#Brands For Ethnic Outfits

[shaadiwish]

Shopping For Raksha Bandhan? Check These Budget-Friendly Ethnic Outfit Brands. For More Such Trends And Ideas, Stay Tuned With ShaadiWish.

[thefashioninternstudio]

Indian Ethnic Wear brands that Celebrities swear by!

Presenting the popular Ethnic indian traditionals from the celeb closet straight to you! Focusing on smaller and popular brands, this list includes it all for you to take away inspiration for your next ethnic wear outing.

[weddingplanningblog]

Shopping For Raksha Bandhan? Check These Budget-Friendly Ethnic Outfit Brands. For More Such Trends And Ideas, Stay Tuned With ShaadiWish.

[thehubvadodara]

We know you need to revamp your wardrobe and what best time than during the 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐞? Grab the latest and trending collection of the finest of brands and look your best! Visit the store now https://www.thehub.in/ , before you miss it out! 

[anarkali-kurti-with-dupatta]

https://www.aradhyadesigner.com/

[she-is-juniper]

The Devil I Know — Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: Austin Butler x f!Reader

Type: Oneshot (i could be swayed to write more for this AU though...)

Summary: Between the two of you, Austin has always been in control. But when he denies your pleasure for his own gratification after two weeks away, you decide to make matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 7K...a monstrosity...

Rating: E (Explicit) ***18+ only. Minors DNI or you will be blocked.

Warnings: there's a lot.... Oral sex (male- and female- receiving), biting, bondage, dominant/submissive relationship, degradation, spanking, deepthroating, edging, orgasm denial, "sir" kink, power play, consensual sexual manipulation, forced orgasm (all of this is consensual)

A/N: At long last, it is here ♡ This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Austin Butler or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized. Please note that the representations of body types in my moodboard are not intended to exclude anybody of any race, ethnicity, or body shape.

And please, for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance!

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

     It all started when you and Austin Butler locked eyes from across the red carpet. And now you lived together in a beautiful house with a cute dog and a big backyard.

     Ever since you’d started dating Austin Butler, your life had turned into a dream. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had. He treated you so well, communicated with you, wasn’t shy to share his emotions. He celebrated with you, cried with you, enjoyed the little things in life with you. He whisked you away with him on travel, both for his job and for holiday: London, New York City, Bali, Rome. He kissed you in front of paparazzi without any inhibitions. He treated you as if you were a personal gift from God sent directly to him, and you loved it.

     But sometimes, dating Austin was a nightmare. Speaking facetiously, of course. But you’d never before been treated the way Austin treats you in bed. You’d never met someone with an appetite quite like his, sexually speaking. You’d never been with anyone before who was so singlemindedly determined to inflict such deliriously agonizing pleasure upon you. Austin was a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and you were at the focus. 

     Tonight, you and Austin were planning on going to a party hosted by one of the designers who worked with him on his latest project. The party was sure to be attended by all of the heavy-hitter celebrities in Austin’s circle. It was a themed party—The Devil I Know as the theme. According to one of your friends who’s planning on attending the party with her actor boyfriend, too, the name of the game for the party’s theme was red and black. You could just see it…a swath of partygoers clad in luxury leather and velvet, fur coats (faux, of course—this is Los Angeles, after all), fishnets, sleek tailored suits, chains, chokers. Think, Lucifer in luxury brands, your friend had elaborated. 

     And you had the perfect outfit. A tight-fitting number that looked more like glorified lingerie than a dress. It was the color of expensive Cabernet, with a V neckline accentuated with straps. The dress’s hemline was made of lush satin and delicate lace, under which you wore micro fishnet thigh highs and a garter belt. And of course, the outfit was elevated by decadent gold jewelry, your black Prada bag, and your trusty Louboutins. It was utterly indecent, even considering the party’s racy theme. You might as well have been wearing actual devil's horns as the cherry on top.

     But you don’t intend to leave for the party at all tonight. In fact, you had other intentions entirely for this night. Plans involving making Austin pay for what he’d done to you last night. 

     This summer, Austin had been traveling much more than usual, doing interview after interview to promote his new movie. That’s not why you want to punish him. In fact, you didn’t mind that he’d been gone more often than not lately; you’d been keeping busy with a life of your own, too.

     Last night, Austin flew back home after a two-week span away, mostly in New York. He’d wanted you to come with him on the trip, but you had work to do and had to decline. Austin was such a baby about that—he called you most every night, nearly begging you to catch the next flight to JFK and join him. You’d just laughed and told him you’d see him soon back in LA. Of course, he’d understood—but he made it clear to you every night (in the form of provocative texts and lewd photos) how badly he wanted you, needed you. 

     So when he finally returned home last night, he had two weeks worth of pent-up sexual energy. And he absolutely bombarded you…

     “Please,” you’d begged him, your voice absolutely shot with agony. Your hands strained against the handcuffs on either end of the headboard he had locked you in.

     Austin loomed over you like a stormcloud of dark desire. He had one of your legs pinned down with the weight of his own body, your other leg draped over his shoulder. And a vibrator, pulsing agonizingly slowly, pressed to your sex—enough to elicit a fine sheen of sweat on your forehead and a rivulet of moisture from your pussy, but not enough to actually get you off. 

     He smirked maniacally up at you. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

     You plead his name, trying to grind yourself against the vibrator. He brought his lips to your inner thigh and bit it gently with his perfect teeth while he turned up the setting, and you moaned in relief, finally able to lose yourself in the pleasure, which starts to grow and grow in rapid swells—

     Until he shut the vibrator off entirely. You wanted to scream in frustration, wanted to seize the toy in your own hands, but you couldn’t. And he had the audacity to grin maniacally at you.

     “Now you know how I’ve had to feel for the past two weeks without you,” he purred and did the whole thing all over again. 

     As you let last night’s memory flood your mind again, a furious warmth rushed to your core. He hadn’t let you get off that night, not once. He hadn’t given you a single thing you’d wanted. He hadn’t even given you himself—he’d made you watch while he got himself off to the idea of you being denied. And once he was done with you, you were far too exhausted physically and mentally to do anything about your neglected arousal.

     He would pay. He may have been the one in control last night, but not tonight. 

     You smirked to yourself at the thought and let your hips sway to the sound of the music playing through your AirPods as you finished washing up the last of the dishes. You were already dressed and ready to go, heels and all. It was nearly 6 pm; Austin was due home at any moment from a meeting with his agent. The plan was to leave the house by 7, get to the party by 7:45. Your clandestine agenda was to make sure that you never even left the house. 

     You suddenly felt a warm body press against your back and a pair of greedy hands slide over your waist. Those hands slid up your body, up your neck, all the way to your AirPods, and gently pulled them out so you could hear his reproving voice. 

     “You can’t possibly mean to go out like this.”

     “What?” you asked him, your red-lipped pout betrayed by the playful glint of your smokey eyes.

     And your boyfriend’s eyes, filled with barely-restrained hunger, raked down your body. God, you loved when he looked at you like that. “You look… You look…”

     “I look what?” you smirked. Austin seemed momentarily at a loss for words, and your smile only grew as you noticed the bobbing motion of his throat. You were well-aware of the sort of punishment from him this behavior would elicit. “This is the theme, isn’t it? The Devil I Know?”

     He didn’t reply. You stepped back and placed your hands on your hips, taunting him. Challenging him. His eyes followed the movement. 

