinstripe a bit, he seemed to expect more of a suit fitting than what he got, but he adjusted and seemed to have a lot of fun with it. Only one thing troubled Summer. They weren’t allowed to see any of the dresses he tried on. They didn’t care if it was supposed to be a special surprise, they wanted to see him now! But no matter how much they huffed and puffed and flashed cleavage, he wouldn’t budge. They respected his privacy of course but damnit, waiting was hard.

But the day came where the waiting paid off. Pinstripe was ready, and Summer could not contain their anticipation. They made themself look extra pretty for the day, anticipating their love to be a billion times more beautiful.

The master bathroom door connecting it to the bedroom was untraditionally closed, and Summer patiently but anxiously waited for their cue to come in and behold the sight they’d been waiting for for weeks now.

“G-go ahead and come in now…” The hesitation in Pinstripe’s voice told Summer to wait a second, but when she didn't hear him rescind the offer, she walked through the door.

It was better than she could have imagined. There he was, standing nervously in front of them, looking like what could only be described as an angel. His hair was down for once, and the sleeveless, semi-sheer black silk piece was flawless on him, and it wasn’t just the tailor’s work. The thigh-high tights held up but garters only made it better. He looked so truly, genuinely, “Beautiful…”

The words fell off Summer’s lips without them realizing, but Pinstripe perked up from his previously shy position and smiled a bit. “R…really…?” He asked, almost looking like a puppy.

Summer smiled sincerely and went to him, happy with how their compliment was received. “Yes. You are so beautiful. More beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen.” They whispered as they pulled him close. “Have you looked at yourself?”

Pinstripe shook his head. “Wanted my princess to be the first to see me. A…after the tailor, I guess…”

“I forgive you since this was worth the wait.” Summer said. “But, I do want you to see yourself. Is that okay?” They didn’t want to force it if he wouldn’t like what he saw. Even if he was beautiful to them, it was a pretty big change from how he usually looked.

“I…am pretty curious, ‘specially if youse say I’m that pretty.” The word pretty seemed to linger for him, like it was the greatest praise he’d ever been given.

With a nod, Summer led Pinstripe to one of the mirrors in the room, careful watching his response. At first, the shock told them he hated it, but he slowly relaxed, started to sway happily as he looked at his reflection. “I really am beautiful aren’t I?”

“Of course you are, my love.” Summer wrapped their arms around him and swayed with him. “LIke a queen… Or a goddess…”

The words just seem to make Pinstripe even giddier, and he laughed a bit as he looked at his reflection. “Goddess… I… I think I likes the sound of that…”

Summer smiled fondly and gave him a small kiss. “Good, because now that I know you like it, I will call you it a million times over.”

[merryfortune]

(I’m Not) Scared of Dancing in the Dark

Written for Femslash February 2023

Prompt: Dark

Title: (I'm not) Scared of Dancing in the Dark

Ship: Eriko/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good Pretty Cure

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,988

Tags: Established Relationship, LGBTQ Themes

   “So how about it?” Hinata asked over text. “Do you want to come with?”

   Eriko stared at her phone. The invitation did look nicely presented, even if it did come in the form of a CureBook link and CureBook was so lame these days. The poster was glossy and corporate, mostly blue in the colour palette with anime style drawings on it to visualise the dance floor and that sort of thing. In the middle of it, bold lettering, it listed the who, what, when, and where of the party that Hinata was inviting her to.

   “It’ll be, like, totally safe.” Hinata added after a moment passed and Eriko hadn’t replied yet. “All chaperoned and stuff.”

   Obviously, Eriko wanted to reply to Hinata. It was a blue light disco at a youth club down in the main part of Sukoyaka, it couldn’t have been safer in theory but even so. Eriko felt her stomach stir in a very bad way. 

   “I’ll have to ask my parents.” Eriko finally texted back, diplomatically.

   She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to go or not. She was kind of, really hoping that her parents would say no and that’d make saying no to Hinata so much easier because she didn’t have an excuse. She had a boundary set by her parents that she had to respect.

   It was so out of the way, after all. Six PM on a Saturday, in the next town over. Surely it would be too much of a hassle for her parents to go through just for, like, three hours worth of a dweeby teen party at a youth club.

   But... Apparently not.

   In fact, her parents thought it was a great idea. Especially now that she was friends with Hinata again. They used to be so close. Such a good friends. They were really happy that she and Hinata had mended up over the lost time and lost connection. It was really, truly great that they were best friends.

   Heh. Yeah. Best friends.

   Try… girlfriends.

   Okay, well, not really. Eriko would be mortified to say that word aloud. She wasn’t like Hinata. She wasn’t born always knowing and happy enough with that with really, super accepting parents. Eriko wasn’t even sure if she was accepting of herself and her own sexuality.

   Her parents were… fine about that sort of thing. They would vote to allow same-sex marriage but anything beyond that, they didn’t really get. Like her Mum didn’t get the whole transgender or gender X thing, for example, and her Dad had really come around the bend for the most part ever since he found a respected coworker was gay. 

