#Exclusive fashion presentation

[candylandphotos]

Fashion accessories lifestyle model glam trendy girls designer trunk show jewelry

"Unveiling Elegance: A Glamorous Trunk Show of Designer Fashion Accessories and Jewelry for Trendy Lifestyle Models"

[ink-asunder]

Me: You can't just dress like a goth horse every time you leave the house

Also me, every time I leave the house:

[Id: a Bella Sara trading card of Soot from the Bella's Ball series. The horse is all black with various charms on his saddle and in his hair. End id.]

[harmonysanreads]

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholar should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos — he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

[itsharleystuff]

↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile. 

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoked."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference. 

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase." 

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you cum, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man on my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails. 

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

[mntozakii]

thinking about sugar mommy sana and her college kid princess 🤒

you met her during your part time job as a cat sitter. when she was away during her business trips, you were paid to care for her two beautiful orange bastards.

of course, you have to give a daily update to your client with pictures of the cats. when you accidentally sent a selfie of you with her cats, she responded with "pretty things".

yay her cats are so big and adorable and so stinky that you want bite their paws

usually, her assistant will pick up the cats but she decides to drive to your house and do it by herself. as a courtesy, she invites you for a brunch at the new restaurant downtown.

the brunch turns into a few more dates until she proposed an exclusive arrangement with you.

sana who funds your tuition and spoils you rotten, she always praise you even for doing the bare minimum.

sometimes, all you have to do is sit next to her, look pretty, then receive thousands in your bank later.

sana just love having you around, it makes her feel better seeing you study on the couch while she reviews the same floral theme for the new s/s collection

"i did my laundry today 😗"

"my amazing girl ⭐️ let's try the new steakhouse tonight!!"

"i got a full mark for my presentation"

"my baby is so smart"

sana is a socialite and often brings you to gala dinner. since you major in communication, she helps so much in expanding your network especially in fashion industry.

sana finds it so entertaining when men try to impress you by offering a summer internship in their companies. she knows exactly how these men take advantages of young girls in the industry.

it is too bad though, sana has decided that you will be working with her after graduating (nepo baby behaviour).

when you quietly ask her to come along to the restroom, she didn't expect you to pull her into the cubicles and start to desperately kiss her.

you are becoming tired with the constant interaction with people and the alcohol doesn’t help, it only made you feel horny. the older woman looks so pretty and it kills you to not be under her touch.

"sweetheart, you need to behave well" sana mutters as she lightly slaps your cheek. she plants soft kisses all over your jaw before pulling away, it is adorable to see how disappointed you get whenever you get denied.

“mommy, no, you have to be nice to me”your lips naturally pout when you look up at her, her face is dangerously close to you and all you want to do now is to go home with her.

“or i will go to those men and ask them to play with me” sana chuckles seeing your attempt to threat her, such an attention seeker. she pulls you into a sweet kiss and can't help but to smile when you started to moan out feverishly, she loves how you look like you're about to cry from being deprived of touch.

“play nice and you’ll get a present, baby”

[sant-riley]

[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]

A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.

The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro

Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)

~

You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.

Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.

Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.

"Thanks Gaz! I love it!

"And not mine?"

"You're on thin ice, old man."

Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.

Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀

Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.

Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀

If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.

"You like me that much Bonnie?"

He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached

Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.

The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.

"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.

Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.

Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.

Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.

Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.

If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.

Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.

Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.

"You're the new kid, get to it then."

"Ghosttttt-"

"Don't Ghost me."

Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.

Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.

Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.

Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.

Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.

Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom

If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Apple Seed: Hell's Angels Feat. Charlie

-At Charlie and Vaggie's wedding reception-

Lucifer: (teary-eyed as he yanks Vaggie into a bone crushing hug) Oh! I'm so happy you and Charlie are finally married, Vaggie!

Vaggie: Ack! (Gently pats Lucifer's back) Thank you... Sir.

Lucifer: Come on, Vaggie. No need to be so formal now. Call me- (sniffs back a tear and clasps his hands together) -Dad?

Vaggie: Uh, sure..... Dad.

Lucifer: (squeals and taps his feet in a very Morningstar fashion) Hehehehehehe~ Oh! I almost forgot! (Digs around in his inner suit jacket pockets) I have a special present for you two.

Vaggie: With all due respect, Sir- uh, Dad, I think Charlie and I have enough rubber ducks.

Lucifer: One second! I know it's in here somewhere. No, not that. *squeak!* Whoop! Definitely not that! *grrrrrrrr!* Yipe! I gotta remember to get that out of there eventually....

Vaggie: How many pockets are in that jacket????

Lucifer: Ah-HA!!! FOUND YOU!!! (pulls out a white velvet box with crimson embroidery and presents it to Vaggie) Da-dada-Daaaaa!

Vaggie: (Stomach drops at the sight of the suspiciously ring box looking gift) Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh, Sir? I'm already married.... to Charlie.... Your daughter..... You were literally just a babbling crying mess in the first row of the ceremony....

Lucifer: Huh? What are you talking about? (Opens up the small box. Revealing a deep red apple seed with a mild golden glow)

Vaggie: A.... candied apple seed?

Lucifer: Not candied and not just any apple seed. This bad boy will be the catalyst for any baby making needs you two gals need.

