#Backless swimsuit

[kimludcom]

er: WOMEN Fit: Fit

[rosalieapoligist]

Bella Swan is sooo queer

A significant chunk of my notes during my twilight annotation were about Bella's dyke moments so lets look together:

I made 8 different notes calling Bella gay and 5 of them are about Rosalie

When Rosalie gets introduced we get this passage "The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back." Meanwhile Edward's entire introduction is "The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college" It sounds pretty clear which of the two Bella finds more attractive and is more drawn to off the bat

Much later in chapter 12 Bella says "Suddenly Rosalie, his blonde and breathtaking sister, turned to look at me." "I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me" Mind you, Edward and Bella are together(ish) at this point - it is set after the Port Angeles scene

In chapter 14, Edward and Bella are having a light conversation about feeling jealousy and Bella throws in this little comment "Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie"

When she meets the family later, Edward is telling Bella that Rose is jealous of Bella's humanity and she says "I tried hard to imagine a universe in which someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me."

Finally, at prom, Bella sees Rosalie and says "And Rosalie was... well, Rosalie. She was beyond belief. Her vivid scarlet dress was backless, tight to her calves where it flared into a wide ruffled train, with a neckline that plunged to her waist." Firstly, not school dance appropriate attire, secondly, gay as hell.

Not to worry everyone, Rosalie is not the only person Bella is gay about. Alice also gets some wildly queer moments too

This first one takes place exactly one page after our second Rosalie note, in which Bella says "Alice - her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face - was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness." " 'Edward' she answered, her high soprano voice was almost as attractive as his."

Later at the Cullen house where Bella is officially meeting the family, Alice comes superspeed running into the room (graceful description again) and the family is disapproving of her unsubtle vampirism, but Bella says "But I liked it. It was natural - for her anyway". She then gets a cheek kiss from Alice, and Bella describes herself as feeling pleased - yeah I sure bet you were

My final note takes place during a conversation between Bella and Charlie about her not going to the school dance and reads "It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn't. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Charlie had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I did like." It just feels so incredibly queer coded - if it was brought out of context it would sound exactly like the fear of a queer child who believes their parent would not be accepting of them if they came out.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

28 / 29 for the hugging prompts, perhaps a mix or just one of them with Terzo? Preferably Terzo being the argessive needy hugger:)

I hope you ask box is no longer lonely now

Okay, I hope this covers it. This man desperately needs adult supervision.

No smut this time, just fluff.

____________________________________________________________

Cirrus and Cumulus decided that four days was enough pouting and moping around for anyone so, on the morning of the fifth day, they stopped by your quarters to let you know that they’d decided on a pool day for you. It was blazing hot out and Terzo had been less successful at ducking out of his Ministry business trip early than he’d hoped. The last update you’d gotten, he’d tried to sound hopeful, but you could hear it in his voice that it wasn’t likely.

“You need to get out of the Abbey.” Cirrus huffed.

“Besides, if you send him some swimsuit pictures, he’ll probably be home before sundown.” Cumulus offered with a wink.

You didn’t have any decent arguments and, honestly, you probably did need to get out. Your quarters always felt empty when he was away and the Abbey just wasn’t the same. Plus, Cumulus was right. Getting ready gave you an excuse to take a few pictures of the options and send them to your much missed Papa.

You: The girls have decided that I need a pool day and I need a discerning eye to help me choose a swimsuit. Terzo: Oh, now this is a very serious matter, amore. I must see to be able to give a professional opinion. You will get nothing but my complete and full attention.

You chuckle, and shake your head. Satan help you both if he’s in the middle of a meeting, focusing on his phone instead. You wouldn’t put it past him to show off the pictures either to brag about his amore. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

But the offer’s been made. Dutifully you send him four options. The black backless halter. The two piece in his papal colours. The navy polka dot vintage he’d dubbed your pin-up suit. And, finally, the crimson cross straps. Each one showing Read immediately. Even if his response is a bit slow.

Terzo: I see now why you need someone to help you, bellissima. Such a difficult choice when you look so good in all four. Perhaps you send me one without any suit so I can compare?

You snort reading the message. As if he doesn’t have dozens of pictures on his phone “to compare”.

You: I can always ask your brothers if you need assistance choosing… Terzo: Amore! You wouldn’t! Non conoscerebbero la moda neanche se gli mordesse il culo! You: Oh, so you have a favourite then?

Giggling to yourself, you swear you can hear his pouty huff from halfway across the country. But, Hellfire, it’s just too easy to get him wound up sometimes.

Terzo: The fourth one. Without question. You look like a gift wrapped up in beautiful ribbon. And when I get home, I untie it and enjoy everything inside the wrapping.

You: … any idea when that might be?

The wait for his response is too long to get your hopes up. If it were good news, he’d have already said.

Terzo: Soon, mio cuore. I swear to you. Soon.

Ah yes, there it is. Another few days, at least. Just reading the words, you can hear the disappointment in his voice. But the last thing you want to do is to contribute to his misery. It’s bad enough to be stuck in boring meetings all day.

You: Duties come first. I know that and I understand. I will just be that much more eager to see you when you do get home. And I promise, you can unwrap your gift then. Do you want me to send you pictures from the pool or will that only be a tease? Terzo: You are always so good to me, tesoro. I hate to disappoint you. But I am glad the girls are making sure you are occupied. Please, send me pictures. I want to see your beautiful face in the sunshine. You: I promise I will. Terzo: Ti amo tanto. Il mio cuore soffre per essere lontano. You: I love you, too. When you get back, we will have a full day together, just you and me. Doing whatever you like.

It’s a dangerous offer, but no reward worth having ever came without a bit of risk.

In the time it takes for Cirrus and Cumulus to get you from the Abbey to the pool, there are a handful more messages back and forth and then a further twenty from Terzo apologising profusely for having to turn off his phone for another meeting. A meeting he told you was supposed to start at 2pm. Checking your clock, you can’t help but notice he’s already thirty minutes late.

Eventually the texts stop and you tuck your phone away. He’ll be busy all afternoon, based on how things have gone so far. The pool, despite the heat, is blessedly quiet. You spread your towel out on one of the loungers and stretch out to relax a bit. The girls were right, you desperately needed to get out for a bit, get some fresh air and some sun. It’s still not the same without him, but it beats moping and pouting around the Abbey. And your lovely ghoulfriends are nice enough not to say we told you so. At least not out loud.

After half dozing for a bit, and turning over to get a bit of colour on your back as well, you finally drag yourself off the lounger and stretch. Might as well swim a bit, the water does look lovely and cool. One quick peek at your phone and no new messages gets a hint of a frown. The meeting must be running late. Terzo will be in a mood when they finally release him and you make a mental note for the video call that’s bound to follow.

“Hey!” Calls Cirrus from the edge of the pool. “You’re supposed to be relaxing and enjoying yourself, remember?”

“I know! I know! I am! Look at me! Look how relaxed I am!” You call back, tucking your phone away again and smiling. “I was just checking the time and then coming for a swim!”

“Uh huh.” She looks at you doubtfully. “And you’re so bad at telling time that you need to stare at your phone, pouting?”

“I wasn’t pouting!” You laugh, stick your toes in the water and splash her.