   So it seemed probable that they would accept her for being a lesbian, she didn’t feel unsafe or anything, and loved them both dearly but at fifteen years old... Eriko just was not ready to test the waters just yet. She wanted to come out when she felt completely and wholly certain about her own identity and all the baggage that would come with it.

   Even if she did already have a long distance girlfriend on the downlow. 

   One she was even getting all dolled up to see in an hour and a half’s time. She put on a modest white dress with spaghetti straps and a skirt that fluttered with lace when she spun with strappy dancing shoes to match. Nothing that would give her blisters later on or be too smutty for the boys, her mother made her promise. Eriko adhered to it as she chose gold bangles and earrings, too.

   She sat in the back of the car, more excited than she had been expecting to be. Eriko guessed it was because she was all dressed up with somewhere to go, for once. It was a quiet excitement that once again settled in her stomach but when they finally arrived at the Sukoyaka City Youth Club, it erupted all up through Eriko, especially when she laid eyes on Hinata.

   Hinata flagged her and her family’s car down from the kerbside. It was still pretty light out but also kind of dusky with orangey-purple hues hiding behind the city skyline. Hinata was wearing all sorts of chunky and obnoxious bead necklaces to complement a patternless and floaty yellow shirt and her distressed, dark blue jeans. She bounced on her heel and was super excited to see Eriko.

   Eriko hadn’t even closed the back door before Hinata bear-hugged her. She snuggled her and dragged her closer to the kerbside. Eriko’s Mum got out of the car and laughed.

   “You’d think you hadn’t seen each other in years,” she joked, “we’ll pick you up here at nine o’clock, okay, sweetie.”

   “Okay, Mum.” Eriko replied in that very teenager cadence which meant no harm but still sounded condescending. 

   “And there had better be no boys.” her Dad added from the driver’s seat.

   “Not a problem, sir,” Hinata giggled, “it’ll just be me, Eriko, and my friends Chiyu-chi and Nodo-chi, we’ll be together at all times, promise.”

   “Have fun, girls.” Eriko’s Mum said before she got back into the car.

   Eriko waved her parents off. They were going on a date of her own and she was really glad that they hadn’t mentioned that as that would have been super embarrassing in front of Hinata but once they were gone. So was that initial excitement that Eriko was feeling.

   She had come. She had seen. She would really like to go already but there was no way that she could tell Hinata that as the fun had only just begun.

   They linked up with Chiyu and Nodoka who were inside already, staking out some place on the edge of the dancefloor for them to sit and keep their stuff. They welcomed Eriko warmly but she always felt awkward. She was Hinata’s friend even though Hinata had been her friend first. Not to mention the whole secret pact of superheroism thing they all had going on. Not that Eriko would mention that, nor was she even meant to know but they weren’t exactly subtle and had saved her bacon before.

   The first half an hour or so, probably more, of the party wasn’t exactly exciting. People were still coming in and arriving, there were announcements on a speaker about the rules for the night. That sort of thing but even after that, things didn’t really pick up.

   For Eriko at least.

   The other girls were having fun and it just made her feel like she was intruding all the more. Even if she was Hinata’s closeted girlfriend and yes, they knew and were really sweet and caring about it but Eriko was still, ultimately, being a wet blanket outside of that. The music was pumping out the top forty hits from both here and even America which was kind of cool and the small snacks and light refreshments were fine but Eriko really wasn’t in the mood.

   Even as she watched the party unfold. People were laughing and dancing and she really wanted to be up on that dance floor with Hinata, as well as Chiyu and Nodoka, but she felt cemented to the plastic chair that she was sitting on. She was pretending she was just minding the other girls’ handbags, as well as her own, but it was also incredibly obvious that she was miserable.

   It was at a quarter past seven or so that Hinata had finally decided to sit down with Eriko since Eriko was the person she had spent the least amount of time with here at the party. She sat down on the chair next to Eriko’s and sprawled out over the table.

   “Are you okay? Are you feelin’ good?” Hinata asked.

   “Yeah, I’m totally fine, I’m just… not feeling it, tonight.” Eriko said. 

   “Should we call your parents so you can pack it? Maybe the trip here tuckered you out.” Hinata suggested.

   “No, Hinata, it's not that.” Eriko said, frowning and frustrated. Deep down, she knew that Hinata was never going to get it, being so free and casual with her own sexuality. It made Eriko both jealous and furious. “It's just. I don’t… I really want to dance with you and have a good time but…”

   “But?” Hinata prompted her.

   Eriko took a breath, “But does that out me? I don’t want all these people to know about me. But some of them do. I feel like a stranger here but this is my hometown. It's really confusing and…”

   “And it's fine.” Hinata said and she sat up a little straighter, her arms receding from over the table. She looked over her shoulder, at Chiyu and Nodoka who were dancing very daggy dad type dances, “You’ll blend in, trust me.”