Vaggie: (blushes) Say again?

Lucifer: This apple seed is imbued with both your and Charlie's essence. So, all you guys gotta do is have one of you (mimics a gulping motion and sound) gulp this little guy down, have a little romp in the sheets to activate it, and POOF!!! The ingestor gets pregnant. (Places the box in a dumbstruck Vaggie's hand) For when you girls are ready, of course.

Vaggie: (stares down at the box I her hand like it's a Carmine exclusive angelic steel bear trap as a million thoughts swirl through her mind) Uh... Thanks... Sir.

Lucifer: (puffs out his chest proudly) You're welcome! And it's Dad now, remember?

Charlie: There you two are! I've been looking for you everywhere! Oooh! What's that?

Lucifer: Hiya, Charlie! Just a little gift from me.

Charlie: (sparkling eyes) Oooooooh! Is that your famous candied apple seed? Vaggie, did you eat yours already? Dad usually makes them in pairs. (Picks up the seed and pops it into her mouth)

Vaggie: (Snaps out of her stupor) Charlie, Don't!

Charlie: *gulp* Hmm.... It tastes different than I remember.

Vaggie: (full body blushing and about to faint)

Lucifer: (gasping and squealing simultaneously as little glitter bombs explode around him, and he claps his hands together excitedly)

Charlie: ......Did I miss something?

[renku]

Shared Bliss

Soloist Choi Yunjin (Jini) x Male Reader

[Part 1?]

A/N: I just feel releasing this short fic for some reason. Maybe it’s my impatient ass or something. Anyway, I truly enjoyed writing this one so I hope you enjoy it too. Let me know if you’re up for a 2nd part. Ideas are also welcome to my inbox! Good day to all!

To define the relationship you share with Jini is difficult, but to be bothered by such trivial things is a waste of time. People are going to think what they want at the end anyway.

Both of you possess the same traits; carefree, live-in-the-moment type of people, cherish, and spend the youth before it’s gone. No commitments. Feel the joy of life outside responsibilities and duties. Time waits for no man at all.

It started in the old fashion way—kicked off as high school peers that escalated until college. Ironic as it is sounds, met at the same company and now coworkers in the present. Same department, just different sections and ahead of her for a year. Taking into account Jini’s exaggerated storytelling (at least from your point of view) on why she left her previous job: the weight of just being there was unbearable. She said that she’d rather work as a waitress at a pub or something.

Sharing various moments with each other, there’s this bond and connection that felt exclusive and genuine. A safe space—comfort and no judgement. Romance? It doesn't cross your mind a bit and not would even dare to step into that unfamiliar realm.

Here’s the thing: random chances often come by to bring good things, chaos, or something in between the two. In your case, Lady Luck bestowed upon you the last one.

It was one Friday night—her occasional invites for dinner or plain drinking session are something you’ve become accustomed to. A fifteen-minute ride is all it takes. Not bad, better to spend the rest of the night outside than get bored alone.

“Still gets me,” you thought, looking at the front of her house. The amount of detail and work she put are remarkable. After a few steps, you pressed the doorbell.

“Oh, hey loser. Thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, “Just a sec. I’m coming.”

She did not even bother to ask who’s on the other side, like she don’t have any visitor besides you. After waiting for a few seconds, the door opened, and there she is—Jini in her off-shoulder dress with rose imprint.

Stunning... Captivating... Tempting.

Three words to describe the sight right before you, in flesh.

Her dress did its job flaunting her figure. Her presence that exude an intimidating aura—fierce, attitude, and boldness. One fierece look and she can make anyone kneel in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, loser. Hey!”

“What?” you replied, still in shock.

“You zoned out, are you okay?” Jini asked, you just shook your head a bit.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, yeah... Hundred percent.”

“Come in then, it’s freezing out here.”

Few common dishes and cans of beer were already placed on the table in the living room. “Not much, but that's a free meal. Besides, I’m not a bad cook,” she winked.

“Full of yourself sometimes, aren’t you?”

“I think the word ‘confident’ is what you’re looking for, mister.”

“Fine, fine... Let’s just eat,” you said, before sitting and opening a can of beer.

“Hah! I won!”

Throughout the meal, different topics fueled the flow of conversation. Some of them were about work, things in the past, gossips, funny, sad, and anything that comes into mind until all that's left on the table were the beers.

“A question,” said Jini, bringing seat closer so she can lean forward towards you across the table.

“Be my guest.”

“Did you ever think about having sex with me?”

Making a surprised reaction would not change the situation so you just answered her in a straightforward manner. “Yes, and if I'm being honest, I can’t stop thinking about it the moment I stepped inside this house. You’re so fucking hot in that dress.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or just courage that came out of nowhere but you still said it, and who gives a shit anymore?

Jini finished her remaining beer looking at you. She stood up, walked slowly and sat down on your lap.

“Is that true?” her focus shifted on your lips.

“Yes.”

A split second was it all took. She kissed you, and you responded accordingly bringing it to a make out session. Sloppy, wet, and warm. Jini pulled your head closer as her tongue joins the action and so are yours. It wasn’t a fight for dominance, but rather an exchange of intentions; something beyond words and better expressed through actions.

None of you can’t stop as your hand began an exploration of its own—the smoothness of the silk dress gave the impression of touching her bare skin.