     “What happened to the dress your stylist picked out?” he asked. “The one you’d texted a picture of to me last week?”

     Indeed you had a different outfit picked out last week, an elegant number by Armani, shipped straight from Italy. But you went this morning to shop for the alternative.

     “This seemed more fun,” you said dismissively.

     You had to admit, Austin looked pretty fucking debonair in his sleek suit, perfectly tailored and made of jet black satin. Your Armani dress was supposed to be his perfect match—black and black. But you hold firm, smoothing down the front of your new dress, which was just barely excusable for evening attire.

     And which was apparently was driving Austin all types of mad.

     Just as you’d planned.

     “You look…dangerous,” Austin finally finished his thought. You turned away to pat your hands dry on the kitchen towel, but you couldn’t hide your grin. 

     “Dangerous? Does that mean you don’t like it?” you simpered with concerned eyes. You already knew the answer to that.

     “I didn’t say that,” Austin muttered as a means of evading your question. But his eyes were quickly growing dark, like low-hanging clouds in the sky.

     “I guess I’ll just have to go change, then,” you purred, slowly stepping around Austin toward the bedroom. He didn’t hesitate a second to grab you gently by the arm, pulling you back.

     “Don’t change clothes,” Austin grumbled, and the rasp of his voice reeled you in like a fish on a line. You turned back to face him, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

     “So we’re going to the designers party after all, then?”

     “I think we’re going to be a bit late.”

     Whatever spell you’d cast on him was instantaneously broken. Austin pulled your hips toward him so your body was flush against his. You made a surprised sound, but your next breath was quickly stolen away by Austin’s fervent mouth against yours. His warm hand braced the back of your neck while the other snaked lower down your back, down toward the hem of your ridiculously short dress. A low growl vibrated across Austin’s chest as he touched the hidden garter belt. He gave your ass a squeeze, a motion that sent zings of warmth between your legs. 

     “Austin,” you gasped the moment he broke away. His pretty mouth was smeared with your lipstick. “I…”

     But you couldn’t finish your thought. Austin’s fingers were inching down again, tracing a line across the bottom curve of your ass. 

     “This is what you wanted, isn’t it,” he said. When you nodded, he chuckled lowly. “You devil. Such a naughty girl.”

     “If I’m the devil, then I’m right on theme,” you smirked at him. You barely registered as he guided you across the kitchen.

     “If you’re the devil, take me to hell with you.” 

     Your hip bumped against the side of the kitchen table. “You’d like it there,” you jested. “Nice place. Gets quite hot in the summertime, though.”

     The jokes were over, though. In one swift motion, Austin spun your body around so you were facing away from him. The next thing you knew, he bent you over at the waist, and your chest was pressed against the dining room table, arms splayed out in front of you.

     Oh.

     “We really are gonna be late, aren’t we,” you giggled, tilting your head to the side to face him. Austin stepped back for a brief second, his breath catching in his throat. What a sight you must have been…your backside shining up at him over the edge of the table, your dress—already so damn short—riding up your hips, revealing the prize hidden beneath.

     You arched your back, eager to show Austin all you had to offer—when Austin’s phone rang on the table.

     “Fuck,” Austin grumbled, straightening up.

     “Better get that,” you teased, letting your gaze fall conspicuously to the tent in his trousers. 

     Austin gave you a venomous glare as he answered his phone. It must be his agent again. He stalked into the kitchen, murmuring softly into the phone. He took a paper towel and wet it with water from the sink to wipe off the lipstick from his face, glancing back at you reproachfully a couple of times. You smiled to yourself, satisfied.

      By the time the call was over, Austin stalked back into the dining room, you’d perched yourself on the table, your fishnetted legs crossed.

     “We told Alexandra we’d be there at 7:45,” you reminded him, your voice sing-songy. “Reckon we should get going. Don’t you think?”

     Austin didn’t answer your question. “I didn’t say you could get up,” he said.

     “You didn’t say I had to stay there, either.” You met his angry scowl with a wicked smile. All your teasing was working. The storm brewing in Austin’s eyes was growing more and more turbulent.

     “Y/N,” he warned. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and you weren’t about to give it to him so easily.

     “I can think of a dozen better positions, anyway,” you purred and beckoned for him to come close. He stayed back, but the second you uncrossed your legs and spread them wide, some of the steely resolve in his eyes seemed to dissolve. You took advantage of his moment of weakness and reached for his silk collar, already unbuttoned at the top two buttons. You pulled him to you, between your spread legs. He couldn’t resist.

     “Let’s make this quick,” you continued, grasping his stubbled chin with your other hand. “We have a party to go to, after all.”

     You brought his mouth to yours and kissed him, slowly and voluptuously, indulging yourself in the sweet taste of his lips. Your lips spoke one thing, but your intentions spoke another. If you played your cards just right, this ordeal wouldn’t be quick at all—it would be excruciatingly drawn out, which was precisely what you wanted. Reverse-psychology. It worked like a charm, every time. 

     Sure enough, just as Austin was beginning to lose himself in your kiss, he stiffened and pulled away. You barely had a chance to register what he was doing before he grabbed your hands, pulled you off the table, flipped you around, and bent you over once more.

     “Oh,” you grunted as Austin pressed your cheek into the table, hard. The action was careful but rough, and you loved it. 

     “I’ll decide how I want to take you,” he snapped. The hand on your head moved to your hairline, smoothing it back and away from your face. His other hand pressed heavily into your upper back, keeping your torso firm into the table. You could feel his pelvis against your ass, and upon assessing how hard he was through his trousers again, you bit your lip in anticipation. This was Austin’s favorite position. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t yours, too. But you weren’t about to admit that.

     Austin’s hands moved down the sides of your body. You felt him grind a little against your ass. You moved, too, appreciating the low “fuck” that came from his mouth as you arched your back toward him.

     “Everyone’s going to ask where we are,” you said, still moving your hips.

     “Don’t care.” Austin’s hands reached the hem of your skirt. “This is all you’re wearing underneath?” he asked as he pinched the thin straps of your garter belt. No underwear. You yelped as he let it snap back against your skin. Austin tsked. “Can scarcely believe you wanted to show up to a designer’s party like this.”

     “I can wear what I want to wear, thank you very much,” you grumbled half-heartedly. Austin’s touch became feather-light as he traced a line down the backs of your thighs. You realized he was moving to kneel on the ground behind you.

     God. You pressed your legs together, almost embarrassed by how wet you felt, how there was no underwear there to stop it from gliding down your inner thighs.

     Austin saw you squeeze your legs together and gently guided them back apart. “That you can, love,” he murmured, his words deliberate, calculating. “You can wear whatever you’d like.”

     “Then what—” You cut yourself off, swearing. Austin’s finger was circling a spot on your pussy, right at your entrance, where you knew the wetness has seeped. There was no hiding your arousal now, not with his face right there.

     “Going out with you looking like this,” Austin continued, pressing his fingers against you more firmly now. “I wouldn’t be able to contain myself at that party. And you knew it.”

     “You seem like you can hardly contain yourself now,” you mocked, a derisive edge to your tone. It seemed to fuel some furious energy within him. Austin growled again, pinching the insides of your thighs so hard you felt like your knees might buckle.

     “You know I don’t like being provoked, darling,” he scolded you. His face was so close to your body now that you could feel his hot breath fanning out over your thighs. “Better curb that attitude of yours. Or else I’m going to have to fuck it out of you.”