   That was… That was probably true, Eriko conceded, at least to herself. She chewed her bottom lip. Even though something like this, though a little nerdy given the decorations, was totally her scene. She loved music, she loved fashion, she loved being out and about and dancing, she was being a wet blanket.

   Hinata extended her hand to Eriko, “There are so many people here, everyone’s dancing with everyone else so… will you dance with me?”

   “I’d like that.” Eriko said and though it was scary to her, she felt awful in her stomach because of it and as though every eye was on her, she slid her own hand into the palm of Hinata’s.

   Hinata’s hand was soft and felt like a perfect match to her own. With that token of acceptance, Hinata’s face split into a grin. She practically raced to drag Eriko onto the dancefloor and though Eriko did drag behind her, she was glad to finally be up and on it.

   In the dark. In the strobing lights that flashed every which way in quick, laser-like successions of every colour of the rainbow. It was disorienting and at their feet, there was a mist from a smoke machine off to the side that was hazy and ticklist. The dance floor, which was a basketball court by day, pounded with everyone’s dancing shoes and the good time that they were having.

   So, in the end, Hinata was right. Everyone was dancing with each other, with everyone else. She would blend in. There was too much going on as the music blared and the crowd roared for one person to simply be the main focus.

   Hinata laughed and Eriko squealed as Hinata spun her around. Together, they jingled and they jangled with all their accessories as they danced. Chiyu and Nodoka danced to the side of them, close enough to hide but far away enough that Eriko was comfortable to say she was dancing exclusively with her girlfriend. The song on the speaker changed soon enough and Hinata’s eyes lit up in the dark.

   “Oh my gosh,” she squealed, “it's our song.”

   “It is, too.” Eriko replied, just as excited and even loud.

   The music was familiar and saccharine. Eriko’s heart pounded and in a messy, moshpit duet, she and Hinata yelled out the words to the song as their hands intertwined and they spun and twirled and danced among the crowd, bumping into people but not apologising because they were just so off in their own little world. It was the absolute best, Eriko was grinning.

   Deep down, though, beneath the roar of the music and the pace of the dance and the fizz of euphoria of finally getting to enjoy herself, Eriko knew that dancing with Hinata didn’t make anything else not scary. Whether it was about being on a date with her girlfriend publicly or coming out to her parents or any other number of things which weren’t important to this moment in time, right now… It was the most fun that Eriko had had all night and she had a rising feeling that it was only going to go up from here, finally.

[ink-tank]

The Prospero Praxis

All eyes are on me as I hit the catwalk. That's not an exaggeration; it's a fact, as recorded by the optical implants of everyone in the nightclub, and displayed in graphical format in my peripheral vision.

The music's a steady 126bpm. My form-hugging minidress pulses from steel-grey to burnished gold, more vivid with every electronic beat. I'm half way down the runway when the chorus starts and the synthsoprano soars to a note that no unenhanced Earthling could ever achieve. My dress unfolds like impossible origami into a floor-length gown, horizontal bands of every colour spiralling upward from the hem to the halterneck.

Category is: wired straight into your optic nerve. Digitally-enhanced extravaganza. Final round of judging. Head to head.

On the parallel runway is Shader Lovelace. Her name's a carcrash of puns that probably doesn't mean much to the crowd of mostly young, mostly gay, mostly basic Earthlings and Uranians. She's wearing a silver kimono. Pretty simple, but the fabric moves uncannily, like she's submerged in water or dancing in zero-gravity. It's a nice little effect, and the pie chart in my heads-up display registers that she's stealing the attention of the audience. The eyes of the people filling the space between us are turning towards her. Away from me.

But when I reach the end of the runway my transformation is complete, and I'm a living pride flag. One thing I've learned from walking in countless competitions like this: stick a rainbow on it, and they eat it up. Pandering, moi?

I glance down, expecting to see two thumbs-up in front of a darling bowtie and a corporate-slick haircut, but Felix isn't where he promised to be. He's not at the bar either, making sure that there's a bottle of something fizzy ready to celebrate my win. He's not even in the section cordoned off for the digital phantoms of sick and housebound people who couldn't make it to the club in person.

The beat drops and the brassy bass roars, but I'm searching the room and miss the moment.

Shader Lovelace doesn't. She dips right on cue. Leaps high and lands flat on her back. Her kimono shatters like glass. She's on the ground, writhing erotically in her underwear. Shards of pseudo-mirror bounce up then hang in the air like someone pressed pause.

No, not pseudo-mirror: a realtime mirror effect. I catch a glimpse of my own astonished face reflected back across the room. The amount of processing power it must be taking is nothing short of opulent.

She hits a perfect one-hundred percent on the graph.

I activate my own showstopper moment, reaching out my arms and spinning on the spot. The rainbow bands unfurl like tentacles, which pixelate at their extremities and become beams of concentrated prismatic light. But I've blown the spot. I'm too late, and off the beat, and the graph doesn't lie when it says that nobody's watching.

Her mirrors twinkle in my reflected rainbow lights.