Jini broke free; hazy, lust-filled eyes remained in contact with yours.

“Dress.”

“Not so fast, pervert. My house, my rules.”

“Playing tough?” you asked, raising both brows. “I’m born tough, loser. Now take that shirt off.”

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

You took your shirt off swiftly in one motion, revealing a body built for years. Astounded, it occured to her that this is the first time she saw you shirtless. Keeping the composure she displayed moments ago is crumbling.

“Happy?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She initiated the kiss again—on your neck going downwards, taking her time to taste your upper torso sending sending you into a frenzied state. Her tounge plays one of your nipples, while her finger does the other by means of making these circular motions, teasing you.

“Fuck.”

Jini’s dirty assault continues and not a word has had left her lips since. She’s acting like a predator aiming to completely devour her prey whole with no intention to stop until she’s satisfied.

“Let’s see what you pack down here,” she said, before pulling in one go your pants and underwear. Jini’s subtle gasp was still noticeable after seeing your cock.

“Well?”

“N- not b- bad...”

“Touch it.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me. Just do it.”

It was already erect, and Jini didn’t even hesitate to wrap her fingers around it—contact sent an electrifying feeling as she executed few, careful slow strokes. Unbelievable. It totally feels like the first time. Her jerking you off was overwhelming that precum is already leaking from the tip.

“Oh- oh, shit... That’s good!” you exclaimed, grip tightened on the arm rest of the chair. You don’t want to cum and if you’ll do so, it’s better to land it somewhere more interesting. Grabbing her arm lightly to halt her actions, caressing her face.

“Why?” Jini asked, her face blushed.

You just stared at her eyes, before brushing your thumb on her pinkish lips. She gets the hint and she knew it was going to happen anyway, sooner or later. She nodded as a ‘yes’.

Jini seemed to hold back a bit but she opened her mouth anyway, sticks her tongue out as she starts to lick one of your balls. Fucking hell. She attempted to put one in her mouth, drenched from her saliva. Jini gives a slow, long lick from the base of your dick going to its tip, tasting that precum still flowing. She takes time to know your proud member.

“Ahhh~ fuck, so good! Keep going!”

Hearing words of affirmation encouraged her even more as Jini started to give attention to your head. Putting it just inside her mouth made wonders—her tongue swirls around it and the sensation is driving you crazy. Unknowingly placed a hand on her head for support from the pleasure that travels around your body, trying not to get consumed by her actions.

Jini starts to take more by pushing herself with her tongue tracing the underside of your cock until she reache the limit—tip reached the back of her throat. Her gag reflex is evident as she holds on for a few seconds before releasing your cock with a pop. Jini catches her breath for a moment, still maintaining eye contact after what she just did.

You stood up while Jini is basically on her knees. No words were spoken at the heat of the moment.

You just position your cock right away in front of her mouth, slowly pushing the tip to enter once again and Jini willingly accepts.

Moving your hips backwards slowly until the glans remained inside, one thrust forward and from there the pace started to build up as you just basically facefuck Jini. Subtle, suggestive moans from her were signs she's enjoying it.

Lasting this long was quite a surprise as the inevitable first release of the night started to build up fast. Primal instinct took over you—faster thrusts, lewd and squelching sounds, moans of pleasure from both of you get louder and you knew holding back was impossible.

“Ji- Jini... fuck... I’m about to cum!”

One final thrust as spurts and ropes of cum went straight down to her throat, and Jini just swallowed everything. Some were escaping the sides of her lips. The high feeling of orgasm disappeared and you went back to your senses pulling out your cock.

“Yum.”

Jini catched her breath after what you just did. It took her a few minutes before returning to a more relaxed state.

She looked even more sexy; scooping the remaining cum using her finger, putting it back into her mouth.

One word and you knew the night is far from over.

“Should we head to my room? You can still fill me somewhere else, right?”

“Oh, you bet.”

[wip]

just how many official tumblr blogs are there? i just recently found out that this one and changes exists which seems less than ideal

Hey, @limelocked!

Great question! We have, we hope, a great answer for you. First up is a comprehensive list of all of current active staff blogs.

You can find ’em by simply searching each name, + @, in the search bar. (i.e., @action)

@action: Highlighting Tumblr’s long-standing social justice priorities of racial justice, mental health, equality, and beyond.

@art Exploring and featuring original artists on Tumblr.

@artistalley: Supporting local artists on Tumblr by buying directly from their storefronts.

@artistpicks: Monthly curated experience by artists and creators on Tumblr.

@best-of-reblogs: A curated collection of some of the best reblog threads on Tumblr.

@bigweekon: Tumblr’s beloved podcast highlighting recent trends, memes, and more.

@blackexcellence: A showcase of things all Black, all excellent, past and present—literature, fashion, music, historical spotlights, and beyond.

@books: Exclusive interviews and curated content from authors, publishers, and book fans.

@changes: Your go-to for new Tumblr launches, bug fixes, and updates on platform.

@creatrs: A network that connects artists, makers, and builders with brands.

@emporium: The Official Blog of the Tumblr Shop™, run by Brick Whartley back from the Island.

@entertainment: Exclusive content and features from across TV, film, and streaming.