     Which was precisely what you desired. You wanted him, and you wanted it rough. But you played the game anyway.

     “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, finally showing your submissive side. The non-bratty, submissive side. But Austin pinched you again, and you couldn’t contain the breathy moan that spilled from your lips.

     “What was that?” he chided. 

     “I’m sorry, sir.”

     “That’s more like it.” He spanked you then, lightly, but the action was so unexpected that you yelped and arched your back. “Tell me, darling, who’s in charge here?”

     You tried to answer, but with the way he was suddenly caressing your thighs so lightly was bringing goosebumps all over your skin, and you couldn’t find the words.

     “Y/N,” Austin murmured. He smacked your ass again, harder this time. Your body flushed with heat and desire. “Answer me. Who’s in charge? You or me?”

     “You, sir,” you gasped. “You’re in charge.”

     And he was—at least outwardly. But he was a fool for not realizing quite the extent to which you had him wrapped around your little finger.

     “Good girl.”

     You played the game the way he wanted, and you arched your back, eager for your reward. And Austin, who started kissing his way up the insides of your legs, seemed just as eager to give it to you. 

     This was how it worked with Austin. You rile him up a bit, then you back down and submit just enough to give him what he wants, and then you rile him up again. Rinse and repeat. You wondered when, if ever, he’d catch onto the pattern.

     But you’d worry about that later. Right now, Austin’s mouth was preoccupying your thoughts. 

     Gradually, he kissed his way up, up, up. When he finally reached his destination—the summit between your thighs—he planted an open-mouthed kiss to the place you were the most wet. You moaned at the onslaught of heat from his mouth. His stubble—he hadn’t shaved for a few days—scraped against the sensitive skin of your thighs and your ass. You couldn’t get enough. Nor could Austin, it seemed. He seemed impatient to taste you.

     “So goddamn wet.”

     He spanked you again, and you knew there was going to be an angry red spot on your ass for the next few hours. He flipped the hem of your dress up onto your back so it was out of the way and slapped his hand to your ass once more. You shifted, uncomfortably turned on, desperate to feel the heat of Austin’s mouth again. 

     “Remind me our safeword again,” Austin asked you.

     You wanted to answer right away, but the tickle of a single finger circling right at your entrance replaced your words with a high-pitched moan.

     "Y/N, safeword," he prompted again.

     “‘Stop,’” you recited in a gasp.

     As instructed, Austin withdrew his finger.

     “No, don’t stop,” you corrected yourself. Austin chuckled. You and he decided right at the beginning of your relationship that the best safe word was the only one that truly only had one meaning: stop. God, you couldn’t imagine stopping now. The establishment of the safe word gave you both a sense of reassurance, however, that seemed only to perpetuate the passion between you two. But stopping was the last thing you wanted right now.

     “Just checking to see if you remembered.”

     Austin buried his face between your legs from behind. 

     A moan bubbled out from your throat, followed by another, and another. You felt your knees threaten to give out again, but Austin’s arms, wrapped securely around your thighs, steadied you.

     He felt unreal. The sounds his mouth was making against your pussy were obscene as he lapped at you, a feeling of silky smoothness and warmth coupled perfectly with the roughness of his beard. The thought of him burying his whole face in your ass, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his dick jumping to life in his trousers… fuck, it was going to be the death of you.

     And just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any better, a sensation like no other sent jolts of electric desire across your body—his tongue slipping inside you.

     “Austin, fuck, I—fuck,” you panted. Your hands raked across the wooden table, desperate for some kind of purchase, for something to grab onto. They found nothing. You were slowly but surely beginning your spiral toward an orgasm, a realization that nearly alarmed you—he’d only just started with you.

     And you knew he didn’t like it when you came too quickly. 

     Yet, he did not let up. He gently pulled your legs apart even further, and as his tongue slipped in and out of you, his deft fingers zeroed in on your clit.

     “Don’t come until I say so,” Austin instructed.

     Fuuuuuck.

     He worked you into a gasping, moaning, dripping mess. You don’t know when his mouth had moved from your pussy, but you saw stars as you felt his tongue against your asshole—holy fucking shit, you could come just from the sensation. As minutes passed, you were gradually losing your grip on reality. Your climax was approaching sure and strong now. While your mind fought against it, knowing what would happen if you let go too soon, a veil of primal lust overshadowed every rational thought.

     You had only one choice, and that was to sit here and take it and chase your high. 

     And Austin knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to you; he was setting you up for failure. He wanted you to come too early. He wanted to punish you. 

     “Baby, please, I—I can’t, I’m—Austin,” you cried in a dazed moan. His other hand had slipped inside your pussy while his mouth was preoccupied. This wasn’t fair. He really wasn’t letting up. He pulled his head away just enough to bite the skin of your upper thighs, gently, but enough that you could feel his teeth. His fingers moved faster and faster on your clit, giving you absolutely no way to come down. There was nothing to do to stop the approaching orgasm on the horizon.

     “Hold off for me, baby,” he encouraged. “You can do it. Don’t give in, not yet.”

     Edging. He wanted to edge you, again. But you wouldn’t have any control this time. And you didn’t want him to stop.

     “Austin, I can’t,” you keened. Reaching around behind you, your hands finally found something to hold onto—Austin’s head, keeping him in place against your ass. You cried out and buried your fingers in his hair, pressed his face into you.

     And that was it. You were past the point of no return.

     Austin’s fingers slowed as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. You felt your desire swell over you like a tsunami, and your whole body convulsed in response. Your moans peaked in volume and pitch as you thrashed against his touch. It was so good, so fucking good, that you couldn’t think about what was happening, what you’d just done. 

     You fell limp against the kitchen table. It was over.

     You lied there gasping for breath. Time had stopped and restarted itself. Droplets of moisture—a mixture of Austin’s saliva and your own pleasure—rolled down your thighs.

     Austin stood up and said nothing, but your mind was still too hazy to turn and face him. You heard him make a small, exasperated sound. But he was silent.

     You took a shaky breath. “That wasn’t…” You gulped, your throat dry. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

     “Stand up,” Austin said bluntly. You took your time to heave yourself up from the table and turned to face him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was a sight to behold…his hair mussed up, his cheeks flushed, his mouth glistening with your wetness. Despite his facade of disappointment, you could tell by the way his pupils were blown wide that he was absolutely ravenous about what just happened.

     “I’m sorry, sir,” you said in a quivering voice. As if to discount your words, an aftershock came across you, and you jolted and sighed. Austin watched the brief shudder run through your body. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

     “You know the rule about coming,” he chastised.

     “I—”

     “Only good girls get to come,” he continued. You saw his hands, which rested on his hips, twitch toward the center of his hips. “And only when I say so. I didn’t say you could come yet, Y/N.”

     Normally, you’d make some kind of bratty comment that you were well aware of his stupid rule, but the implication of his words made you shudder again. 

     “I didn’t mean to, baby,” you said quickly as you squeezed your thighs together. “I just couldn’t…I couldn’t resist.”

     “Couldn’t resist?” You didn’t miss the way Austin took a small step toward you. “Well. If you couldn’t resist coming, love, that was your decision. But you know the rule. You leave me no choice.”

     “I know,” you said, hanging your head, although your body buzzed like a live wire. Austin lifted your chin to his with a single finger. His eyes were bright beneath his heavy lids.