Whatever her reply is, you don’t really hear it. Something else caught your attention first. Some kind of commotion in the parking lot as you squint into the sun, holding up a hand to shade your eyes and see what’s going on. Whatever it is, it seems to be moving toward the pool at an alarming rate.

And then you hear it.

“Amoreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Getting louder as the cause of the commotion gets closer.

Terzo, still in his paints and his formal suit vaults over the row of hedges between the entrance to the pool area and the deck. For a man who trips over his own feet frequently, he sticks the landing with a grace and elegance that would put any ballerina to shame.

“Terzo????” You yelp. There are MANY more unanswered questions, but none of them are short enough to ask as he doesn’t stop moving after clearing the shrubbery. Running at you with a determination you’ve rarely seen before. “Terzo, no! Nonononononono….”

But it’s too late. He grabs you around the waist, pulling you up against him, claiming your mouth fiercely as momentum carries you both flying into the pool. Whatever chaos the resulting splash causes is lost to you in the muffled quiet of the water, Terzo’s desperate hold on you, and the taste of his mouth mingling with the chlorine taste of the pool. What other choice is there than to wrap your arms around the most ridiculous, perfect man in the world and lose yourself in his love?

When you open your eyes, his make-up is a disaster and his hair floats around his head making him look even more like a madman. His good suit is most certainly ruined as well. And still, all you can do is beam at him, pulling him in for another kiss. He holds you a little tighter, getting his feet under him to push you both back to the surface. There are a few people glaring at you both, wringing out soaked towels and one woman loudly complaining while she shakes out her waterlogged book, though Terzo certainly doesn’t seem to care. Too busy staring at you, grinning so hard you have to laugh.

“What, in Satan’s name, are you doing here???”

“Doing?” He looks confused by the question. “I tell you I will be home soon, amore! You think Papa would lie to you?”

You roll your eyes. “You told me you had a meeting at two o’clock and that it would be a few days!”

He waves the facts away with a soaking wet gloved hand. “That’s not a lie. That is… eh… a little bullshit so you don’t guess my surprise.”

“You are ridiculous.” And he is. Completely. Utterly. Ridiculous.

“And you love it.” He grins smugly.

“More than anything.”

His hair is plastered to his face, his make-up and suit are ruined, and he still looks like the happiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Babe? Just one question… is your phone still in your pocket?”

Terzo freezes, blinking at you for a long moment. “………………………… Shit.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

His smile lights up again, pulling you into another kiss just as you spot security walking toward the pool. As if something as foolish as a phone could dampen his mood.

“I can get a new phone. I only have one amore.”

____________________________________________________________

Non conoscerebbero la moda neanche se gli mordesse il culo! = They wouldn't know fashion if it bit their ass!

Ti amo tanto. Il mio cuore soffre per essere lontano = I love you so much. My heart aches to be away.

[wonderlandoffanfics]

Manifest Fantasies – dat dress tho

Okay so I couldn't stop and there are two smutty follow ups to my first fic! I had to write about the outfits reader got....

part 1

Part 2

swimsuit addition

WC: 2451

CW: fem reader,  MDNI, alcohol usage, drunk comfort, vaginal penetration, no protection mentioned, use of barrier power during sex, accidentally got a bit cute with this one (that was not the plan but here we are)

Reminder of the dress: A red dress; the top of it secured around your neck like a collar and has an open diamond shape down the front to show your cleavage. No sleeves, backless, and a high slit on the left leg as it drapes down to the floor but hugs your curves.

“I think we should stop there…” you hear Barto say, “We’ll chart course right away!” a crewmate chimes back and you hear his footsteps wander away. Unable to help yourself, you walk into the room and sidle yourself up to Barto, “Where to now, Captain?” You give him your best doe-eyed look as you feel him stiffen at your sudden appearance.

Knowing he’s been caught, he looks at the ceiling, “Y/n!” you can see him trying to think of how to evade your question, clearly it’s a secret for you to some degree. “We’re going to an island with a special event on it.” He says without looking at you in your eyes. “What do you mean? What kind of event, Barto?”

You can see the wheels turning, when he finally sighs and gives in to your questioning, “We’re going ta join a kind of fancy party, I suppose ya should know now anyway so ya can get ready – we’ll be docking in a few hours.” He says and kisses you on the cheek with a quick smirk. You immediately hug him and rush away to get dressed. You’ve been dying for a reason to wear that red dress he bought for you months ago and it seems he has been working towards giving you a place to use it. It brings you such joy to know how he spoils you.

Your hair is done, make-up done, dress on, and looking fire. You walk from the bathroom and into your bedroom to get your shoes and jewelry on when you hear a knock at the door. “Come in!” you shout, continuing your activities at your dresser. Barto comes in, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, you’ve never seen him look so dapper; your mouth opens and you can’t stop staring at how handsome he looks before you.

“Barto…. You look so good,” you practically float over to him with hearts in your eyes and grab into his tie, pulling him down into a kiss, “I didn’t know you had this suit.” He’s red as you pull away to look at him more, and you realize he has something hidden behind his back, “what do you have?”

“One final surprise, close your eyes.” He says and you follow instructions. You feel him place something on your face, “okay, open.” He says and you look at him. He is wearing a mask that covers the top half of his face; it’s black with silver details and spiral horns coming up off the top edge. You turn to the small mirror on top of your dresser and look at your own face, adorned with a small red mask, also with silver details and jewels in the center, the sides flare out giving a featherlike feel.

“We’re going to a Masquerade in town that celebrates this islands history!” he exclaims. “Ah! This will be so fun!” you link arms with him as he leads you out towards the deck. The ship is already docked and the men whistle at you both as you are escorted away into a lively town, decorated with dynamic and colorful ornaments, garlands, balloons, etc.

Within the town itself, Barto had led you to the epicenter of the festivities, a large building filled to the brim with people; all dancing and drinking. You both join the fun, enjoying every bit of the entertainment and free flowing liquids. For hours it seems the party will never end and you feel yourself getting tired, and a bit too drunk.

Never having left your side, Barto notices you faltering and fading, “Want ta go somewhere more quiet for a while?” he asks and you nod, clearly very intoxicated. Without saying anything else, he picks you up, like he did when you agreed to join the crew and sits you on one of his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and burying your masked face against his shoulder. He takes you through the large building and locates an empty room upstairs. It’s small and filled with books, a desk, and a cozy sitting area with a chaise lounge.

He sets you gently down on the couch and goes back to lock the door, ensuring no one will bother you as you rest from the raucous events downstairs. “Ya okay, y/n?” you nod again at him, unable to form words. You were certainly drunk enough that you weren’t able to think properly, but not enough that you were sick… yet. You’ve had this feeling before, and just needed to lie back for a while as your body took over and processed everything you had slammed back. If you pushed too hard that would be the end of not feeling ill.

Barto took off your mask and stayed by you, holding your hand and checking in with you. After about 20 minutes or so, you think, you were able to sit up. Barto immediately held you and rubbed your bare back; you leaned on him, closed your eyes, and took deep breaths with the pace of his stroking, enjoying the calm and his hand on your skin. “You’re too good to me,” you mumble out to him, still sounding very tipsy, “taking me with you, showing me the best places, and putting up with me right now….I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a good man….I love you so much, Barto….”