She kips up onto stiletto heels, which isn't even a digital effect. The bass thunders as the song reaches its climax. My rainbow weaves and plaits itself into my pouf, but I know when I'm defeated. I'm supposed to be the best digital couturier in the House of Aphrodite, and I'm being laced at our own pageant in our own nightclub. It wasn't meant to go like this.

The music stops. The club echoes with applause, but it feels like it's all directed at Shader.

Mother, sitting at the centre of the row of judges at the back of the stage, holds up her hand. The crowd falls obediently silent. She's Venus Aphrodite, mother of the House of Aphrodite, and in this club she is the undisputed monocrat in a fuchsia gown and ruff collar. She shoots me a benign, disappointed glance, but it's entirely too much like a look my actual mother might give, and I instinctively lower my eyes. Under the oppressive heat of the spotlights, a bead of sweat works its way from my wigline down my forehead.

“Shader Lovelace of the House of Hack,” says Mother, “as the visiting queen you are judged first. Your kimono shattered just like the mirror I made the mistake of glancing in before putting on my makeup this morning. That's seven years of bad luck for me, but for you it only brought good fortune. You get a ten.”

One of the other judges follows suit, and Shader pantomimes being all humble and surprised. The third judge awards her an eight-point-five, and Shader gives a cute little shrug, like what are you gonna do?  It's not much, but that 8.5 is a narrow window. If I could score a couple of perfect tens, I could still be in the game. It's a faint sparkle of hope.

“Hero of the House of Aphrodite,” Mother continues. “Your rainbow display made us all feel proud, but, even though you're a friend of Dorothy, the dreams that you dream of aren't coming true tonight. Seven point five.”

The point-five's a charity half.

I don't wait for the other judges to lay down their scores. I burn off the gown in a shower of embers, leaving behind only the charcoal-grey cocktail dress that was under the effects, and hop down from the far end of the runway. As I leave through the front door, so many people suck air through their teeth at once that it sounds like an airlock cycling.

Sure, everyone will think I'm a diva, but being a gracious loser is the quickest way to becoming some jobbing nobody, or, gods forbid, what's euphemistically called the enhancement talent. Honestly, I'm better off a bitch.

(The Prospero Praxis)

[luveline]

the babydoll | tasm!peter parker x reader

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asked, words a murmur. You felt his lips part over your skin. Though you’d been expecting it his hickey was startling, teeth grazing, kiss bruising.

“Peter-“ you started in protest.

He sealed his hickey with a quick kiss and pulled back, thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin adjacent to your heavy-lidded eye. “How about I show you how much I like it? Would that work?”

you’re usually much too shy for lingerie, but you’ll do anything for peter parker. he appreciates the effort. [4.8k]

warnings: smut, 18+ readers only please, lingerie, praise, shy reader, idiots in love, fem reader, she her pronouns used for reader

You pouted nervously at your reflection, though you struggled to dislike it. You twisted this way and that, pushing your hands down your hips in an assessment. Despite the nerves you felt eating away at your fingertips, pins and needles climbing up your arms, you thought you looked nice. You were scantily clad in a simple dark thong covered up by a sheer babydoll dress - though the babydoll was pretty and delicate, it left little to the imagination. Dainty lavender piping edged the V-neck top and the defined under-wired bust was split by a single lilac bow. In similar fashion, a further six bows, three at each split, decorated the hemline, kissing the tops of your thighs like three brown flower petals. The babydoll’s fabric was flowered, a relaxed fit. It made you feel unjustifiably pretty.

Perhaps not as pretty as the model, you thought, worrying the skin of your bottom lip. You'd first seen the lingerie in a department store window, walking happily with your boyfriend’s hand swinging clasped by your own. He’d stuttered to a stop out of the blue and you'd paused too, falling back to follow his gaze, which was moving over the model distractedly. You’d been suddenly too shy to tease, to ask him if he liked it, or even to get mad. He wasn’t ogling the model, simply looking. Then he turned to you and smiled easily, and said, “Pretty dress.”

You’d agreed, though you’d hardly call it a dress. Technically it was, but you technically couldn’t wear it out of the house without getting arrested, so. You’d watched him stare at that dress and felt at once that you might like to give him something, just once, repay his constant praises and devotion with something similar. You’d gone back the next day and fought against every inhibition. You hadn’t even tried it on in the store, too desperate to leave and never have to go back, face hot and hands sweating.

You picked at the lettuce edge hem on one section and twisted on the spot, almost entranced as the fabric lifted from your skin. All you wanted was for Peter to like it. If you’d gotten it wrong - if he’d liked the model more than the dress (though you barely entertained this idea) - you’d be embarrassed beyond words.

You’d left it at the bottom of your closet for days, afraid of it like it were a rabid dog waiting to bite you. Even as you’d lifted it from the bag you’d been cautious, running your hands over the silken material gently, feeling the small lace flowers under your fingertips.

The front door groaned open. You froze, tilting your head to listen for Peter’s footsteps as they traversed toward you. In a rush you checked over your appearance one last time, flattening your flyaways and dusting down your goosebumped skin, finding yourself short of breath. You barely heard the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open over the roaring in your ears, twining your hands together tightly behind your back as you turned to face your boyfriend.