     “Such a filthy girl. My dirty little slut. Down on your knees,” he demanded. “Now.”

     You resisted the urge to drop to your knees right away; instead, you took your time, playing the role of reluctance. Once you settled into a kneel, you blinked up at Austin with a doe-like gaze.

     An angel wearing the devil’s clothes. At least, that’s what you were going for.

     It worked. Austin’s face softened a bit, and he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. That same thumb came to your mouth, dragging across your bottom lip. Your lipstick was probably everywhere, but that’s exactly how he liked it. 

     “I love you,” Austin mouthed. A check-in, you knew. The slightest of role-breaking. But it was enough. You just bit your lip and smiled coyly, whispering it back response.

     And then his hands were fumbling with the belt on his pants. You waited patiently as he unbuttoned and unzipped, and as he guided his trousers off his hips, you helped. Austin’s briefs looked uncomfortably tight. With those, he let you take the reigns with pulling them off.

     His throbbing erection emerged and sprung out, hard as a metal rod. God, after all this time, and you’ll still never get over his cock and the fact that it was yours. You squeezed your thighs at the familiar sight.

     His phone rang—again. “Don’t answer it,” you told Austin.

     “Wasn’t planning on it,” Austin murmured as he pumped himself a bit. “You look too fuckin’ gorgeous down there.”

     “You want me, baby?” you asked him. 

     “Always,” he answered. You licked your lips in anticipation. “C’mere.” He beckoned you, and you crawled closer to his legs, eyes glued on his manhood. Desperate to help him out, you brought your hands up to his, but he swatted them away. “Hands by your sides.”

     You did as you were told.

     “Fuck,” he whispered. “There’s my good girl.”

     You smiled. It really was that easy.

     Austin kept jerking himself gently off with one hand and brought his other to cares your cheek. You sat up straighter and parted your lips. “Open up wider, baby. Show me your tongue.” You did, and Austin cursed again. You inched your head closer to his cock, breathing through your mouth so he could feel how warm you were. 

     “Doing such a good job listening to me,” he said. “Almost makes me feel bad about having to punish you.”

     “Please punish me, sir,” you pleaded. “I deserve it.”

     “You want this dick, darling? You want me?” When you nodded, he said, “Need to hear you say it, Y/N.”

     “Yes, please, I want you. So bad.”

     “Good.” He started moving his hips toward you, and secured his hand to the back of your head. He tilted the tip of his cock toward your open mouth. “I’ll give it to you, baby.”

     You kept your eyes locked on Austin’s as he slowly, slowly slid his member between your lips.

     A guttural sound came from the back of his throat. As you took more and more of him, inch by inch, his eyelids fluttered and his throat bobbed.

     “Shit,” he groaned. The hand around the back of your head stiffened into a fist around your hair. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m—fuck.”

     You closed your eyes, tasting him. Salty, but clean. Undeniably Austin. You loved this. You loved getting punished. Maybe he’d catch on one day that this was why you acted out so often. It wasn’t much of a punishment when you loved it this much.

     Austin was so deep now that he filled your whole mouth. You wrapped your lips around his shaft, and sucked, gently, just a little. But at the sight of your puckered red lips and hollowed cheeks, Austin let his head fall back with a loud moan.

     The hand on your head guided you, but it wasn’t like you really needed it. You knew exactly what to do. You pulled away slowly, letting the bottom of the head drag along your tongue, and then pushed it right back into your mouth. Again, and again, and again. With each thrust, you let him hit the very edge of your throat, right at the soft palette. And it was driving Austin insane. 

     “Fuckin’ take it, baby,” he groaned. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. God, you feel so fucking good.”

     He was likely too distracted now to notice if you move your hands. Grasping the base of his dick, you pumped him with your hand while your head moved. Austin’s hand fell from the back of your head, and by the dazed look on his face, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. Literally.

     Just when you were getting into a groove, you pulled all the way off of him with an obscene sound, a string of saliva and precum stuck on your tongue. He was so swollen he was almost purple, and the lipstick marks all over his shaft was a delightful sight. You gave your mouth a rest and worked him with your hands, spreading the slickness all over his shaft before jerking him off. Responsive as always, Austin let a stream of groans and praises fall from his parted lips. 

     You wondered if he could tell how much you love this, this punishment. Your enthusiasm couldn’t be mistaken, surely. He looked like he needed some love elsewhere, so you dipped your head and kissed his balls. He yelped a little in surprise as you sucked them ever so gently, and then licked a long stripe up from the base of his shaft to the very tip of his head. 

     There, you tasted the fresh droplets of precum that had accumulated there from your ministrations. Austin breathed in a shaky gasp as you flicked your tongue along the most sensitive place on the underside of his head. 

     “Jesus Christ,” he swore.

     His phone buzzed with a series of texts.

     You gave him a wry look, wrapping your lips around just the tip, and to your surprise, he seemed not to have even noticed his phone. Which was good. There was no way you were stopping things now. You knew you were skilled at this, and you knew you were working him to his limit, which is why you didn’t have much time. Pretty soon, he’d be pushing you off of him to prevent himself from coming too soon, to buy himself enough time to fuck you properly.

     What he didn’t know is that you wanted his cum in your mouth, all over your lips, dripping down your throat.

     And you had the perfect trick up your sleeve to get what you wanted.

     Sure enough, as soon as you started bobbing on his cock again, Austin squeezed your shoulder. “Slow down, darling,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

     Not a chance. You smirked around his cock and didn’t slow down one bit. He seemed to lose the words to ask you again to slow down. You moved with new vigor and brought your hand to the base of his shaft, moving it along with your mouth.

     “Y/N,” Austin moaned—a panicked warning. His hand squeezed your shoulder again. You knew he knew the safe word. But he wasn’t using it.

     You hollowed your cheeks and sucked as you bobbed on him, just the way he liked it, just the way you knew would make him start falling apart. It was working. Austin’s back arched and his breaths grew shallow and strained. Between your lips, you could feel him swell.

     “Y/N, please,” he gasped, and you raised an eyebrow at the pretty word from his lips. Please. His hand, squeezing your shoulder, pushed you away gently, but the movement was weak. Indecisive. He didn’t want to push you away.

     It was time you pulled that perfect trick out from your sleeve. Relaxing your throat just the way you’d practiced, you brought your hands to Austin’s ass and pulled his hips toward you—all the way. His cock hit the soft, warm place at the back of your throat. You breathed in and out with steady, calm breaths through your nose. 

     “I…I can’t…Y/N, you—fuuuuuuck!”

      You took all of him, every inch. His cock slid down the back of your throat.

     Through your watery eyes, you looked up at Austin and saw the disoriented astonishment on his face. And oh, how you wished you could capture the disoriented astonishment on his face in your memory forever. He looked as if he’d never experienced anything like this, ever. 

     Nor had you. It was a novel feeling to take him so deeply like this. Your throat burned slightly as his girth stretched it out, but you’d been expecting it. You’d preparing for this. No amount of preparation could have done any justice to the primal emotions it unlocked to be pleasuring him so intimately. You liked the way it felt, Austin filling your throat like this, spit dribbling down your chin—not to mention his reaction.

     Relaxing your throat as much as possible, your lips hit the base of Austin’s shaft, the tip of your nose poking his pelvis. Austin gasped out, a choked sound. His eyes darted about, but then you hummed against his cock, and any deliberation he’d had was gone. His hips jolted at the vibration from your throat, and you gagged a bit around him, but you didn’t care. You could handle it. A stream of curses came from his mouth as your throat vibrated while he was still deep inside you.