It doesn’t register with you what you’ve said but Barto is beyond aware of the confession that just drunkenly spilled from you. He feels his face heat up and cannot contain his smile, “I love you too, Y/n” he whispers back to you but recognizes you are now asleep in his arms.

---

It’s dark when you next open your eyes. There’s light coming from under a door and you start to recall where you are as you hear the masquerade still raging down below the floor. As your eyes adjust more to the dimly lit room you try to sit up but Barto’s arm is wrapped around you, holding you to his chest; you’re laying almost completely on top of him on the chaise lounge that he barely fits on.

You smile at him through the darkness and lie your head back down on him, listening to his heart beat and breathing. His hand begins to move up your back as he stirs beneath you, “Y/n?” he says softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that drunk. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.” He pets your hair, “Not at all, love.” His last word hits your ear and shocks you upright. He still has his mask on but you can see his fanged smile and confident eyes looking at you.

It hits you, before you passed out you confessed to him. You hadn’t meant for that to slip out but you don’t regret the truth that the booze had pulled from you. He makes you feel so cared for, safe, and comfortable to be yourself. Every time you look at him your heart goes wild and since you became a couple you have wanted nothing more than to be at his side each day; exploring the world and experiencing life together. You do love him; every aspect of his silliness and strength, his crude humor and admiration of his heroes, any time he takes charge of the crew and when he relaxes in your arms at night. He was multitudes of depth you didn’t realize a person could be; you were attracted to his personality, his body, his mind, like a log pose to an island.

All the love in your person was overflowing; you wanted him closer, you always want him closer. You shift yourself up his body and glide your lips along his neck, leaving kisses every few centimeters until you reach his chin. You hover over his mouth for a split second before he takes you with passion. His embrace is gentle but strong, every bit of himself pouring into you, making your adoration for each other that much more apparent.

Your hands begin working to unbutton his vest and shirt, untucking the front from his pants and sliding your hand over his torso, tracing his abs and grabbing his pecs. His hands reach down to your thighs, squeezing and pulling you closer; one hand able to grip your bare skin thanks to the slit of the dress moves up to your ass and he lets out a hum when he realizes you choose not to wear underwear. You’re now more than aware of how hard he is beneath you, his pants struggling to keep him contained.

Within seconds you are lifted up, both off the couch as he carries you to the desk on the other side of the small room and sits you down on the edge of it. He moves the sides of your dress in between your boobs and gropes them, now free of what little material covered them to begin with. Moving down your body he bites and licks every bit of bare skin, your nipples, to your hips, he glides down onto his knees in front of you and looks into your eyes as he spreads your legs and opens the bottom of your dress, exposing you to the cool air in the room.

One hand on each knee, he moves them sensually up your inner thighs. He drags his lips along the same trail as his hands wrap underneath you, fingers reach around the top of your legs, controlling your position in front of him. He commences licking at your folds, with bold firm strokes of his tongue. You grab his mask and toss it to the side, reveling in being able to see his satisfied smirk against your pussy.

His tongue sinks into you and he rubs his nose and piercing to your clit, the contrast in warm skin and cold metal cause you to tremble, heat pooling in your core. He pulls noises from you that you didn’t know you could create. He brings his right hand back to your inner thigh and teases entry to you, dragging his tongue firmly out of you and up onto your clit, flicking the tip of it over you and swirling in circles before he sucks on it and gently nudges his teeth to it.

You’re breathing hard, whimpering his name, pulling his hair and losing yourself against his skilled mouth. He adds two fingers to the mix and you feel him go deep inside you, hitting your favorite spots like never before, your face telling him how close you are as he drives more moans and whines from you. With his fingers spreading inside you, he slips his tongue between them and laps at the essences spilling from you as you reach your peak, his thumb taking over on your bud to keep your stimulation riding in waves.

Your back hits the desk, unable to sit up anymore from his ruinous fervor.  As you lie on the cool lacquered finish you hear his belt clicking and pants being unzipped, your eyes move to look at him, now standing between your legs, and leaning over you. He’s leaking precum that you can feel smear on your skin when his length drags along your lower stomach.

He gives you a taste of yourself with his mouth and forces his hands under you, lifting you back up towards him. You are at his mercy as he flips you around and presses your breasts against the smooth wood, lifting your dress and tucking the length under your hips giving you cushion from the harsh edges of the desk. The forceful nature he’s wielding is another new side to him, you can’t help but drip with arousal knowing he’s about to take you how he wants to.

His feet force yours to spread further apart and his hands rub the back of your thighs. With a covetous grumble he grips your hips firmly, thumbs on your ass pulling you open to be fully viewed from behind. He lines himself up with your needy hole, giving you just the tip of his large dick and leans back over you, pressing his chest to your back, slack tie tickling your spine. “You’re mine. Made just for me. Now and forever.” He purrs against your ear and your writhe under him, desperate for him to be fully inside you. “I’m yours.” You echo with a smoldering tone, “I love you.”

The outpouring of your confession hits him again; now much more aware it wasn’t just a slip of your drunken self. He ends the torment of being so close but so far from you and plunges himself deep within your heat. His unyielding lust for you brings tantalizing bliss to your face, your hands want to feel him but as you try to move he uses his barrier power to pin your wrists to the desk. He’s never used his power like this on you before and you find yourself throbbing and tightening at the feeling that he is in full control.

You scream his name as he ravenously pounds into you, completely and utterly at his disposal. “Fu…ck” you stammer, his hand using his power now keeping your lower back pressed down while the other twists around your hips to press his fingers to your clit. As he thrusts, his balls slap against you and his fingers, he uses the additional motion to work you into delirium.

“Close” he murmurs, barely audible to you. He adds a bit of pressure with his fingers, sending your body into an electric tension. You cum hard around him, sending him to his own paradise inside you, he twitches wildly as he releases everything he has into you.

His power no longer holds you down but his body does. He catches his breath on top of you, kissing your shoulders and upper back, entangling his fingers with yours over the back of your hands, “I love you too.” You smile at his words and let out a giggle of pure joy.

He pulls out of you and tugs his pants back up, getting dressed again while you try to stand up straight, leaning against the desk for support and tucking your breasts back into your dress. You turn and help him button his vest back up, loosely moving his tie back into place so he doesn’t look as disheveled as you both feel. “Let’s go home, Barto.” You say patting his chest once you’re satisfied with his suit. He grabs the masks and puts them on you both, leaning down and kissing you gently, “To home, my love.”

[sister-cna-reader]

Imagine Bill gets a job as a life guard and Anya and Becky wanted to go and support him but Becky can’t stop and stare at his skimpy briefs. But Bill is too distracted at Becky’s revealing one piece. And Anya is too busy seeing their thoughts to notice Damian drowning.

Okay okay okay........ (fashion my beloved 💕)

Oh lord..... Becky didn't stand a chance

Those are SHORTS.

Once Damian finally got his leg to stop cramping and get both of his feet under him, he tried to figure out why NOT ONE PERSON had bothered to help.

He expected no help from Becky, distracted with her boyfriend in fire red swim trunks and a tan worthy of Apollo. (He wasn't jealous that he didn't tan. no... not at all...)