@engineering: Behind-the-scenes work on how Tumblr engineers build Tumblr.

@fandom: Home of Fandometrics, Tumblr’s weekly ranking of entertainment properties.

@fashion: Runways to streetwear and every style in between.

@featured: Featuring exclusive content from Tumblr’s many good, good blogs.

@gaming: Exclusive and curated content across mainstream and indie games.

@getloudr An in-kind ad donation program dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices.

@happytuesday: A blog dedicated to all our Tumblr Tuesdays, posts featuring users based on a weekly theme.

@humans: A blog we use so we can reply in the notes of various posts.

@kpop: Exclusive content and a curated experience of K-Pop on Tumblr.

@labs: A way for engineers at Tumblr to experiment in public.

@music: Exclusive content and features on all your favorite musical artists.

@postitforward: Supporting the community with resources for mental health, self-care, and wellness.

@prideplus: Your home for all things LGBTQIA+ on Tumblr.

@radar: Sharing four pieces of original posts from Tumblr artists per day, hand-curated by our team from across the globe.

@staff: The ultimate source for big news, platform updates, and everything that makes Tumblr, Tumblr.

@support: News, tips, and nerdy details from Tumblr Support.

@tee: A blog from your friendly neighborhood Tumblr user, Tee.

@todayontumblr: Daily curated content around trending topics on Tumblr.

@wip: Dedicated to feedback and questions from Tumblr users to Tumblr staff.

There’s more. For our global audiences, you can find all the localized Staff blogs. They’re linked here!

We also have a carousel in the feed somewhere called “Official Blogs,” but it might be that we need to make that more obvious or provide a dedicated feed or page somewhere.

Leave that last point with us, but we hope that helps! Thanks for your question, and have a good day.

(And a tip of the hat to you, @lizzieonka! Consider them tagged)

Best,

—Caragh, Cates, and Cyle

[candylandphotos]

Fashion accessories lifestyle model glam trendy girls jewelry display designer

"Glamour on Display: Trendy Girls Showcasing Fashion Accessories in Designer Jewelry Display"

[yoonavii]

Impressing his crush

Context: Gojo Satoru trying to impress his diva and high-maintenance girl crush

Gojo, being the confident and charismatic guy that he is, would go to great lengths to impress his crush. He’d meticulously plan extravagant dates and outings, ensuring that everything is flawlessly executed.

Aware of his crush’s high standards, Gojo would spare no expense in his attempts to win her over. He might take her to exclusive restaurants, arranging private dining experiences with personalized menus and attentive service.

Gojo would put extra effort into his appearance. He’d meticulously choose stylish outfits and pay attention to every detail, from his hair to his accessories. He’d always aim to match his crush’s level of elegance and style.

Knowing that his crush has a penchant for extravagant gifts, Gojo would surprise her with lavish presents. Whether it’s a rare piece of jewelry, a limited-edition fashion item, or tickets to a sold-out event, he would make sure to find something that perfectly aligns with her tastes.

To impress his crush, Gojo would showcase his impressive jujutsu skills. He might organize private demonstrations, where he displays his immense power and control over cursed techniques. This would not only demonstrate his abilities but also emphasize his dedication to protecting her.

He would willingly participate in activities or hobbies that his crush enjoys, even if they’re not his usual interests. He’d immerse himself in her world, attending glamorous events, art exhibitions, or fashion shows, always by her side.

Despite being a natural prankster, Gojo would temporarily suppress his mischievous side when around his crush. He’d strive to present a more refined and composed image, believing it’s necessary to match her high-maintenance nature.

Gojo would shower his crush with constant attention and compliments. He’d be a perfect gentleman, ensuring she feels valued and adored. His flattery would be genuine, as he genuinely appreciates her unique qualities.

He would seek to understand his crush on a deeper level. He’d take the time to engage in meaningful conversations, actively listening to her thoughts and desires. This would allow him to tailor his efforts to meet her specific expectations.

Ultimately, Gojo’s goal would be to make his crush feel like the center of his universe. He’d prioritize her happiness, supporting her ambitions and dreams while being the unwavering pillar of support she needs.

©𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

Itwall c!doomsday trio prompt ideas: 1)Techno plays dress-up with steve and Dream and Phil are the judges or 2) Techno convinces Dream to play dress-up and they go show Technos masterpiece off to Phil

"Philza Minecraft."

"Yeah, mate?" Philza was lounged on the couch, his slippered feet propped on an ottoman close to the fireplace. Despite Technoblade's gameshow-host-esque tone, Phil's eyes stayed locked on the book in his lap. A hound's furry white head also occupied his lap, unbothered by the book cover on his forehead, and a crow was nestled carefully at his thighs. This old man wasn't going anywhere.

But Techno still had to try.

"Philza Minecraft!" He tried again, "If I may have the honor of your eyes upon my great creation."

"Oh!" Phil tore himself from the page, keeping a finger on his spot. "Great creation. Yes. Show me."

"You see, Phil," He extended an arm dramatically, summoning his best showmanship, "I am a man of many talents--"

"Mm-hmm--"

"I am a man of many talents, Philza, and while I'm most often concerned with the art of war, I am, of late, involved in the war of art. The battles of self-expression. The eternal struggle to create something beautiful. Philza Minecraft," he said, "I am entering the world of fashion."