     You swallowed around him, the muscles of your throat contracting. You knew he could feel everything. 

     “Y/N,” he nearly sobbed your name out. His voice was so weak, almost broken. You’d broken him. “I… Please don’t stop… I’m gonna…I’m…”

     You didn’t stop. 

     Austin’s whole body went rigid and his hips stuttered. You held him steady as his cock pulsed, and with one loud moan, Austin couldn’t stop himself. He went over the edge. You pulled out a bit and braced yourself. His knees nearly giving out, Austin arched into you and released the tension in his body. You felt his whole cock surge and pulse as he came down your throat in thick, hot spurts.

     You swallowed everything.

     As you slowly slid yourself off his cock, gasping for breath, spit covering your mouth, Austin nearly lost his balance. He leaned against the edge of the table, still panting, still unable to say anything. You wiped your mouth in satisfaction.

     Seconds passed. Neither of you said a word until you caught your breath and Austin caught his grip on reality. He met your eyes, absolutely bewildered.

     “What?” you finally asked, and you couldn’t keep the smug undertone from your voice. 

     “I—” he stammered, but he couldn’t finish. He looked away. He was suddenly like a completely different person, embarrassed and shy and blushing and still completely stupefied. His cheeks were still flushed with desire. He hadn’t bothered to pull his trousers back up, and frankly, he was still rock hard. 

     “What’s wrong, baby?” you cooed as you got to your feet. You made a show of pulling up your thong, smoothing down your skirt, fixing your jewelry. 

     “You… When did you learn to do that?” he whispered, dumbfounded, unable to meet your gaze again. 

     You smirked. “What do you mean?” you asked innocently. 

     “With… With your throat,” he clarified, almost angrily. 

     You tittered. “Oh, that? Just a little something I’ve been practicing.” You cocked your head devilishly. “Didn’t you like it, baby?”

     “I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t… I mean, I… I did, it’s—it’s just, I didn’t mean to… That wasn’t…”

     “…Supposed to happen?” you completed his sentence, your voice taunting, jesting. The same words you’d told him when you’d come too early. “Aw, honey. It’s okay.”

     Austin finally looked at you again. He was finally regaining his focus, and suddenly, a glimmer of frustrated realization shone in his eyes.

     It was as if you could watch the exact moment he realized what had happened. He realized that you’d been planning it to go your way all along. 

     “Y/N,” he said, but whatever threat he’d tried to muster up in his voice was empty. 

     Before you could reply, your own phone buzzed on the kitchen island. You didn’t hesitate to retrieve it.  

     “Hello?” you answered, sauntering back over to Austin. “Oh, Alexandra! Hi!” 

     His eyes trailed on you as you talked on the phone.

     “Yeah, I’m so sorry, we’re just running a bit behind. We haven’t left yet.”

     You let your eyes fall to Austin’s lap. He blushed a deeper shade of red, realizing, and pulled up his boxer briefs and trousers.

     “You think it’ll be okay if we show up late?...Oh, great. That’s wonderful. See you soon. Okay, bye.”

     You hung up. Austin said nothing. 

     “Alright, then,” you said cheerily. “Alexandra says almost everyone is showing up late, so as long as we’re there by 9, we’re golden.” Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure how the night would pan out. Your original plan was to make Austin stay so late with you that the party wouldn’t even be an option. But if you could still show up fashionably late, so be it. 

     Austin stared. You patted his thigh endearingly, almost demeaningly. “Let’s get to it. We’re already late.”

     You turned to stroll away toward the bedroom, but Austin grabbed your arm. He glowered at you but didn’t say anything. 

     “Are you going to let me go anytime soon?” you said lightly after a long moment. “I need to go clean up, unless you want me showing up looking like I just deepthroated your cock.”

     He jolted in surprise at your words. A few seconds later, he let you go. “You’re going to pay for this later,” he said, but it was more of a stammer than a warning. 

      You smiled through your eyelashes, rubbing at your bottom lip absentmindedly. And then you turned away from Austin, letting your hips sway as you ambled in the direction of the bedroom. Little did he know that “paying for it later” was part of your plan all along, too.

————————————————

Author’s Note: ...So are y'all sweating as much as I am, or...?

Thank you so much for reading! This is probably the filthiest thing I've ever written, and I'm not sorry about it.

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

For fanfic, blurb, or headcanon requests about Elvis, Austin Butler, or Stranger Things, please let me know via my ask box!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

[eyesprout]

SIM DUMP - TEEN GIRLS REDONE ...! ♫꒰･‿･๑꒱

DOWNLOAD: HERE (1.22 GB Mediafire)

they all have likes and dislikes, tray files with cc and overrides included + more info under the cut. Install and change whatever you want.

they all have 4 traits with the more traits mod and some have custom traits by Kuttoe and custom aspirations - if you don't use those, their original traits & etc are below so you can change them in your game.

1. Brielle Rowan (she/her) Traits: cheerful, snob, bookworm, proper Master of Mysticism Apiration Dark Academia Lesbian 2. Christian Grant (she/they) Traits: Active, Self-Assured, Geek, Childish City Native Aspiration Demigirl Bi-Ace Goth Jock 3. Amelia Brand (she/her) Traits: Neat, Self Absorbed, Calm, Perfectionist Drama Llama Aspiration Straight With Issues 4. Amber Winters (she/her) Traits: Gloomy, Geek, Loner, Clumsy Hardcore Gamer Aspiration "Femcel" Bisexual Internet Microcelebrity 5. Dal Ahmad (she/they) Traits: Creative, Art Lover, Music Lover, Dance Machine Music Producer Aspiration Bisexual Desi Trans Girl into Vaporwave

EXTRA: They might look different if you have other defaults/overrides: my default eyes are by pirumxsim, I use bare skintones, and the rosewater default skin. They also have likes and dislikes from preferences plus and use certain slides. They use mostly cc in all their outfit categories but some packs are also used.

Feel free to edit anything about them, just don't change their ethnicity/weight/gender/sexuality but anything like aspirations, traits, fashion, vibe and clothes etc is ok! Please be smart about what cc you take from the download and put in your game!

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's Masterlist

ꕥ Stage name: CHAERI

ꕥ Birth name: Kang Chaeri

ꕥ Hangul: 채리

ꕥ Meaning: Cherry

ꕥ Nicknames: Chérie

ꕥ Birthdate: December 17, 1998

ꕥ Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius. Instead, according to the Korean/Chinese horoscope she was born under the sign of the Tiger

ꕥ Birthplace: Jeju-Do

ꕥ Places where she lived: Jeju-Do; Paris

ꕥ Ethnicity: Korean

ꕥ Languages: Fluent in Korean and French. Currently learning English and Japanese at a higher level than school level

ꕥ Height: 163cm - 5’4 feet

ꕥ Weight: 45kg 

ꕥ Blood type: AB Negative

ꕥ Education: Home-schooled

ꕥ Position: Main dancer, Lead vocalist, Maknae

ꕥ Debut: June 13, 2013

ꕥ Debut age: 14 1/2 years old | 15 1/2 years old in Korean age

ꕥ Trainee period: Almost 1 year

ꕥ Instagram: bts.bighitofficial (official) | chaeri (individual)

ꕥ Twitter: bts_twt (official)