He was windblown and bedraggled, backpack hastily zipped half-shut in his hands. You could see the blue and red fabric of his suit through the gap, which explained his appearance. Despite evidence of a long day, he had still entered the room with an eager smile on his face, hand halfway to his hair. When he spotted you standing motionless with the full-length mirror at your back, silent, he gave pause.

And then he really looked at you.

Neither of you spoke. It was nerve-wracking. You hadn’t wanted to assume he’d be pleased, hadn’t raised your own hopes with ideas of adoration, but you’d expected more than this subdued version of Peter. Stock-still, he traced the shape of you with his dark brown eyes, hand still hovering at his hair. He let it fall back to his side and dropped his backpack by the door. The noise snapped you out of your own immobility and forced you to blink. You crossed your arms over your chest in insecurity and took a step backwards, tripping into the mirror. The clattering had you wincing worse than ever and you looked down at your feet.

“This is stupid,” you muttered, turning to the en-suite door. You’d pulled it open about halfway when a loud ‘thwip’ arched through the room. The door slammed shut, glued at the edge by sticky webbing.

You, having flinched hard, looked over your shoulder incredulously.

Peter licked his lips. “I- I’m sorry. I was surprised.”

“Sort of the point,” you mumbled, eyes still wide, heart-racing. You knew he could probably hear your nervousness, the uneven pittering of your pulse. He let his arm, which had been raised and aimed at the door, fall away, pulling the web-shooters from his wrists. He walked into the room and dropped the homebrewed tech into the bowl on your vanity, eyes on you. He drifted to your side and you relaxed under his touch, his warm, big hand falling to the skin of your tricep. He pushed up until his fingers were at your shoulder and then slid under one of the straps on your babydoll, running it back and forth, letting it snap with little force against your skin.

“Nice dress,” he said easily.

You nodded, feeling brainless. Then, “Do you like it?”

“What?” he asked, voice high, eyebrows pinched. You had the sense that he was fighting back a laugh at your words, small and terrified as they were. He cleared his throat.

You would have laughed if you had it in you, looking down at your hands now, the feeling of embarrassment rising.

Peter’s hands enveloped your own. His thumb found a home atop your stressed knuckles, rubbing gently at the skin there. He brought your joined hands to his mouth and you followed them, forced to meet his eyes as he kissed your fingers. Panicking, you smiled weakly. He didn’t smile back so much as his eyes did, and you knew then that you hadn’t made a fool of yourself after all.

He pressed your hands to his chest and left them there, attempting to assuage you now, hands at your neck. “Do I like it?” he asked, words a murmur.

He moved his attention to your face, the side of his hand moving up your cheek and behind your ear to tilt your face to the side, baring the juncture of your neck to his wanting mouth. He pressed his lips to your skin, light as the brush of a butterfly's wings. Once, twice, chaste pecks peppered over your neck. A wave of heat crested your skin and warmed your cheeks. You held your breath as his mouth opened, felt his hot breath ruffle the fine baby hairs behind your ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his free hand roaming the flat of your sternum, “do I like it?” He nipped the skin underneath your ear. You inhaled through your nose in surprise and was overwhelmed by his smell. “I don’t know, let me think.”

You felt his lips part over your skin. Though you’d been expecting it, his hickey was startling, teeth grazing your skin, kiss bruising, he sucked until he’d turned the skin bright red.

“Peter-“ you started in protest. He gripped your shoulder in his other hand, holding you in place as he cut your words off with another punishing love bite that had you gasping your indignation, hand screwing up the soft neckline of his shirt. If he hadn’t been holding your neck up you knew your head would’ve been pressed tight to your shoulder, his ministrations enough to turn you limp in his hold.

He sealed his second hickey with a quick kiss and pulled back, thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin adjacent to your heavy-lidded eye. “How about I show you how much I like it? Would that work?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely.

“Yeah?” he asked, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, the cold tip of his nose against your warm as you closed your eyes to take in the sound of one another’s breathing. You crept closer to his chest to wrap your arms around his neck, wondering how much skin kept apart your too-fast hearts like this. He nudged your nose upward with his, encouraging you to part your lips, before pressing his mouth to yours, hand firm on your face.

You smiled against his mouth until you couldn’t, until all you could taste was Peter. His hand was holding you by the small of your back, pressing the flowery fabric snug to your skin. What started as a slow, sweet kiss fueled by your shyness and his want to reassure you turned ardent, you found yourself almost on your tip toes trying to get at him whilst he was grasping at your skin like you might somehow fall out of his hands. You broke the kiss to take in a gasping breath and he would barely allow it, pausing only to say, "You really-" another kiss, "want to know," his mouth on yours, "what I think?" He didn't give you time to respond, noses bumping as he turned his head for a wider angle.

You moved your hands to his face and held him away from you. "Yeah, Pete. I wanna know."