"You always do dress very well, mate."

"I-- Well-- Thank you, Phil, thank you. I appreciate your immediate recognition of my genius. But fashion also means knowing how to dress more than just my peak-performance body. My perfect musculature. My piglin-ousity"

Philza nodded sagely.

"And you denied me an opportunity to play dress up earlier, so I am now taking back my right to express myself. My artistry. Through fashion. I present to you: Dream!"

Dream walked out through the shadow of the doorway, the dim light of the fireplace slowly illuminating the absolute mess that he was dressed in. He was dressed, exclusively, in Techno's clothing. Techno's crown hung limply at his gaunt shoulders, while the lacy white shirt was slowly sliding down his torso and revealing the skin all the way down at his ribcage. The pants, too, appeared to be sliding, ready to cascade into the oversized boots.

Dream had a massive grin on his face.

The crow fluttered away and the hound whined as Philza hopped to his feet.

"Nope! Nope!" Philza said, though he was fighting laughter, "No, no, no," He rushed over to Dream and gathered fistfuls of fabric in his hands, trying to pull it all up and keep the young man covered. "I told you it wouldn't fit! Lad, this is all gonna fall off you in three seconds."

Dream's face was red, but his smile remained. Despite Phil's efforts, the clothes had no chance of staying on. He felt the pants drop completely, though the length of the shirt kept him partially covered. A few weeks ago, he was embarrassed of his scarred skin, but there was nothing left to hide from either Techno or Phil anymore. "You bathed me earlier today, Phil--"

"We are in the living room! The windows are open! We don't get naked in the living room with the windows open! Mr. war-of-art doesn't know how to measure his models, eh?"

Techno stood with his arms across his chest, looking awfully proud of himself. "I think it's his best look yet."

Phil sighed, his shoulders falling as he realized how badly he was failing to preserve Dream's decency. Yet, there Dream was, smiling, looking absolutely dwarfed in Techno's clothes and almost half-naked as gravity took its toll. He had some color to his face, and his eyes were shining. He looked, for the first time in a long time, like he was having fun.

"Credit where it's due, mate."

[diegowife]

Guts ( GOLDEN AGE ARC )

Guts As Your Boyfriend SCENARIO

No Warnings

A Bit Yandere ¿

Part 2 ( NOT CONNECTED ): Post-Eclipse

• First of all, his other comrades could gape in disbelief seeing someone like you, kindhearted and gentle, deserve a fierce man like Guts.

• In spite of his intimidating presence, it was difficult for them to accept that he could indeed be your boyfriend as all he does is brandish his sword and ruthlessly slaughter any human that crosses his path on the battlefield.

• PDA is something that Guts despises. Its presence, particularly in public, is something that he would certainly find quite awkward. Unsolicited neck kisses from you are also something that he strongly disapproves of.

• In private, his affectionate nature truly reveals itself. Displaying his profound fondness towards you in the presence of his comrades is not his preference. Nevertheless, it is essential for everyone to be aware that you are exclusively his alone.

• In the forests, the only setting where he feels comfortable showing affection towards you publicly (restricted to just the two of you), he doesn't hesitate to embrace your waist. Occasionally, he enjoys teasing you.

• He also adores clasping your waist and drawing them near.

• In the initial stages of the relationship, the only terms of endearment he utilizes for you exclusively consist of ‘Dumbass’ and ‘Jerk.’ This should come as no unexpected revelation.

• Upon reaching a state of comfort, he consistently addresses you with the customary term while incorporating either ‘Love’ or ‘Babe’ depending on his mood.

• Engaging in his physical touch involves allowing him to place his head on your lap while you delicately run your fingers through his hair. It is also experienced when both of you intimately intertwine your fingers.

• Seeking comfort from your touch is the sole method to alleviate his concerns, which consistently proves effective.

• Before embarking on the mission commanded by Griffith, he adored the gentle and tender quick kisses on your lips.

• “Take care, yeah? I will not be dead, I promise.”

• Other than that, he may display reckless behavior and may not even show concern for offering an apology.

• In every debate, he is swift to lay blame on you and incessantly strives to emerge victorious, even though he is often the one who started the argument.

• Despite his stubborn nature, he refrains from criticizing or belittling you when engaged in an argument. To illustrate this, he does not resort to using derogatory terms such as ‘dumb,’ ‘stupid,’ or ‘fool.’

• “Tch, y'know, I have reached my limit with the nonsense you constantly spew. Don't talk to me again and deal the problems with yourselves this time!”

• However, his words are not intended to be taken seriously; they are simply a dramatic expression because the next day, he would present you with a quantity of fruit collected from a tree and placed in a bucket as an earnest gesture of apology.

• The bestowal of gifts is not a preference for Guts; his offerings consist solely of flowers plucked from the garden or a handcrafted floral crown fashioned only during his leisure moments. Indeed, he does not possess an inclination towards bestowing presents.

• “Dumbass, at least I got a present for you. Why are you even complaining?....”

• In spite of everything, Guts inevitably starts feeling envious when witnessing your increasing intimacy with his allies, especially Griffith. Even though Griffith is Guts' closest companion and depends on him, Guts remains uncertain about allowing you to interact with him.