ꕥ YouTube: BANGTANTV

ꕥ Relationship status: Taken 

ꕥ Family members: Kang Dal (Brother) 달 Kim Eun (Mother) 은 Kang Si-u (Father) 시우

ꕥ Close friends (outside the company): Yeri (Red Velvet) Soojin ( (G)I-DLE ) Mingyu, The8 and Vernon (SEVENTEEN) Chan ( A.C.E. )

ꕥ MBTI: ENFJ-T; Turbulent Protagonist

ꕥ Personality:

◌ Sensitive to the problems of others;

◌ Not comfortable dealing with emotions and stress. This help tho to empathize more deeply with others who are having trouble dealing with similar things;

◌ Charismatic and natural leader;

◌ Likely to ask for an opinion but unlikely to change their minds;

◌ Hothead;

◌ Outgoing and friendly;

◌ Rebellious;

ꕥ Known for: 

Being the only girl in a group that was supposed to have only boys;

Daughter of a former Prima Ballerina of the Paris Ballet;

Being best friends with Red Velvet’s Yuri;

Being able to dance any style;

Being overly spoilt by her bangtans’ brothers;

Taking pics everywhere she goes;

Becoming a trainee and debuting within a year;

Loving wine, like a lot (and sparkling cocktails too);

Being the first member of BTS to officially announce to be in a relationship;

Being one of the idols who changes the most outfits during a single show;

Being the other half of V (platonic);

Being the enthusiastic caretaker of the group;

Being very flexible;

Being among the best idol dancers of her generation;

Being one of the most influential women representing South Korea;

Creating her own fashion brand as a solo business. It's labeled ‘JEONG'.

Fans freaked out by the coincidence that the brand name and Jeon Jungkook's name are almost the same, but in fact most Armys seems to not to believe in coincidences. The word 'Jeong', which is untranslatable in other languages, can, however, be traced back to the Korean word for 'connection'. It is an emotional and psychological bond. It should be pointed out that it is not us who experience 'Jeong' but it is the ‘Jeong’ that makes us connected to another person, to an animal, to a place. Her brand logo ↓

ꕥ Facts:

◌ She was named Chaeri because during the pregnancy her mother was always craving cherries

◌ According to BTS managers, Chaeri is good at negotiating and making counterproposals to reach a meeting point between the request (of the managers) and the solution (what she would like to do instead)

◌ She studied ballet (and other dance styles in the background) from the age of 3 until she was 13, international age. Being the daughter of a prima ballerina, her mother expected a bright future from her in that.

◌ Her parents separated shortly after her birth. Her mother could not bear the fact that her husband's plans to start a world-famous restaurant chain had gone up in smoke. So she left with her two children for Europe, Paris, to make them study ballet professionally and settle there full-time.

◌ In an interview, Chaeri explains how she found herself having to ask the hyung line, rather than her parents, for permission to do or not do certain things during her teenage years. When asked who among them was most likely to let her do what she wanted, her answer was J-Hope

◌ She left Paris at the age of 13 to live again with her father in Jeju-do, deciding to leave ballet for good and devote herself to dance styles that more reflected her wishes. She doesn't like to talk about the real reasons why she left Europe

◌ Her fashion brand, JEONG, is based solely on the creation of couples' clothing and matching outfits

◌ She has a high level of stamina as long as she is in the middle of something, when she stops she suddenly feels fatigue crushing her

◌ During the first months of living with the BTS members, the thought of having to sleep in a single room with seven men made her completely uncomfortable, yet she feared hurting their feelings by expressing this concern since everyone had been kind and helpful to her from the start. That is why, for months, she would let them all fall asleep before leaving the room and positioning herself on a folding chair in the small, messy living room. One night, after a while, she found herself simply falling asleep in her bed before the others did, and the next morning, she finally realized that she felt safe surrounded by those boys and that sleeping with them would not turn out to be so bad.

◌ Her brother, Dal, is three years older than her. Their relationship is troubled as he is still on good terms with their mother and she is not.

◌ She has known Chan, a member of the group A.C.E., since before they both debuted

◌ She was home-schooled by a tutor in both France and Korea during her teenage years. When both of her parents agreed to sign their daughter's contract with Big Hit, as she was a minor, her mother made it clear to the company that she wanted her daughter to continue home-schooling or she would not have accepted the agreement. Therefore, unlike Jungkook, she did not attend SOPA or any other art schools. In several videos, Chaeri can be seen, at the oddest moments, alongside a man with a censored face intent on studying or transcribing something. The name of the Korean tutor has never been revealed

◌ During her periods of rebellion she always justified herself by saying that since she was home-schooled, those were her only opportunities to be unreasonable and that they should have dealt with that

◌ She is completely comfortable with her feminine vibes

◌ As soon as she became adult enough, she made it very clear to the company that she wanted to abandon that uniquely soft image they were propagating of her and begin to define her identity as a Woman

◌ She is in a relationship with Ateez’s captain, Hongjoong. Although she feels great affection towards him, she is sure that if her first love was not a forbidden love, nothing would have ever clicked between them. In a private conversation, when asked by Taehyung if that was the kind of love she was looking for, she replied that 'he calms her mind’. The couple is much loved by fans and tabloids

◌ Her father is her number one fan

ꕥ Hobbies: ◌ Aerial yoga ◌ Snowboarding ◌ Designing clothes for her brand, she enjoys it so much that she won't call it a duty ◌ Any reckless sport

ꕥ Her top 5 songs: ♪ Obsessed - Mariah Carey ♪ Tous les Mêmes - Stromae  ♪ Gotta go - Chung Ha ♪ Moth to a flame - The Weeknd ♪ Love shot - EXO

ꕥ Face claim: mostly @/kkmmmkk on IG + other female idols when needed

[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

Photoshoot: Spring Style

Spring is in and those of us who hate the cold are celebrating! I'm also celebrating because Harvey recently posted this gorgeous photoshoot he did with Toronto-based photographer Kye Mack (Instagram, website), where he's sporting a very springy outfit, and the vibes are immaculate.

Warm Pallet, Cool Vibes

I'll be honest, spring is also not my favorite season. I'm not a spring hater, but I much prefer the in-your-face heat and brightness of summer or the cool, golden crispness of fall to anything spring has to offer. Also, I have allergies, so the months of March to May must be enjoyed through a haze of heavy-duty antihistamines. But I digress!

One other thing I'm not usually crazy about in spring is the fashion. Spring tends to be when the pastels and cool tones dominate, and I'm simply not a fan. Lilac, coral, mint...I like my colors saturated and on the neutral to warm side, what can I say?

All that being said, I love this outfit! The crocheted top seems so breezy and comfortable, and those warm colors look amazing on Harvey. The stripes add definition and structure, with their placement almost evoking the "cartoon in real life" trend which has been all over artistic spaces from makeup to clothing to cake decoration.

Against the warm, almost autumnal colors of the shirt, the bright pop of teal from the slacks really stands out. The choice of a bright, jewel-toned shade is so perfect to match with the warmth of the shirt's pallet while still pulling those warm tones more toward the beach than toward falling leaves and pumpkin spice.

Hair & Makeup

For the grooming in this shoot, Harvey credits Toronto-based makeup artist Holly Jones (Instagram, website), who describes herself as "a firm believer that makeup has no boundaries" and only uses "cruelty free brands and brands that cater to any age, ethnicity or gender."