He nodded, eyes flitting down to your body pressed against him and back up to your eyes. He spoke quietly, as though this were a secret nobody else could ever become privy to.

"When I saw this," he pinched your strap in between his index and thumb, "on that model, I couldn't stop thinking about what it would look like on you. I half considered buying it for you myself."

"Why didn't you?"

He gently blew a hair from your face. "I want you to wear whatever you feel good in. Do you feel good in this?" he asked, eyes darting to the ribbon at your chest.

"It's pretty. I- I think I like it."

His eyes creased. "But?"

"But," you conceded, "my body-" you cut yourself off and shook your head, "I'm not sure I feel good in it."

"I'm gonna make you feel very good in it, sweetheart. That's a promise."

You felt something warm in the pit of your stomach, smiling at his bold declaration as if to say, is that so?

"Do I like it?" he repeated your words, intonation sarcastic, laced with disbelief.

He began walking you backward toward the bed, lips hot and desperate on your skin, flitting across your face in a way that made your chest tighten. He paused at your temple, your calves pressed against the bed frame, and said into your skin with his voice smooth as honey, "Feel how hard you make me and ask me again, pretty." He searched for your hand and brought it to his straining pants, stopping just above his dick. You hesitated coyly at his waistband before letting your hand close gently around him, squeezing with minimal pressure. He hissed, head dipping down to yours again, forehead on your forehead as he watched your hand pump with an awed look on his face.

"Slow down," he murmured, grabbing onto your hand. "I'd much rather watch you use these pretty hands for something else."

You looked up at him in question and he was already pushing you gently onto the bed. You shuffled against the pillows, bringing yourself up and into a W-shape, legs at either side of you. He kneeled in front of you, palming his dick already. You couldn't help but smile. This was what you'd wanted, and his reaction was flattering, Peter hard and flustered and maybe a little pushy, looking at you half adoring and other half like he was planning your ruination.

"What're you smiling about?" he asked, smiling too.

"Got you," you murmured.

"You did, huh? Alright," he reached out to spread your legs wider, "but it seems like I got you too."

You looked down and noticed what he was talking about; the dampening patch of darkened fabric at your slit. You reached down to cover it.

"Alright, baby, you wanna give me a show?"

"What?" you questioned nervously.

"Wearing your pretty dress, all worked up without me, I don't think you need me one bit," he said lightly.

You eyed him apprehensively, weary of his new game.

"Go on," he prompted, hand on his dick making long, slow strokes.

The sight of him alone was enough to make you want to touch yourself (though you would've preferred his hands to your own, his long fingers) and so you found it easy to push up the hem of your babydoll.

"Ah- through the dress."

You were skeptical but listened, pressing the fabric between your cunt and your hand.

"How much did it cost?"

"Huh?" you asked, still hesitating to touch yourself properly.

"How much did it cost? I need to know what I'll owe you when I wreck it."

You shook your head and bit back a laugh at his antics, pointedly ignoring the shot of heat it sent to your cunt. You pressed the tip of your fingers into the soft bead of your clit and felt the heartbeat there, swirling small circles, the tip of your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. You remembered yourself, looking up at Peter to find him staring intently at your hand.

"You're so pretty, you look so fucking perfect right now, touching yourself for me," he encouraged you, nodding, "you're doing such a good job."

"Peter," you scolded, shy. Your hand stilled and he started tutting, crawling on his knees. He pushed you forward and slotted himself between your back and the headboard, pulling you to his chest. You could feel his dick against your back. "What are you doing?" you asked suspiciously.

"You need help. I'm helping."

"I don't-"

He laced his hand over yours and pushed down, guiding your hand in circles. This was when the real cruelty began. His mouth skipped over your neck, kisses separated only by ridiculous pet names that had you pushing into his chest, desperate to be as close to him as you could get. "Always so good for me, my baby."

He was doing all the hard work - he'd always been a brilliant multitasker thanks to his exceptional dexterity and still you marvelled at his ability to unravel you with his fingers, grinding fabric relentlessly into your throbbing clit until you were dissolving in his arms.

The other hand was running over your body, smoothing the soft skin of your upper thigh. He increased the speed of his circles until you could feel the dull ache begin in your stomach.

"Pete - I'm close," you admitted weakly, trying to catch his expression. His dick jumped at your back with your confession.

He pulled your hand up away from your cunt, chuckling at your desperate protests, to put your own hand against your heaving chest.

“Peter,” you began.

“If anyone’s gonna make you cum in your dress, bub, it’s me. Let me play with you.”

He told rather than asked, hands coming up to cup your breasts, nipples peeking through the fabric. The underwire did a brilliant job you thought - even to yourself they looked better than usual, and you realised Peter thought the same. His hands roved over them gently, slowly, pushing them together at the centre and laughing boyishly in your ear.

“Shut up,” you protested, hating to be laughed at.