He didn't expect Anya to be able to help much at all, strength notwithstanding. She'd already been very flushed once they hit the beach and to be fair- she might need some more water.

Who he did expect help from was the LIFEGUARD. The guy the city was paying to save lives!

Bill Watkins should've noticed a struggling swimmer! But of course, the man was honed in on Becky's nearly backless swimsuit.

And he understood. Honestly, Damian could barely take his eyes off of the delicate curve of Anya's bare shoulders and the swath of bare legs on display. BUT HE"D NOTICE A DROWNING PERSON!

Thank you for the ask Anon 😘💕

[silentwalrus1]

Are you pro or anti ship/kink/fic? (Serious Question NOT Discourse Bait)

Trying very hard to understand this question. People only find this blog through either my fanart or my fanfic. Unless they are a houseplant that fell over on an open laptop keyboard, i have to assume they understand the principle of clicking on, for example, my username, either here or on ao3, where they can then see my full catalogue of fanworks, and the tags thereupon, and perhaps even read them. From there i further assume that they can make their own deductions on, for example, any thoughts i may have regarding the above question.

Since you have successfully navigated all the way to my askbox, i can only assume, given the above, that you just want some kind of public statement on this issue. From me, the person who put their swimsuit on backwards today. My swimsuit is backless. Do you want to know how many minutes it took me to notice? In the public gym locker room? Do you?

[kelyon]

Courtship 2: First Date--Restaurant

Mr. Gold takes Lacey out to dinner.

Read on AO3

There was no question of what dress Lacey would wear to dinner with Mr. Gold. Most of her clothes were for work--mud-stained jeans and faded tee-shirts. She had a capped-sleeved sundress she’d worn to graduation and a long black skirt she wore to the funerals. Add in two pairs of slacks and a few blouses and sweaters and that was the entirety of Lacey French’s wardrobe. 

Except for one special dress. 

It had been a present when she’d turned nineteen--the last birthday her mother would be alive for.   

“It’s bold,” Mom had said when Lacey picked it up off the clearance rack at Modern Fashions. Her face had been so thin by that point. Her voice was so tired. “Like you, my brave girl.”

Bold was a nice way of putting it. Too slutty to wear in public was more accurate. Purple-blue and shining with sequins, it was a dress that drew attention to itself, even on the hanger. For months, it had hung in Lacey’s closet unworn. Sometimes she regretted even having it. It was too short and too tight to wear anywhere respectable, too fancy and too fragile to wear anywhere fun. This dress was too frivolous, too reckless, too much. Yet it called to her. The sequins glittered like a trove of jewels, a secret treasure hidden away until it was needed. This dress--thinking about wearing it, thinking about where she’d go in it, who she’d be with, who she’d be--always put a fire in her heart. 

Mr. Gold wasn’t the sort of man she’d imagined wearing this dress for, but he was close enough. It wasn’t like anyone else was lining up to take her out to dinner anywhere, let alone to Bella Notte, the most expensive restaurant in town. Whether Lacey had known it or not, this dress had been waiting for him.

Maybe she had been waiting for him too.

****

On Monday night, Lacey took as long a shower as she could. The plumbing in their building was finicky, but Lacey knew the delicate ritual of turning the water off at regular intervals to make sure the temperature stayed warmish for as long as possible. In intermittent stages, she washed and conditioned her hair, washed her body, and shaved. 

She wasn’t normally one to shave once swimsuit season was over, but a date with Mr. Gold seemed like a special occasion. She slathered conditioner on her legs and in her armpits. Hair conditioner worked just as well as shaving cream, which always seemed like an unnecessary indulgence. 

While she waited for the ancient hot water tank to fill up again, she took a pumice stone to her damp feet. Sitting on the edge of the yellowed bathtub, she rubbed the rough rock over her heels, then across her knees and elbows, anywhere that was dry or scaly. She scraped away dead skin and revealed a new layer, soft and pink. The more she did it the more it hurt, but there was something enjoyable about the prickly pain. It invigorated her, made her feel alive. 

Her friend Mara had given her a sugar scrub for Christmas, homemade with coconut oil and vanilla extract. Rubbing that on was a mixture of pleasure and pain, the oil smoothing the skin that the sugar had irritated. This was Lacey’s favorite way to pamper herself. Other girls might like soaking in bubble baths, but she always wanted to be scraped raw. Torn apart and put back together again. Reborn, and truly cleansed. 

Tuesday night--the night of the date--she only had time to wash her body after work. It was a shower quick enough that the water had only just begun to turn cold by the time she was done. 

Though her dress had long sleeves and a high neckline, it was practically backless--nothing but thin straps crisscrossing until just above her butt. Whatever bra she wore, the band would be on full display every time she turned around. Therefore, a bra was out of the question. Well, that was manageable. Lacey’s boobs were on the smallish side, as her ex-boyfriend had often remarked. She didn’t need to wear a bra, especially if she wasn’t going to be running or anything.

So she didn’t. 

The fabric was scratchy on the inside, not entirely unpleasant. The busy shimmer of sequins concealed the specific shapes of her breasts, so she wouldn’t have to worry about her nipples showing if they poked out in the cold. She could get away with it.

Her black pantyhose had seemed conservative and stodgy when she’d worn them with her long black skirt--first to her mother’s funeral, then to Uncle Peter and Andrew’s. Now, with this dress, the stockings looked risque, somehow scandalous. Probably because the dress was so short that her pantyhose were functioning as skin-tight, see-through pants. That was scandalous. 

And kind of fun. 

All the jewelry she owned was cheap and immature. Charm bracelets and best-friend necklaces and earrings with plastic flowers or hearts. Kids’ stuff. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but she didn’t have anything adult either. Before, any time Lacey had needed to look really nice, she’d supplement her wardrobe by raiding her mom’s closet. Now that seemed tantamount to grave robbing.

More than that, she didn’t want to wear anything of Mom’s on a date with Mr. Gold. This was the first night she’d had in a while where she’d have an opportunity to not think about Mom, to not think about every terrible thing that had happened to her since the day after graduation. For just an evening, she could pretend her life wasn’t her life. She could be someone other than Lacey French, human tragedy and utter waste of potential. 

Miss French, Mr. Gold liked to call her. She’d tried to tell him he could call her by her first name, but now she liked the formality. Was Miss French a different person than Lacey? Was she someone Lacey would rather be? Miss French was going to Bella fucking Notte with the man who owned practically all of Storybrooke. Plain old Lacey wasn’t good enough for that.

In the end, she didn’t wear any jewelry. Probably for the best. Mr. Gold handled a lot of valuables in his pawn shop. He’d know at a glance if she was wearing garbage. Mr. Gold deserved better than that. Miss French was better than that.  

****

Time was running out. She threw her hair up into a messy bun--the only kind of bun her wild French hair was capable of--and put on makeup as quickly as she could. She slipped her feet into the sensible black pumps she’d gotten for the funeral and made her way out the door. 

Dad was in the kitchen, staring blankly at the microwave while it heated up a frozen dinner. He looked up when he saw her.

“You’re dressed up.”

“Yeah,” Lacey tried to stay cool. “I, uh, I have a date tonight.”