I love that! I feel like this is another great example of the way that Harvey consistently works with artists who share or reflect aspects of his own style ethos. And the styling here is absolutely gorgeous! The loose, tousled curls and golden glow really sell the windblown, just-in-from-a-springtime-walk vibes.

Affordable Options

Crochet Textured Shirt - The shirt Harvey wears appears to be from Zara. It meets my "under $100" affordability requirement at $69.90 and comes in sizes up to a men's Large. The site also offers a list of options with similar vibes that go up to men's XL, with prices ranging from $45.90 to $69.90.

For the teal slacks, I couldn't determine the exact brand of the pants from the little showing in the photo, but they appear to be slacks similar in color and fabric to these from Dolce Vita Men, a brand that describes itself as "affordable luxury menswear." Their definition of affordable and mine are vastly different, however, with these pants clocking in at $1,228.08.

It was difficult to find that exact shade of jewel-toned teal in a light, warm-weather fabric, but here are some of the best matches I could find!

Teal Titans Suit Pant from Shinesty - $29.99, available in sizes up to 42-inch waist.

CONCITOR Men's Flat Front Dress Pants in Aqua Green from SolidColorPants.com - $39.99, available in sizes up to 44x32 (and I'm delighted to learn there's a site specifically for finding solid color pants!).

Collections Etc Drawstring Cargo Pocket Knit Casual Capri Pants from Target - $28.98, available in sizes up to XXL.

[shaadiwish]

While the market is filled with designer brands, there are only a handful of labels who truly stand out for being one-of-a-kind! One such brand that ShaadiWish wants every modern bride-to-be to keep an eye on is Moledro.

[filthforfriends]

When I go to answer a serious ask, I usually type out my initial ideas, save it to drafts, and craft a response after I've had time to think. But recently, some of the asks have just disappeared. Unfortunately, this was one of those instances. (I'm recalling to the best of my ability).

Anon said they felt like the only one noticing how Maneskin use people as props in their photos, usually People of Color.

This topic touches on some of the most historically and currently relevant subsects of society. Race & ethnicity. Social development & communication, (now in the age of social media). Entertainment & representation. Plus, others I'm not thinking of. I want to acknowledge how deserving of an in depth discussion this topic is, while also acknowledging that I'm not informed enough to broach it. So this is gonna be pretty surface, anon, and I'm sorry for that.

What does it even mean to use somebody as a prop?

Props are used to add detail and context which make the subject or background more interesting. As inanimate objects, they only exist to enhance the scene. Therefore, to treat someone like a prop is to prioritize the way they can improve your image over that person's autonomy. Sure, both the prop and subject can both have individuality, as long as one serves to make the other look interesting.

So who's culpable? The subject, the photographer/videographer, perhaps a director of sorts? Personally, I think the blame is shared and situationally dependent.

Below are the most obvious examples of Maneskin using a person as a prop, posted to their insta pages. The trend anon pointed out is evident. Admittedly, I don't have a good sample size here, though. A ton of Maneskin's content is only available on their stories. Especially content with non-band members (which is what anon is referencing), since Maneskin's publicist prefers to post just the band.

I wonder how many of the people in these photos gave informed consent. (Not necessarily to a band member, just someone). As in "This photo will be posted without your name and seen by millions, but you won't receive royalties." Because some of these images Maneskin (the brand) can profit from via merchandise and copyrights. Conversely, most of the folks in the photos will experience poverty in their lifetime. Some of Maneskin's outfits are worth more than the other person makes in a year and they're treating them like a plant. There's also the safety concern. If any of these people have someone in the whole world that wishes them harm, that person can now find their job/neighborhood.

I know these photos aren't all bad. Victoria probably got consent to post pic #5, just a harmless prank. The woman in pic #3 was likely thrilled to be sitting next to such a handsome young man and thinks all social media is Facebook (which she hates). But why take pictures with the Black men in photos #2 & #4? What about the Latinas in #1 & #12? They're are using POCs as visually compelling markers of cultural and ethnic differences to say something meaningful about themselves. Look how far I've come! Look how successful my music is! You envy me, right?

[diamondcrownacademy]

DCA Info Part 12: Brands (Part 2)

View Part 1

Sea Glass Wishes (シーグラスの願い)

Style: Elegant and Quirky

A brand that focuses on the image of the beautiful sea life. The clothes have two distinctive designs, one is to mimic the beautiful sea with the colorful corals and fishes while the other mimics the raging storm where the waves are violent and merciless. This is Cerule's preferred brand.

Mon Petite Monstre (私の小さな怪物)

Style: Gothic

A brand that centers around the aesthetic of the Beast's castle. The clothes are derived from the 1700s with a mix of idol elements and have a gothic style but are accessorized with cute accents to make it not entirely dark. This is Rozeline's preferred brand.

Tiger Blossom (タイガーブロッサム)

Style: Cultural

A brand that features Arabic-themed outfits based on Princess Jasmine. The clothing designs are derived from Southeast Asia and Egypt, also has a lot of Arabic and Egyptian patterns as well as jewelry to complement that entire look of the oasis in a hot desert. This is Vidya's preferred brand.

Magnolia Empress (マグノリア皇后)

Style: Cultural and Elegant

A brand that features Asian clothes with a slight hybrid from other styles. The clothes are inspired by the Northern Wei Dynasty, it also features some intricate patterns that depict dragons and magnolia flowers. There are also hybrids with European clothing styles. This is Jinlong's preferred brand.

Totem Travois (トーテムトラボア)

Style: Cute and Cultural

A brand that shows off a native look while making it look more modern and cute. The clothes have an ethnic-style, nature concepts, and sometimes have animal concepts and patterns based on Native America. There is also a hybrid style with clothing from Europe in the 1600s. This is Elu's preferred brand.

Calliope Calle (カリオペカレ)

Style: Quirky and Elegant

A brand that features the joy and festivity of a Mardi Gras parade. The clothes feature a 1920s style from New Orleans style with a mix of idol elements, lily pad flowers, and shiny accessories that remind you of fireflies are a key element in the brand. This is Perrine's preferred brand.

[jonahdeforest]

Zola: Digital Storytelling and Racial Performance

“Y'all Wanna Hear A Story?...”

Zola is a glittering piece of postmodernism, filtering the infinite jest of touch screen technology through the medium of film. This is appropriate, considering its source material – a 148-Twitter thread from 2015. Narrated with lacerating wit by Aziah “Zola” King, the thread details the Detroit-based waitress’ wayward excursion to Tampa. Packed with suspenseful twists and turns, it's only natural that it eventually became a feature length film. After years of middling in development hell, Zola was eventually released in 2020. Directed with auteur sensibilities by Janicza Bravo, Zola uses a road-trip from hell to interrogate (or subvert) American race-relations, transaction and bodily autonomy. 

The plot unfolds on the heels of a newfound friendship. Zola (the magnetic Taylour Paige) meets Stefani (Riley Keough) at her waitressing job and the two strike up a bond. Both strippers on the side, they appear to be cut from the same cloth – funny, street-smart hustlers and practitioners of a particular brand of femininity. This femininity is one patterned off of Black womanhood and Stefani, who is white, is shameless in her racial posturing. With stray braids, slicked down baby hairs and the unmistakable accent of a white girl imitating Blackness, Stefani represents a post-racial spectacle of appropriation. Keough delivers a comic tour-de-force performance, ringing each AAVE-inflect line with the appropriate amount of misplaced conviction. That Keough is the granddaughter of Elvis is not really relevant, but it does add just a pinch of subversiveness to the proceedings. 