He pulled you closer still by the chest and readjusted you, hips rocking so you could feel the line of his dick up your back. He thrusted a few times, letting go of your tits only so he could pull down the straps of the babydoll and free them, fingers once again coming up to cup your now naked flesh. The feeling of his cock against your back made you feel dizzy, suddenly very ready to be fucked by him. You searched for the words to tell him as much as he pinched at your nipples with both hands.

“Pete,” you murmured.

He answered by kissing the back of your neck and leaving his parted mouth there, too intent on bullying your aching breasts to bother forming words.

“Peter, will you fuck me now?”

Another gentle thrust up your back accompanied by a hiss. “I’ll do worse," he said at your throat, "if you wanna turn around for me?”

You did, climbing up onto your knees to turn and kneel in between his open legs, reaching up to push the hair from his face. “Very aggro.”

“I’m about to show you aggro,” he joked, hands coming up to your waist. He took the waistband of your panties into his hand and pulled them down just enough to fit his hand in the gap. He ran his fingers in between your crease and found the wetness there, rubbing a slow back and forth. He’d dipped the tip of his finger inside your entrance. You wiggled where you were and he pulled away.

“You’re being especially teasing today,” you said quietly.

“Could you expect anything less?”

“Always quick to quip at me, too.”

You leaned on his shoulders and Peter pulled your underwear off you completely. You settled back down and felt your wet cunt touch the sheets, a small wet patch taking shape underneath you. You toyed with the edges of Peter’s shirt and he pulled that off too.

You adored his naked chest. He was muscled, with bulky arms that made your heart race and tits to rival your own. Without thinking you grasped at his bicep, felt the toned muscle under his skin shift as his forearm came up to grab you too. “You’re so pretty,” you told him seriously.

“I’ll pretend you were looking at my face when you said that,” he said, though he didn’t sound as displeased as he’d wanted to, you guessed. You brushed your thumb over a fading bruise and leaned down to kiss it. “Pretty boy,” you praised him, moving to kiss the hill of his shoulder, “my baby,” kissing his collarbone, “I’m lucky.”

“You think you’re the lucky one?” he asked, hand cupping the side of your face. “You know how you look? I should’ve said it the second I opened the door. You look perfect.”

He was smiling as he said it. You kissed the corners of his smile and the tip of his nose in a move unlike yourself, feeling all filled up with love that wanted to get out. His big arms came around your back and pulled you so that your knees were either side of him, seated firmly against his clothed erection. He kissed you sweetly, guiding your hips up and down to grind against his cock, spurred on by the hiccups in your breathing when he did it just so.

"Got you," he said under his breath.

You moaned. His grip on your back tightened in response, dragging you down. You moaned again, eyes shutting as you moved your head over his shoulder, chin digging into his trap muscle. He didn't complain, moving his hips up to meet you.

He was panting with the effort of it, working himself into a tizzy under you. The layers of his clothes between you wasn't working for you anymore and you pushed your hands at his shoulders to force him to let you go and sit on his spread thighs. This was an illusion - Peter was much too strong for you to really break his grip. He indulged you and was quick to recognise your intentions, unzipping his pants.

You swallowed, reaching down into his boxers. You used the bottom of your hand to push them down as you wrapped your fingers around him, contact a whisper, conscious of his head weeping precum already.

Using the flat of your hand to palm your boyfriend's aching cock, you traced a light line down the underside, your wrist ghosting against his balls.

He twitched. You giggled and started shuffling backwards. Peter wouldn't allow this. "Where you going?"

"I was going to-"

"I know what you were going to do. You really think I'd last in that pretty mouth?"

You shook your head at him and felt your cheeks warm, hesitating where you were. Peter pulled you close, up over the curve of his dick so the head was tucked against your slick cunt. You climbed up on your knees, trying to position yourself. His dick leapt against your cunt and you both moaned. Like you'd both had the same thought - the teasing had gone on long enough - you were both rushing then to fuck, Peter pushed his hand down to find your entrance with his dick, teasing the wet hole with his head.

You let yourself fall down slowly, felt him open you up. This position always fucked you up with Peter. He was so big, and the stretch felt never-ending. Your eyebrows knit together in concentration, lips bit to stop from crying out.

He pulled you up by your hips. "Take it slow, dove."

You hated being told what to do, you decided, sinking down onto as much of him as you could take.

You and Peter both paused. He mumbled something that sounded like fuck into the skin of your shoulder, hands tight around your waist. You keened, loudly, the concerning kind that had him kissing every inch of skin he could reach. "Y'always take me so well," he praised, hugging you to his chest.

You smiled shakily. This was the best part.

He stayed very still as you moved at first in case he hurt you, especially because he hadn't stretched you out beforehand. His arms fell away as you rode him. You realised they were buried in the sheets, knuckles so tense they'd gone white as snow.

You lifted yourself up as high as you could. Peter pushed your ankles over the backs of his thighs and you found you could go a little faster. He was looking up at your face, watching your concentrated pout with big bright eyes, eyelashes touching as they drifted shut.