Her father’s face softened. He almost smiled. “Things back on with you and Hunter? That’s good. I always liked that kid.”

Kid was the perfect word to describe the boy Lacey had started hanging out with the summer her mom got sick. Hunter Duke and his friends were the rich kids in town, the kind of people whose parents coddled them long after they turned eighteen. Lacey’s attraction had been less to Hunter himself and more to the lifestyle he represented--being young and carefree, feeling like the world was made for you to take. Feeling like security and opportunities were inalienable rights and not something you had to work yourself to the bone to even be able to dream about. 

They had drifted apart after Mom took a bad turn in her treatment. Lacey had needed to stay closer to home--to be with Mom or at the shop--and Hunter accused her of being ‘too serious.’ They never broke up with a big fight or anything, but they knew being together was a waste of time for both of them. She wanted to be responsible and he wanted a girl who didn’t have responsibilities.

“Well, have fun,” Dad said after a moment of awkward silence. “I can open the shop in the morning, but try to be home before noon.”

Lacey gave him a tight smile. It was very weird to hear a parent acknowledge that she’d want to stay overnight at a boy’s house. When she was in school, this had been a ‘no dating until you’re married’ household. Times changed. Maybe this was her dad trying to give her a break. Maybe he understood how much she needed to feel good about things--even for just one night.

“I won’t be that late. But I am having lunch with Mara and Janine tomorrow. I’ll open, if you don’t mind me taking the afternoon off.”

Grunting, he took his dinner out of the microwave and went into the living room to watch TV.

“Oh hey,” Lacey stopped him. “When we get money again, can we hire Marco from the hardware store to fix the hot water tank?”

Dad’s expression didn’t move. “Manny’s coming by this weekend. We’re going to take a look at it.”

“Yeah well, Uncle Manny has been here to look at it a lot and the tank is still not working. I was thinking maybe if we asked a handyman instead of an auto mechanic--”

“With what money?” He wasn’t mean as he cut her off, just blunt. Just accurate. “That bastard and his late fees are going to kill any profits we might get for Valentine’s Day. Things aren’t going to get better until Easter at least.”

Things are never going to get better. 

The spiteful, bitter thought sat on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say it. Saying it wouldn’t do any good, wouldn’t tell her dad anything he didn’t know. Instead, all Lacey could do was sigh.

“Okay. Fine. Just thought I’d ask.”

He nodded, and silently plodded over to the couch and the TV. 

****   

The moment she stepped outside into a January night in Maine, Lacey regretted her decision to go without a coat. Usually, she bundled up in a hoodie and a ski jacket that kept off the wind, but that wasn’t the kind of thing Miss French would wear. Why even bother putting on a pretty dress if she was just going to cover it up with a ratty hand-me-down?

The air froze in her lungs, but she pressed on. She walked away from the shop, facing the direction Mr. Gold would be coming from on his way from the good part of Old Town. 

Officially, Storybrooke was only divided into two neighborhoods: Old Town and New Town, with Main Street in the middle. Unofficially, there was a rough dividing line in the middle of both sections that further divided them into the ‘good part’ and ‘bad part’ of each. City Hall--and Mayor Mills’ house--was in the good part of New Town. The bad part of New Town was the docks and the industrial area, where the sight and smell of Fish King Canned Foods ruled over everything. Lacey lived in the bad part of Old Town, historic slums and tradesmen's homes. Technically, she was within walking distance to the good part of Old Town, but those old-money mansions were worlds away.  

Of course that was where Mr. Gold lived. 

Headlights shone through the night as his car turned the corner. Lacey knew it was his car because of how little noise it made. It was a sleek rumble, practically a purr, an engine that was built for power and maintained with wealth. A Cadillac, her Uncle Manny liked to say, was what every other car wanted to be when it grew up. 

She waved him down and the car stopped in the middle of the street. The passenger window rolled down with electric smoothness.

“Miss French?” His voice came from the dark interior. “What are you doing outside? I said I would pick you up.”

“And you are!” Lacey maneuvered around other cars parked in the street to get to the passenger door. She heard a thunk as the door unlocked at the push of a button. Lacey slid onto the leather seat and into a velvety warmth. “God that feels good!”

Reaching over to the controls, Mr. Gold twisted a knob and turned the heat up a notch. Then he put the car in drive. 

“You know, I am a gentleman, Miss French. I fully intended to come to your door.”

Lacey rubbed her hands together in front of the vent blowing out hot air. “That might not have been a good idea,” she told him. “You’re not exactly my dad’s favorite person right now.”

“Ah,” Mr. Gold said. 

They paused at a stop sign, then Mr. Gold turned to her. “Just to be clear, Miss French, my business with your father has nothing to do with anything that happens between us tonight. Your actions and behavior won’t make things better or worse for him.”

She snorted. “I don’t know how things could get worse for him.”

“Oh there’s always a way.”

That was for sure. 

“Well, thanks for clearing the air,” Lacey said. “It’s good to know if I let you bang me it’ll be because I want to and not to save his sorry ass.”    

Mr. Gold made a noise in the back of his throat. In the moving streetlights, Lacey saw his gloved hands squeeze the steering wheel.

“Do you always offer to go to bed with men on the first date, Miss French?”

Her cheeks went hot. It had been a stupid thing to say, but it was the subtext of what he had told her! Going on this date with Mr. Gold wouldn’t help her dad out with the rent. It was just for her. If she did end up sleeping with him, that would be just for her too.    

It was nice to have something in her life that only belonged to her, something that would happen just because she wanted it to.

“Well why not?” Lacey invented a personal philosophy as she spoke it. “We’re not living in some medieval fantasy world where a girl’s virginity is her biggest asset. Consenting adults can do whatever the fuck they want, that’s what I think.”

Mr. Gold pulled into the parking lot for Bella Notte. He turned off the engine and gave Lacey a long look. Maybe the darkness gave her courage, because she just looked right back.

“Whatever the fuck they want,” he repeated softly. “Do you really want that, Miss French?”

She let out a sound even she didn’t understand, some half-laugh, half-scoff, half-sob. “Only because I’ve never had it.”

He didn’t press her on what she meant by that, which was just as well. Lacey couldn’t have put it into words--or she would have put it into too many words. She would have spilled out the entirety of her life, all the pressures and responsibilities and expectations that had once been a structure but now felt like a burden.

“Have you eaten here before?” he asked instead. 

“Just once,” she said. “It’s sort of a shame, I took one look at the menu and was so intimidated I just ordered a hamburger. It was a good burger, but I wanted to be more adventurous.”

“Adventure.” Mr. Gold sounded like he was savoring the taste of the word. “Would you like a culinary adventure, Miss French?”

“I--sure? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I would like to order for you. Do you trust me to select what you eat tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so. I’m sure you have good taste, and I’m not picky or allergic to anything. Sure, why not?”

He turned in the driver’s seat, so he was looking at her head-on. “Miss French,” he almost whispered. “Would you like to play a game?”

Lacey raised her eyebrows. “Mr. Gold plays games?” 

“Oh, all the time. This one is special because I’m going to tell you the rules before it begins.”

She licked her lips. “What rules?”

“What if you didn’t speak, once we got inside the restaurant? What if you only spoke to me the entire night?”