Shortly after they meet, Stefani invites Zola to strip with her in Tampa. Joining them are Stefani’s misbegotten beau (Nicholas Braun, giving a masterclass in patheticism) and her enigmatic, increasingly shady “roommate” (Colman Domingo). Zola comes to discover that she is in the throes of a trafficking scheme and that Stefani’s intentions may not be as innocent as she proclaims them to be. In her essay “Eating the Other: Desire and Resistance,” author/academic bell hooks writes of cultural appropriation and its manifestation in the media at large. She writes that, “The overriding fear is that cultural, ethnic, and racial differences will be continually commodified and offered up as new dishes to enhance the white palate – that the Other will be eaten, consumed, and forgotten.”

In many ways, Zola functions as a story of otherness – specifically White consumption of the other. Stefani is the walking embodiment of white consumption and continual exploitation/coercion of Zola only emboldens this quality. Zola, on the other hand, is expected to look out for Stefani, opining at one point, “Who’s looking out for me?” This line is indicative of Zola’s compromised safety as a Black woman – a figure who is expected to take care of everyone but herself. When Stefani tells her pimp that, “Zola made me a whole new bitch,” she is literally referring to Zola’s help in increasing her net value in the realm of sex work, but more implicity speaking her debt to Black womanhood as a means of adornment. 

Zola and Stefani are depicted as mirror images of one another, both literally and figuratively. Bravo follows in the footsteps of many a psychodrama in her choice to present the two as spiritual twins. Walking down a hallway in corresponding outfits or gazing upon their reflections, they are both augmentations of one another and so completely diametrically opposed.

Elsewhere in her aforementioned essay, hooks states that, “Cultural appropriation of the Other assuages feelings of deprivation and lack that assault the psyches of radical white youth who choose to be disloyal to western civilization.” This feels like an appropriate diagnosis of Stefani, someone who exists outside of white parameters and thus adopts Blackness in relation to her perceived outsider status. 

Bravo has described her films as existing a step-away from reality. This is fitting for a film like Zola, which renders a stranger-than-fiction story into filmic material. In a profile of Bravo for The New York Times author Jenna Wortham wrote:

Her movies are reminiscent of being on psychedelics — the way even the most mundane interactions become revealing, exquisite and worthy of intense examination, and the way something humorous can seem sinister for a flicker of a second before shifting back into levity. Bravo specializes in exploring the way seeing clearly can happen in an instant and permanently alter your experience of yourself and your life.

Bravo walks a tonal tightrope, but through the imaginative force of her storytelling, manages to pull it off.

Shimmering in neons and buzzing like a smartphone, Zola occupies a distinctive sonic and visual landscape. There are qualities that seem like a callback to old Hollywood: orchestral swells and grandiose title cards. These stylistic nods come across a little cheeky, especially considering the ways in which Zola rejects the Hollywood formula. Aided by playwright provocateur Jeremey O. Harris (who co-wrote the screenplay), Bravo presents a narratively frenetic fever dream that sidesteps convention at every turn. Even though Zola is unequivocally the narrator, the nature of authorial authority is subverted in a sequence where Stefani speaks to the camera, telling her side of the story.   

In the Western sphere, stripping is one of the more fascinating, and literal, representations of our bodies’ entanglement with capitalism. The physicality, the need to appease and titilate, the showering of dollars. All of it seems like a particularly charged ritual of commerce. Zola does not incriminate the profession nor does it glorify it. For the titular character, the act of stripping has an autoerotic verve to it: through it she is able to explore the dimensionality of her selfhood. This is most evident in a sequence in which Zola envisions the different personas she can adopt before a performance. Repeating, “Who you gonna be tonight?,” she appears in multitudes, as if in an elaborate musical number (yet another moment that made me recall the stylistic grandeur of Old Hollywood).  

If this moment is any indication, Zola is a film in which pleasure and pain are offered up with equal aplomb. It is a disorienting and spellbinding exercise in absurdism, confounded by the fact that its story is ripped from the digital headlines.

Work Cited:

bell hooks, “Eating the other: Desire and resistance.” In Black Looks: Race and Representation, pp. 21–39. Boston: South End Press, 1992.

Wortham, Jenna. “How She Transformed a Viral Twitter Thread about Sex Work into a Sinister Comedy.” The New York Times, The New York Times Company, 16 June 2021, www.nytimes.com/2021/06/16/magazine/how-she-transformed-a-viral-twitter-thread-about-sex-work-into-a-sinister-comedy.html.

@theuncannyprofessoro

[getjoys]

Dazzling Daisy Bloom: Her Internet Fame Journey

Some people are born to shine, and Daisy Blooms is one of them. The 22-year-old social media sensation has captivated millions of fans with her radiant smile, uplifting posts, and generous spirit. But how did she go from being a regular girl named Daisy to a dazzling celebrity known as Daisy Blooms? In this article, we will explore her remarkable journey to internet fame, and how she uses her platform to spread joy and positivity to the world.

Birth, Parents and Education of Daisy Blooms

Daisy Blooms is not her real name, but a stage name that she adopted for her social media career. Her real name is Jameliz Benitez Smith, and she was born on June 9, 2001, in the United States. She is of mixed ethnicity, as her father is African-American and her mother is Puerto Rican. She has a younger sister named Jazmin, who also appears in some of her videos.

Daisy Blooms grew up in a musical family, as her father is a rapper and her mother is a singer. She was exposed to various genres of music from a young age, and developed a passion for singing and dancing. She also learned to play the guitar and the piano. She attended a local high school in the United States, where she was popular among her peers and participated in various extracurricular activities, such as cheerleading, drama club, and choir. 

In 2019, she completed her high school education and made the decision to pursue her aspiration of becoming a social media influencer. She then enrolled in an online college to study business and marketing. She enrolled in an online college, where she is studying business and marketing. She hopes to use her education to expand her brand and reach more audiences.

Rise to Social Media Stardom

Daisy Blooms started her social media career in 2022, when she was only 18 years old. She created an Instagram account under the name @jellybeanbrainss, where she posted photos and videos of herself wearing colorful outfits, posing with flowers, and sharing positive messages. 

Daisy Blooms quickly gained a dedicated following due to her cheerful personality, unique style, and motivating captions. In addition to her successful Instagram account, she also established a presence on TikTok under the username @daisyblooms. Her content on this platform included dance, lifestyle, and modeling videos set to popular rap and hip-hop songs. 

Daisy rose to fame on TikTok after a video of her dancing on top of a car went viral and amassed over 2 million views. As a result, she became one of the most influential and well-known celebrities on social media, with millions of followers across various platforms.

Daisy Blooms has collaborated with other notable stars such as James Charles, David Dobrik, and Emma Chamberlain. She has also secured endorsements from major brands including Nike, Sephora, and Coca-Cola. Her success has also been recognized by various magazines such as Vogue, Cosmopolitan, and Teen Vogue. 

Relationship

Daisy Blooms is a social media star who has not revealed much about her relationship status. She does not share any videos or photos that indicate that she has a romantic partner, nor does she refer to anyone in her captions or comments. She seems to focus on her career and her fans, and does not disclose much about her personal life.

Social Media

Daisy Blooms has a presence on Instagram.........Read More

Source: Getjoys