• Guts becomes aware that both genders exhibit great enthusiasm toward Griffith and regard him with reverence akin to that of a God. Guts has his reasons for discouraging you from spending too much time with Griffith; who can say if you'll end up becoming a devoted fan of Griffith in the future?

• One time, during your conversation with Griffith, Guts unexpectedly approached the two of you and forcefully pushed you aside.

• Noticing Guts becoming sullen and defensive is truly precious. Nevertheless, your genuine displeasure arises due to the fact that you exclusively perceive him as the only person with whom you can communicate.

• “Why the hell are you spending some time with that twink?!!? I'm literally right here!”

• Occasionally, Guts can exhibit rather confusing behavior sometimes. On one occasion, he may display intense passion towards you, while on the following day, he might become perplexed if you attempt to establish more comfortable with him, catching him off guard.

• “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” 

• “Why did you try to kiss me?!”

• Exist of having a partner or in a relationship seems to slip his mind, almost as if it disappears from his thoughts. It wouldn't be fair to hold him accountable for this oversight; perhaps it's a result of the immense fatigue he experiences while engaged on battlefields, hindering his ability to grasp his thoughts accurately.

• In addition, Guts held a deep concern for your well-being. Take, for example, how Judeau and Corkus extended an invitation for a shared wine drink. However, Guts swiftly confiscated the bottle, forcefully shattering it on the floor. 

• “Don't you ever dare to accept anything from what my comrades gave you.”

• He strongly advises against you engaging in any potentially dangerous activities without his knowledge. Ultimately, he fears the consequences that may arise, envisioning a situation where you end up succumbing to intoxication, mirroring the experience of his late father.

• “I don't want you to be as pitiful as my old man back in the days....”

• Guts observe his peculiar sense of pride when Y/n is unexpectedly praised for the noticeable growth of his muscles or when he emerges victorious from a duel. He dismissively chuckles, portraying himself as the utmost embodiment of strength, impressing his partner.

• Demonstrating his biceps and measuring himself against others is his preferred method of flaunting his strength, allowing him to observe your entertained response proudly.

• “Me? Strong? Nah, I ain't really that strong. But keep in mind, I'll be the last man standing on a battlefield!”

• When it comes to sharing food, Guts is highly possessive. He refuses to relinquish the final portion of food to anyone else.

• “Nope, get it yourselves....”

• In order to provoke him, the optimal method and most effective tactic is to approach his fellow companions, such as Pippin and Rickert, and engage in the act of food sharing.

• Upon witnessing Pippin and Rickert tenderly feeding you food as if you were a little girl, an intense surge of anger welled up inside him.

• With a firm approach, Guts would seize your wrist, voicing his frustration, “What on earth are you doing!?” It was as if he had conveniently forgotten his own unwillingness to share food with you.

• On the other hand, if he discovered you crying, he observed as you concealed your face within the depths of your knees. An expression of confusion caused his brows to elevate, prompting him to playfully poke your head multiple times.

• “The hell you cryin' for?”

• Regrettably, he failed to acknowledge that his actions simply exacerbated the situation. With a sense of agitation, he clumsily tousles his hair as he finds himself unfamiliar with the task of comforting others.

• Besides, he never had anyone comforting him, so he's obviously shit at it. 

• “Gahh... how do I deal with this...”

• When your head rises, instantly his gaze falls upon your face, where red and swollen eyes meet his sight. Observing you in such a state causes a momentary pause for him; a sense of tranquility overtakes him as he descends and bends down alongside you.

• Witnessing you in such a state inflicts upon him a sensation akin to a sharp blow to the chest. The brewing question in his mind is, what if the fault lies upon his shoulders?

• “Hey, now, I don't like seeing you this way. Tell me exactly what happens.”

• Instead of yelling at him to leave, he anticipates your outburst, yet you continue to sob incessantly.

• Having a lack of aptitude in offering advice, Guts excels in the art of listening. He remains attentive to every expression and release of emotions you convey. Not once did his attentive listening falter, ensuring that your words were never overlooked.

• He'll let you bury your face into his chest and enables you to cry your heart out.

• Therefore, with a heart full of warmth, he will greet you with his most radiant smile while gently patting your head.

• ”Crybaby. Smile; you're adorable when you smile more.”

• In the midst of slumber, Guts will unanticipatedly carry you in a bridal style, gently cradling you in his arms, to an undisclosed destination amidst the woodlands.

• The destination to which he will take you remains uncertain. This gentleman is inclined to lead you up the hills, near the river, or perhaps even closer to the summit of the mountain to instill feelings of fear within you.

• Occasionally, he would drop you off under the tree as you and he sat together, allowing both of you to marvel at the crescent moon illuminating the night sky.

• Throughout the night, a transformation would take place within him, causing him to adopt a gentle demeanor. This shift in behavior can be attributed to the absence of people and the serene night air that envelopes him.

• During cuddle sessions, Guts will softly press his lips against your jawline, all the while gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb. The warmth and comfort of his hugs are undeniable; whenever his tender touch graces your skin, you experience an overwhelming sensation of melting in his presence.

• Murmuring sweet words to you is his habit before dozing off to sleep.

• “Tch, you never fail to steal my heart..”