Her first impulse was to reject the idea, just because it sounded so out-there. But the more she thought about it, the more it began to appeal to her. Not the not-talking thing, that seemed sort of silly and arbitrary. But playing a game with Mr. Gold, that seemed like an offer she’d be nuts to refuse. He was challenging her, and she wanted to rise to his expectations. Hell, she wanted to surpass them. 

“If this is a game,” she said with fake nonchalance, “then I can win or lose, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Gold rasped. There was something in his voice now, something Lacey didn’t understand, but that she wanted more than she’d ever wanted anything. “If you do as I say the whole evening, you’ll win. If you insist on having your own way, you’ll lose.”

“If I win, does that mean you’ve lost?”

“Oh no, Miss French,” he chuckled. “If you win this game, I will reap the rewards as much as you will.”

She leaned in towards him. “What are the rewards?”

“If you win this game,” he whispered, “then after dinner is over, I’ll take you back to my place, if you like.”

Hopefully the darkness concealed how much she grinned at that prospect. “Okay,” Lacey said. “I think I’d like that very much.”

****

He opened the car door for her and offered her his arm, like something from a God-damned movie. The restaurant was crowded, but the host--or maybe it was a maitre d’--loudly announced that Mr. Gold got the best seat in the house and there was no waiting. Their table was a quiet corner booth where they could see everyone in the restaurant--and everyone else could see them. 

The other patrons nodded at Mr. Gold, but no one looked twice at Lacey. Not many people in this crowd knew her, of course. Or if they did, it was as the florist’s daughter, that kid who drove the delivery van and smiled like someone who was working for tips. They didn’t know Miss French, who stood tall in high heels and a flashy dress, who looked over their heads haughtily and refused to speak to anyone but Mr. Gold.

The first person who recognized her was their waiter. Boyd Monger was a year younger than Lacey. Storybrooke High was a small enough school that everyone knew each other regardless of what grade they were in. She saw the recognition in his eyes, saw his expression shift into genuine enthusiasm.

“Hey!” He smiled at Lacey. 

Her returning smile was tight and she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t going to lose Mr. Gold’s game so soon.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat and Boyd snapped to attention. 

“I mean, uh, good evening. Would you like to start with something to drink?”

“We’ll have a bottle of the 1983 Chateau de Marais.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Gold.” Boyd wrote the order down on his notepad. 

He turned away from the table, then stopped in his tracks. He paused for a minute, then came back looking like he had a stomach ache. 

“Lacey, you’re not twenty-one yet, are you? Can I see your ID?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Mr. Gold spoke before Lacey could even think about how to answer.

Boyd cringed, but stood his ground. “Well, actually, Mr. Gold, it-it really is necessary. It’s illegal to serve alcohol to someone under twenty-one.”

Mr. Gold made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Is Sheriff Humbert dining here tonight?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“Or District Attorney Spencer? Judge Herman, perhaps?”

“I--haven’t seen either of them.”

“Then it seems legal trouble isn’t worthy of your concern.”

“I--” There was a faint sheen of sweat on Boyd’s forehead. Lacey pressed her lips together, but didn’t say anything that might help the kid out.

“And even if you reported this infraction to an authority, do you think anyone would listen to you? I recall your credibility being somewhat strained, Mr. Monger.”

Lacey had to stop herself from laughing. Mr. Gold was referring to a bad habit Boyd used to have when he was a freshman. Every time he’d had a test he didn’t think he could pass, he would use a payphone to call the police to the school. False alarms had to be treated as credible threats, so the entire school would get evacuated while Sheriff Graham made sure everything was safe. The incident that had finally gotten Boyd caught was when he’d said Ruby Lucas was being attacked by a wolf. Since he was a kid, the paper didn’t report any names, but everyone in town knew what had happened and who was to blame. 

Boyd gave one last effort.

“Mr. Gold, I could lose my job.”

“Or you could lose your apartment.” Mr. Gold was calm, almost genial. He always seemed to be most affable when he was threatening people. “I believe your parents rent from me as well, don’t they, Mr. Monger?”

Boyd’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then he straightened up and snapped his notebook shut. “I’ll be back in just a moment with your wine, Mr. Gold.”

Lacey waited until the waiter was back in the kitchen before she let herself react. 

“Wow.” She cackled, as relieved and breathless as if she’d just come off a roller coaster. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Mr. Gold looked at the menu like nothing had happened. “Shocking, really, that Mr. Monger doesn’t seem to understand how things work in this town.”

She tilted her head at him. “How do you mean?”

He looked up from the menu, straight into her eyes. “I mean that I get what I want, Miss French.”

Lacey ignored the heat that washed over her when he said that. “He is right, though. I am underage. I mean, I’ve had booze before, but it is illegal.”

Mr. Gold shrugged, perusing the menu again. “Drive a few hours north into Canada and the age limit is nineteen instead of twenty-one. In Europe it’s even younger. Or in many countries, the sale of alcohol is prohibited to everyone. Given that context, isn’t the entire question rather arbitrary?”

“Wait a minute, you think laws are arbitrary? You with the hundred-page contracts and the sub-clauses and the penalties for minor infractions and the compounding penalties for not abiding by the first penalties?” 

He made a gesture with his hands, gracefully admitting that she had caught his hypocrisy. “But you see, Miss French, all of that goes back to my first and most important principle.”

“That you get what you want?”

“Precisely.”

****

When Boyd came back with their bottle of wine, he was too cowed to look at either of them. He showed Mr. Gold the bottle and Mr. Gold nodded his approval. After Boyd opened the bottle, he placed the cork on the table and poured a small amount into Mr. Gold’s glass. Mr. Gold swirled the wine in the glass and inhaled deeply through his nose. Then he carefully brought it up to his lips for a taste. Apparently it was good enough, because Mr. Gold nodded and Boyd set another glass in front of Lacey. He poured the wine with perfect posture and one arm behind his back.

It was all so formal, so precise, like a dance both men knew the steps to but she had never seen before. For some reason, the ritual of it put her in mind of a powerful wizard casting a spell with the help of his minion. With mundane objects, Mr. Gold ushered Lacey into a new world of enchantment. 

She opened her mouth to thank Boyd, but stopped herself just in time. She had to remember the game and not talk to anybody. Besides, Mr. Gold hadn’t thanked the waiter, so clearly Miss French didn’t need to either. 

“And have you decided on your order for this evening?”

Boyd was looking at Lacey, but she just smiled and looked at Mr. Gold. She had devoured the menu, salivating over words like “aioli” and “white truffle” and “consommé.” But they had agreed that he would order for her, so she let him. 

Mr. Gold’s mouth slid over the Italian words like he was a native speaker. The waiter wrote down everything and left.

Lacey took a piece of bread and dipped it in olive oil. “Am I allowed to know what you’re feeding me?” 

“Don’t you enjoy surprises?”

Most of the surprises Lacey had gotten in her life had been very, very bad, so she just shrugged. “If I don’t like it, I won’t eat it.”

“You’ll like it.” 

There was a warmth around him now, something relaxed and playful. It was subtle--it wasn’t like he was smiling--but Mr. Gold was always so closed off with people that the tiniest shift made a massive difference. A twinge of triumph went through Lacey at merely recognizing his good mood, let alone possibly being the cause of it. 

