Lolita Ascending: Yami no Matsuei drabble
Title: Lolita Ascending
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Pairing: Hisoka/Tsuzuki
Summary: Hisoka gets in touch with his pretty power.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count:453
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Author’s Note: This was written for the Yami no Matsuei Anonymous Kink Meme prompt “Hisoka/Tsuzuki: Gothic Lolita!Hisoka”. I've always loved Gothic Lolita style so when I saw this prompt I totally jumped on it.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.
Lolita Ascending
Hisoka had always hated it when people told him what a lovely girl he’d make.
To him, statements like this demonstrated a fundamental ignorance of who he really was. Inside, he wasn’t cute or pretty. He wasn’t a decorative doll. He was angry, he was in pain. He was simultaneously full of a desperate need for affection, for love and at the same time terrified of letting anyone near him.
It never occurred to Hisoka that there might a quite a few girls who felt the exact same way. It never occurred to him that some of these girls might have tools he didn’t to express their internal dichotomy.
Then he saw her.
The Lolita.
He was walking down the street one day and there she was. She took his breath away.
She was a small, plump girl yet she seemed majestic, significant. She wasn’t pretty, not like he was, but she was beautiful. Her hair was tied with dozens of ribbons, braids and bows in black and blood red. She wore stripped stockings in these colors and high button pointed shoes. The skirt of her dress was a swirling cloud of layer upon layer of black lace studded with dark red ribbon roses. A tight laced up corset clinched her waist, pushed forward her breasts. Sensuous, yes, but forbidding. Something to admire but not an invitation to grope. At her throat was a choker of jet beads.
There was a power to her. To Hisoka her clothes seemed both armor and expression. In her beauty there was pain and restraint, in her choker, her corset. In her he saw himself.
He went into a Gothic Lolita shop called Spit To See Shine. Women had always wanted to dress him up. The salesgirls were no exception. For once, he let them have their way.
Hisoka waited for Tsuzuki, his hair tied in dozens of ribbons black and red. A choker around his throat, a cameo of a skull. He waited for Tsuzuki in his pointy shoes and red and black striped stockings, black satin panties, and tight lace up corset. Kohl rimmed his green cat’s eyes and his lips were painted. He had wanted Tsuzuki for so long, but he had always been afraid. Afraid of being treated like a pretty little thing, afraid of being used the way Muraki had used him. The guise of the Lolita gave him power and protection. In the clothes of the Lolita he dared to put himself forward in a way he never could have as himself.
When Tsuzuki saw, he was speechless but he understood. He fell to his knees, and slowly unbuttoned all the buttons on Hisoka’s pointy shoe then kissed his stockinged foot.
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Pairing: Hisoka/Tsuzuki
Summary: Hisoka gets in touch with his pretty power.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count:453
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Author’s Note: This was written for the Yami no Matsuei Anonymous Kink Meme prompt “Hisoka/Tsuzuki: Gothic Lolita!Hisoka”. I've always loved Gothic Lolita style so when I saw this prompt I totally jumped on it.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fan fiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.
Lolita Ascending
Hisoka had always hated it when people told him what a lovely girl he’d make.
To him, statements like this demonstrated a fundamental ignorance of who he really was. Inside, he wasn’t cute or pretty. He wasn’t a decorative doll. He was angry, he was in pain. He was simultaneously full of a desperate need for affection, for love and at the same time terrified of letting anyone near him.
It never occurred to Hisoka that there might a quite a few girls who felt the exact same way. It never occurred to him that some of these girls might have tools he didn’t to express their internal dichotomy.
Then he saw her.
The Lolita.
He was walking down the street one day and there she was. She took his breath away.
She was a small, plump girl yet she seemed majestic, significant. She wasn’t pretty, not like he was, but she was beautiful. Her hair was tied with dozens of ribbons, braids and bows in black and blood red. She wore stripped stockings in these colors and high button pointed shoes. The skirt of her dress was a swirling cloud of layer upon layer of black lace studded with dark red ribbon roses. A tight laced up corset clinched her waist, pushed forward her breasts. Sensuous, yes, but forbidding. Something to admire but not an invitation to grope. At her throat was a choker of jet beads.
There was a power to her. To Hisoka her clothes seemed both armor and expression. In her beauty there was pain and restraint, in her choker, her corset. In her he saw himself.
He went into a Gothic Lolita shop called Spit To See Shine. Women had always wanted to dress him up. The salesgirls were no exception. For once, he let them have their way.
Hisoka waited for Tsuzuki, his hair tied in dozens of ribbons black and red. A choker around his throat, a cameo of a skull. He waited for Tsuzuki in his pointy shoes and red and black striped stockings, black satin panties, and tight lace up corset. Kohl rimmed his green cat’s eyes and his lips were painted. He had wanted Tsuzuki for so long, but he had always been afraid. Afraid of being treated like a pretty little thing, afraid of being used the way Muraki had used him. The guise of the Lolita gave him power and protection. In the clothes of the Lolita he dared to put himself forward in a way he never could have as himself.
When Tsuzuki saw, he was speechless but he understood. He fell to his knees, and slowly unbuttoned all the buttons on Hisoka’s pointy shoe then kissed his stockinged foot.