• “I feel so safe with you; it's embarrassing...”

Thank you so much reading !

[stylographic-blue-rhapsody]

I was deep in my drunk feelings when I made a joke post threatening to write about episode 5 symbolism and mizu, but then enough people said "where is the essay" so I am here to ramble as requested 

in ep 5, the tale told in the puppet show spliced with the flashback sequence of mizu’s marriage identifies mizu as not only the ronin, but also the bride and, with tragedy, the onryō. I would argue that mizu is also depicted (in a less linear fashion) as the phoenix itself, and will circle back to this thought later

mizu is first presented as the ronin, the warrior with a singular purpose. as the ronin’s lord is assassinated by the rival clan, mizu’s mother is killed in the house fire. the ronin swears his revenge, and dedicates his life to this cause. through his childhood and into his young adult life when he departs from swordfather, mizu is exclusively the ronin. he is not the onryō yet, demonstrated in his honorable unwillingness to harm the men who stab him and throw him out of the shop even after he insists that he wasn't looking for a fight in the first place

the ronin is only able to rest and put away his mission when he meets the bride, the lover. however, mizu’s bride is not literally another person she meets. the bride is not mama, or mikio, but the lover mizu discovers in herself, the one allowed to bloom in place of mizu-as-ronin. mizu’s growth into the bride from the ronin occurs over time, but solidifies in the moment when kai is gifted to her by mikio, paralleling the taming of her own distrust and expectations of being hurt. (side note, giving a nod to effective use of color: the bride puppet, dressed in reds and oranges, has matching coloring to the gifting scene, as it takes place in autumn)

mizu’s transformation into the onryō happens in two parts, beginning with the slaying of the bride and completing with the slaying of the ronin. the betrayal by mikio and mama kills the softness in mizu, kills the lover she has allowed herself to become. mizu-as-onryō retaliates by killing the ronin: the part of himself that hesitates before striking, that part that cares for honor. in not intervening in mama’s death and then murdering mikio in turn, mizu kills the ronin in himself, slaughtering it in retribution for the dead bride

mizu is both the bride and the ronin, peaceful lover and noble warrior, until he is not—he is the onryō, only the onryō. episode 5 opens with the narrator saying, “no one man can defeat an army, but one creature can.” only as the onryō, and not as the ronin or the bride, does mizu have the force of will and capacity for violence it takes to singlehandedly overcome boss hamata’s thousand claw army and protect the brothel

mizu’s identity and place in the world is a constant dialogue. he is too white to have a respectable place in japanese society, but is also seen by abijah (our stand-in for white british society) as filthy and corrupted. he is not perceived as enough of a man to walk through life wholly as one (madame kaji’s comments about his apparent lack of sexual desires, his bones breaking “like a woman’s” under fowler’s hands, his disregard for honor and recognition as a samurai). she is also not enough of a woman to exist peacefully as one with mikio (she is a swordsman, an accomplished rider, bad at domesticity; “what woman doesn’t want a husband?” mama chastises)

the moment when mikio rejects her completely following their spar is a particularly poignant narrative beat about tolerance of “the other” in gender presentation: mikio can accept her as a woman only until she bests him at manhood, at the sword, at violence. she is Other in that she is physically strong, a poor cook, able to wield a sword. these traits are all tolerable to mikio, also an outcast, so long as she is not so Other as to be a man. but her swordsmanship bests his, and bests his in the way the sun outshines a candle. it is too Other, and therefore she is not a woman. she is a monster to him, the onryō, even before she kills the bride and the ronin in herself

(( as an aside, this series does a very good job at discussing the oft-challenging relationship between race and gender (e.g. that it is difficult for mizu to live as a biracial man, but would be deadly for her to live as a biracial woman), and demonstrating how queerness of identity complicates that relationship even further—but that’s a topic for a different post ))

as the narrative has been building on this idea that mizu is both the ronin and the bride, the man and the woman, japanese and white, episode 5 concludes with the heartbreaking reveal that, although mizu is all of these things simultaneously, he has had these identities beaten out of him by tragedy and cruelty and his own self-loathing hand

but mizu does not stagnate as the monster. we return to the metaphor of steel: too pure and it becomes brittle, breaking under pressure. mizu is a sword, a weapon that he has forged for the sole purpose of revenge and blood, but he has excised too much of himself to successfully deliver on his goals—he is not the ronin or the bride, he is the onryō; she is not a woman or a man, she is the onryō; the onryō is nothing but pain and vengeance—and so it breaks

“perhaps a demon cannot make steel,” mizu says. “I am a bad artist” 

swordfather replies, “an artist gives all they have to the art, the whole. your strengths and deficiencies, your loves and shames. perhaps the people you collected… if you do not invite the whole, the demon takes two chairs, and your art will suffer”

to be reforged, mizu must not only acknowledge the impurities she has beaten out of her blade, out of herself, but lovingly, radically accept them and reincorporate them into the blade, into herself. he adds impure steel—the people he has collected, with their own dualities—to the sheared meteorite sword: the broken blade that fit so perfectly in taigen’s hand (the archetypal ronin, but a man seeking happiness over glory), the knife akemi tried to murder mizu with (the archetypal bride, but with ambition for greatness), the bell given to ringo and returned to mizu in broken trust (the man unable to hold a sword, but upholding samurai principles of honor and wisdom), the tongs that honed mizu’s smithcraft under swordfather’s guidance (the artisan, a blind man who sees more than most). to make of herself a blade strong enough to see her promises through, she must hold her monstrosity and honor and compassion and artistry in equal import

she is the onryō, and the ronin, and the bride, and all the people she has collected.