Peter's hands abandoned your ankles to sneak under the babydoll, pushing past the underwire to knead the flesh of your tits as you bounced, the bed moving just a little every time you took him fully. You were a mess, wet collecting in your eyelashes, dress askew, bruises courtesy of Peter's mouth smattering your neck.

Peter thought so too. "My messy girl, I wish you could see yourself. Ruining your underwear, my jeans are fucked. Got you all over me, look-"

You both looked down at your mess. You rolled your hips, seated fully on his crotch and enjoying it beyond words, aiming for your own sweet spot with every movement. Peter's hand came up over your shoulder and he pulled your stomach to his chest. "Slow down."

You nodded and held in every taunt that waded to the surface, too distracted chasing your own pleasure. You were slow again for a while, whimpering as the fingers still splayed over your tit twisted your nipple. You pushed down on him again.

He hissed and pulled you up quickly. You could feel his dick moving by itself, searching for your cunt.

"Wha-" you began to question his action when he'd lifted you up with no effort, biceps tightening, he laid you out on your back, the headboard behind him.

"Alright, it's alright baby. You look so lovely," he said this all with his hands at your legs, pulling you down close to his cock, the other pushing your knee against your abdomen. You felt the action force slick down your cunt to drip onto the rumpled bedsheets. "All dressed up for me, let me take care of you know, yeah?"

His reverent words were followed by his fingers at your entrance. He pushed two fingers inside straight off the bat, groaning as you constricted around him, looking for me. He eased three fingers in on the next thrust and his eyes were blown wide. "Fuck, pretty pussy all stretched out, huh? My pretty girl all gaping." He pulled his fingers out fast.

He pulled you open with his thumb, hitting his cock against the swollen bead of your clit, smile growing as you mewled. You wiggled your hips down searchingly.

"Okay…" he soothed, big hand on your thigh, "let me put my girl out of her misery."

"You're a horrible tease," you said, words all breathless as he pushed in.

His hips brushed yours. "Here I thought I was being nice."

He pulled out. "You don't fool me, Parker."

He thrusted in roughly, pelvis smacking your own. You saw stars, letting your head fall back onto the duvet. Your own fault, you'd egged him on. His thrusts were slow, you knew he was close to cumming, knew that was why he'd changed your position, taken back the power.

You were soon on the edge of tears, begging him to go faster. "Please, Pete."

You both knew if he wasn't careful he'd be filling you up. He obviously wanted to last a little longer, and he'd do this under the guise of bullying you. He stopped with his dick deep in your tummy and leaned down to kiss your navel. He was taking slow strokes seated inside you, the opposite of what you wanted, his thumb coming down to your clit. You unthinkingly grabbed at his hand and he tsked, took both your hands in his large one to hold them high overhead. He weaved up and down your soaked pussy with a featherlight touch.

You whimpered. He pushed two fingers into your sensitive bud and started drawing shapes.

"Peter," you said, eyes wet now.

He shushed you.

"Peter, please. Please, move," you implored him.

He rolled his hips. "In a second."

"Now!" you begged.

He paused his ministrations and met your glassy eyes. Something in his face changed.

"Alright, dove. Just remember you asked for it."

Sparks shot straight down your core. He crawled as close as he could with his knees either side of your thighs as he pushed both your legs up to your chest. He rocked in mercilessly. You gasped. He did it again, until he was pounding into you, until the sound of his skin smacking against yours was deafening in your ears.

You couldn't catch your breath. You recovered from one thrust and was then overwhelmed by the next. Peter pushed your hands over your head and drove into you, his chin at your eye level, head bobbing with the force of him. You screwed your eyes shut and let your boyfriend spear you open, any words merging into one frantic moan.

Your legs were trembling. Peter's moans were getting louder as he approached his climax, thrusts sloppy with the fugue of pleasure. You squeezed your walls around him and savoured the sound he made at the drag. He shuddered at the feeling, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to whatever skin was closest.

"Fucking me so good," you said shyly, gasping for air.

He shook his head with an elated grin. He made a broad stroke with his hips. "So fucking pretty," he said, and then with a quick last thrust he'd come inside you, painting your insides white fingers squeezing your wrists as he rode it out.

"Fuck, Y/N," he said, pushing up to kiss your forehead. He was still rutting inside you, fucking his cum back in. You railed against his hold on your wrists and he let go reluctantly.

He was still rock hard as he pulled out to chase his cum, using the head of his cock to push it back inside you. You used your now free hands to grab at his face. He kissed you brilliantly, breathing hard with his hand at your clit. He pitched forward into your sweet spot and rubbed against it cruelly, laughing at your whines as you came. He didn't let up his circles in your clit until you'd finished contracting around him.

"You sound just as pretty as you look," he praised, neatening up your babydoll, pushing the straps back up to cover your chest again, but not before he'd nipped each breast.

You panted, fingers wrapped around Peter's forearms. He hadn't broken a sweat, you realised, glaring at him. He was smirking slyly, his own fingers tracing circles around your sopping entrance, pushing in and out slowly.

"Take a breather, dolly. I haven't wrecked your dress yet."

<3

thanks so much for reading!

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