She picked up her wine glass and took a sip. Lacey knew exactly enough about wine to know that this was a white and that it was probably supposed to taste as terrible as it did.

Mr. Gold saw her expression. “You don’t care for it?”

Lacey swallowed and picked up her glass of water. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to beverages that taste bitter.”

“Dry is the term in wine. Yes, I suppose a girl like you would be more accustomed to sugary soft drinks.”

A girl like her. He used the phrase as an insult. Or a challenge. Maybe it was a game that Mr. Gold hadn’t told her the rules to. Maybe he wanted her to be a different type of girl. Maybe he wanted her to be a woman. She picked up her glass again.

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” She looked him in the eye before she drank. “I don’t mind bitterness.”

Sip by sip, she finished her glass, then Mr. Gold poured her another. The alcohol made her face hot, but she didn’t feel drunk. Just loose, more relaxed. It wasn’t any different from having beers on the beach with Hunter and his friends. Booze made it easier to let go of things that didn’t matter. And--when dinner arrived--the wine paired very nicely with the scallops in pesto sauce that Mr. Gold had ordered for her.

“This is so good!” Lacey desperately tried to keep from talking with her mouth full. 

“Of course it is.” Mr. Gold cut into his blackened sole. “I wouldn’t offer you anything but the best.”

Dabbing the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin helped to conceal her smile. “What makes me so deserving of that, Mr. Gold? W-why did you ask me out tonight?”

He gave her a long look. Lacey could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was figuring out what he wanted to tell her. How much he wanted to reveal of the truth.

“Miss French, I believe you have potential.”

Lacey burst out into a scoff. “Yeah. I know I do. Having potential is my curse.”

Potential. Since she’d graduated, she had come to hate that word. All she had was potential. Wasted potential. Unfulfilled potential. Potential meant working so hard and having so much promise, then abruptly finding out every single promise was a lie. 

“Tell me about that,” Mr. Gold said. “Tell me about yourself.”

It was all too terrible to think about. Too terrible and too mundane. Mr. Gold didn’t want to know about all the things her life had been but weren’t now and never would be again. She couldn’t expect him to care about her childhood hobbies, about Student Council and the Literature Club and sleepovers with Mara and Janine. All the little things that had once defined her were all gone and she was left with nothing.

“I’m empty.” Lacey shook her head. She couldn’t look at him when she said it. “All I have is a job I hate and a family that’s hurting as much as I am. Other than that, I’m just an empty vessel.” Now she looked up. He was staring at her. Their eyes locked together. “I’m waiting to be filled.” 

The lines around his mouth deepened. It wouldn’t be a grin on anyone else, but it was for Mr. Gold. It looked like she’d said the right thing.

“Like I said, Miss French, lots of potential.”

****

When they were done eating, Lacey excused herself to use the restroom. 

“Wait,” Mr. Gold stopped her before she got out of her seat. 

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Is this the part of the evening where you tell me to take off my underwear in the bathroom and hand it to you when I come back?”

He stifled a chuckle, then shook his head. “No, that part will come later. For now, Miss French, I want you to take this--” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded fifty dollar bill “--and give it to young Mr. Monger as an apology for coercing him into committing a Class D crime against the people of the great state of Maine. You may tell him this. Make sure you sound appropriately contrite.”

Lacey took the money and scanned the restaurant for Boyd. Part of her wanted to keep it for herself and lie to Mr. Gold about doing as he asked. After all, it was fifty dollars! That was more money than she’d had in her hand since the Christmas rush. It was a week of groceries for her and Dad--two weeks if the sales were right. Marco could probably fix the hot water tank for fifty bucks, if he didn’t need to buy any parts. This was an electric bill, this was a new coat.

This was one day of late fees on the rent to her building.

That thought took the wind out of Lacey’s sails. What was she doing here, with him? Mr. Gold got this money by swindling and exploiting people like her. People like Boyd. She had more in common with that idiot kid than with her actual date. An unexpected fifty could make their month and Mr. Gold tossed it away like parade candy. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just.

But she wasn’t Robin Hood. The money wasn’t hers to take. The wrongs of this world weren’t hers to right. It might be more satisfying to tell Mr. Gold where he could stick his fifties, but what would that benefit her? How would that help anyone?

Fuck it. Mr. Gold had invited her on this crazy ride, she might as well go along with him. For one night at least, she could follow his rules and obey his commands. Why not? What else did she have going on?

She found Boyd by the door to the kitchen. 

“Lacey!” he said when he saw her. “Hey, what’s going on tonight? You’ve been acting kind of weird. Is everything okay?”

It was a normal question, but Lacey heard the undercurrent, the blink twice if you need help implication. She heard the unspoken question, What are you doing here, with him?

It pissed her off. Who was this kid to offer to rescue her? Who was he to judge that she needed help? How would he know if she was acting weird? What the hell did this waiter know about Miss French and who she chose to spend her time with?

She held up the fifty between two fingers. “Mr. Gold told me to give you this.” Irritation and inner turmoil made her voice higher-pitched than normal. “He said you deserve a tip for helping to get me drunk.”

“Lacey!” Boyd hissed. He looked around to see if anyone heard. 

“Because obviously the only reason I’d be with Mr. Gold is because he forced me to. And the only way I can stand to be around him is if I’m sauced. No, there’s no way I could enjoy his company. In fact, the only reason I’m going to go back to his house and fuck him tonight is because I’m a gold-digging whore. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

“No!” Boyd’s face went twelve different colors in thirty seconds. “No, I swear Lace, I wasn’t--”

“Shut up.” Miss French spun around and tossed the fifty over her shoulder. She didn’t care if the waiter picked it up or not. 

****

She’d just got back from the restroom when that stupid waiter came and dropped off the check. He didn’t speak, or even look at them. He practically ran from the table. 

Mr. Gold regarded the waiter’s retreating form with mild amusement. “What did you do to him?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Mr. Gold: I did not make him think I was sorry.”

The lines around his mouth deepened. He pulled out a wad of bills and placed several fifties in the little black check presenter. Then he took his cane and stood up out of the booth. He extended his hand to Lacey.

“Shall we?”

She put her hand in his. It looked so big compared to hers. He helped her out of the booth. Arm in arm, they walked to the lobby.

“Stay inside a moment, I’ll bring the car around.”

“Where are you going to drive me?” she called after him.

Mr. Gold turned around. His dark eyes glinted with something between mischief and pleasure.

“My place.”  

[slafkovskys]

going shopping with kirby for new sundresses and swimsuits for a trip the two of your are taking and the whole times he’s hyping your up bc that’s his girl and she’s the prettiest person in the entire store

“i’m thinking this one for dinner on night one,” you turn your attention to your boyfriend who’s holding up a blue number. conservative, cute, something you would definitely wear. then he reaches for the rack across from him and pulls out a hot pink, backless number with straps so thin you knew that you would be messing with them the entire time you would have it on, “for night two?”

“the pink isn’t practical, kirb, but i like the blue. hold on to that one,” you hum, turning your attention back to the assortment of swimsuits in front of you. “this is cute, but i don’t love yellow on me…”

“you look amazing in yellow. get it,” kirby pops his head on your shoulder to peak at what you were looking at. “oh, it comes in purple? get that one too. did you see this green one, baby? you would look so good in it.”

requests are open for soft thoughts sunday!

[alexyskyy]

Hu tao cosplay - @alexy_sky_

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Swimsuit @miccostumes.official

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https://m.miccostumes.com/Hu-Tao-Derivative-Backless-Swimsuit-Chinese-Style-One-Piece-Hollow-Out-Bathing-Suit-with-Trumpet-Sleeve-Kimono-Haori-Cover-Up-and-Cute-Flower-Clip-161927p.html

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Wig Kasouwigs

..

Lenses @uniqso

[seb3659934]

Fun in the Sun

After his shower I make him dry himself properly.

Then I make him spread his legs and arms. Standing like a star... naked in the middle of the room.

Now I take a bottle of sun screen. Factor 100.

I gently apply the sun block over his entire body. From head to toe.

He gets very aroused when I slather it around his cock and in between his ass cheeks.

However I make him stay standing in a starfish pose...arms and legs spread, while the sun screen drys in.

His cock still standing to attention as I walk around for 10 mins getting ready in my swimsuit.

My swimsuit is a one piece backless string thong. I intend to get a nice full body sun tan while he remains as pale as ever.

After I apply a little factor 15 to my skin, I'm ready to sunbath.

I lay hubby on the bed and pull a pair of abdl swim diapers on him.

Next I dress him in a playsuit with long arms and legs to keep every inch of skin from getting any sun.

Now I put a frilly bonnet on his head and lead him outside by the hand.

I sit him in the shade where he can play with his blocks if he likes. Otherwise he can watch me. Either way he's not allowed move from the shade.

I hand him a baby bottle of juice while I pour myself a glass of wine.

Finally I take my place on the sun lounger and bask in the hot sun. Tanning every part of my body.

I smile knowing how good I'll look when I video myself pegging his white ass 😂

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue December 1965 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(top) Knitted nylon and lycra swimsuit by Bill Blass for Roxanne.

(middle)T for T strips and squares,. Knitted nylon and lycra by Bill Blass for Roxanne.

(below) One-piece swimsuit, backless, by Young Naturals, knitted in cotton and nylon Blue C (Armtex fabric)

Dynel hairpieces arranged by Ruel of Coiffures Americana.

(haut) Maillot de bain en nylon et lycra tricoté par Bill Blass pour Roxanne.

(milieu) T pour les bandes et les carrés en T,. Nylon tricoté et lycra par Bill Blass pour Roxanne.

(bas) Maillot de bain une pièce, dos nu, par Young Naturals, tricoté en coton et nylon Blue C (tissu Armtex)

Postiches Dynel arrangées par Ruel de Coiffures Americana.

Model/Modèle Marisa Berenson Photo Irving Penn vogue archive

[shop-gypsy]

This Plunging Backless One Piece Swimsuit is the perfect way to show off your curves this summer. Shop the Swimsuit- https://rb.gy/qvsles

#swimsuits #swimwear #swimwearfashion #swimweek #slim #slimming #bathingsuit #summervibes #gipsy #gipsystyle #style #ootd #fashionmusthave #shopnow

[arun-pratap-singh]

Ivana Alawi pasabog ang alindog sa unang IG post ngayong 2023

Ivana Alawi pasabog ang alindog sa unang IG post ngayong 2023

Pasabog ang alindog ni Ivana Alawi sa unang post niya sa kanyang Instagram feed ngayong 2023. Suot ang white backless swimsuit habang nasa tabi ng swimming pool, litaw na litaw ang kagandahan at kaseksihan ni Ivana. Simpleng “2023 🤍” ang caption ng IG post ni Ivana, na may mahigit sa 370,000 likes na. (GLEN P. SIBONGA) #Ivana #Alawi #pasabog #ang #alindog #unang #post #ngayong

[hueshiftersofficial]

Hue Shifters Fashion Posts: Maris Gorman

Continuing on the main characters’ fashion posts, we have one for Maris! Her style was fun to think about not going to lie, though I had a similar situation like with Coral’s where I didn’t know what exactly her style would be described as, but I think I figured it out. I hope you enjoy! :3

(The previous ones: Hyacinth, Azure, Coral)

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Maris’ style can be described as casual but with tasteful revealing elements, as growing up near the beach she is used to showing off a lot of skin. Crop-tops, tube tops, bandeus, bralettes, front-tie shirts, button-up shirts to be more professional for her dream career as a journalist, cold-shoulder rompers, two-piece short dresses, and shorts ranging from denim styles high-waisted, and loose athletic ones. Prefers halter necklines and backless styles with her tops, and usually has some sort of sheer overlay element for a sense of modesty with her shortest tops. Both growing up near the beach and being a naiad, she has quite a few swimsuits, with her favorite being a two-piece with high-waisted bottoms and a top that ties in the back. For footwear she only wears sandals, owning several in a variety of styles but her favorite includes white-strapped ones and gladiators, but she only wears those ones for special occasions.

For colors, she sticks with a fairly light and cool color palette, with a majority of her clothing being in some shade of blue. She usually opts for lighter blue shades most of the time, but she does have some pieces of clothing in darker shades. Other colors she wears include light and muted greens, green-blues, or teal, though she wears these colors mainly as accent pieces, with her preferring white over black. Material is usually light and breathable but textures vary, with her having a soft spot for lace. She comes from a middle-class family so a lot of her clothes are either hand-me-downs, bought from thrift stores, or the local stores from her hometown, but as she is currently working in a department store, she has gotten some good deals from her job to get some more expensive clothing on occasion.

For accessories, she doesn’t own too many but she does tend to wear them a lot. Her main ones include her smart watch, beaded bracelets, and beaded anklets, with her preferring shell and ocean motifs in them. She does own a couple gold cuff bracelets, and one simple gold chain necklace. Owns a few pairs of belts, usually in plain white or leather but one does have a decorative shell buckle. Has several piercings, with her preferring simple studs, but she does make an exception for gold hoop earrings and her navel piercing jewelry being a dangly gold clam shell. Although they are not an accessory as she needs them to see better due to poor vision, she does prefer wearing glasses over contacts most of time, except when swimming or some formal occasions, with her preferring thin square-shaped or horn-rimmed glasses in black or blue colors.

For her hair, it is naturally straight and she keeps it long, keeping it down most of the time but she likes putting it in ponytails, braids, or giving herself beach waves. Dealt with a little bit of acne when going through puberty, but she has managed to keep it under control and she always makes sure to keep her skin clean and moisturized. Not super into wearing makeup since it would just get washed off whenever she is under the water, but if she does wear it then she only uses water-proof products. Except for formal occasions where she would be more inclined to wear more, her normal every-day look is just mascara and lip-gloss. Doesn’t mind getting her nails done, with her keeping them short and square-shaped, and she loves experimenting with different cute beach and tropical designs. Doesn’t wear perfume or body fragrance often, but when she does she likes hers in more ocean-y or tropical scents.

- Some inspirations:

[playfulswim]

Clarise Sexy Metal Rings Cut Out Backless One Piece Swimsuit http://dlvr.it/SZdjh5