with this we finally come to mizu as the phoenix. mizu undergoes many cycles of death and rebirth, both in the main storyline and the flashbacks into her life leading up to the present. often, mizu is juxtaposed against literal flames—the burning of his childhood home, swordfather’s forge, the fire as he battles the giant in the infiltrated castle, the heart sutra forge of her own making, the climactic second confrontation with fowler. not every death/rebirth mizu undergoes is thematic to flame, of course. the fight with the four fangs, spliced with the rebirth ceremony of the town, for example, or the deaths of her ronin-self and bride-self, giving rise to the onryō

he is the phoenix, unable to truly die: every fatal combat he pulls back from the brink, reborn over and over in the wake of failure and setback. in episode 1, mizu prays for the gods to “let [him] die.” not to help him to face death unafraid, not to die with honor or victory, but to die at all. mizu has experienced death a thousand times over, but not once has it stuck

(( as a parting aside: the ronin’s rage at the phoenix clan for killing his lord parallels mizu’s self hatred of his mixed heritage (which he believes to be the thing that killed his mother), and so the ronin’s quest for revenge against the phoenix clan is mirrored in mizu’s quest to kill the white part of himself as best he can, by killing the white men who could be his father ))

mizu, the ronin. mizu, the bride. mizu, the onryō. mizu, the phoenix.

[tinyidle]

Vacay!teez and their Boyfriend Behavior

WARNING: suggestive fluff and smut (paragraph format), vague-yet-detailed nsfw descriptions, based on irl chuseok locations, fem reader, all fiction ofcofc

𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 "𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚋" 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

he's such a romantic, he's even confirmed it. he'll be around you-- just breathing sometimes, not even doing anything too special-- and you'd fall in love with him like you did the moment you laid your eyes on him. he told you this first, actually, and that alone made you fall even harder for him. so when you both took a trip around jinju for chuseok, seeing the sites and all, you wondered which site was the best to see. there was a noteslip tunnel, an underwater aquarium, a beautiful tunnel, and even more; yet all you could see at the end was how amazing your boyfriend looked. he, being the sweetheart he is, made you feel 10x more precious. when a girl looked over to see your boyfriend's handsome face, he'd hold onto your waist and leaned unto you, making the girl effectively turn away. the same goes for guys, but for guys he got even more protective, as if you were fragile glass that could shatter the moment eyes that weren't his landed on him or you. when the night would end, he'd make the sweetest of love to you, giving praise after praise after praise. all this while you blushed and did your best not to doubt yourself aloud, or else you know you'd be fucked into thinking highly of yourself (which was often).

𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

having been invited to paris fashion week earlier in the year, your boyfriend couldn't turn down olivier's two other invitations for the ss24 collection for women and men. balmain has been an inspiring brand for him, and he couldn't wait to show you the fitting that staff had aligned for him to try. with each piece he wore, you became more and more enamored with the way your boyfriend looked as he posed in front of the full-length parisian mirror in the traditionally-vintage styled hotel room. afterwards, when all staff were out the door and the eiffel tower was lit outside, you and he cuddled into the king size bed, excited for the days to come. balmain red carpet and presentation came and went, and you applauded and congratulated your balmain prince each time with a public hug and semi-public kiss on the cheek. in private, however, in order to truly reward him without further tiring out the male, you would give him three options: (1) give him a blowjob, (2) cockwarm him, or (3) ride him. he'd ask for all three, and you'd happily give it to him in the proper succession (1, 3, and 2). he came with a smile on his face every. single. time.

𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

tokyo never had better weather than now, and he knew that. he planned a solo trip, he really did; he just didn't expect you to show up. when you found out your boyfriend was in the same area you were to visit distant family, you just had to meet him and show him the sites. he was estatic that you were able to show him around farther than what his manager knew, and whenever you both had free time, you'd recommend this place and that station to the next place while showing him around. he took tons of pictures-- alot with you-- and kept the really aesthetic ones for instagram. in days when he wanted to slow down and enjoy more without worrying about picture-taking and souvenir-collecting, you and he would simply hold hands and walk around in the park exclusively for private couples. he joked about getting a love motel, to which you turned red in the face and smacked his shoulder, but you both knew that when you'd get to his hotel you'd be doing a lot more than just "love". positions upon positions, riding, doggy, legs up and folded, side-by-side, sitting up in a lotus position, until you both were drenched with sweat and cum.

𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

your boyfriend loves going places, even around his local street. so for him to be able to go to london for chuseok was an opportunity that he wouldn't miss. because you also wanted to go and had the opportunity, you begged to tag along with him, to which he obviously agreed. you guys went everywhere together: the park had moments filled with you two holding hands and enjoying the grass, feeling the vibe of the local cafes, walking the academia-esque streets, and geeking out at the harry potter museum. he may have bought way too many wands for his own good, but hey, they were for the memories and gifts. there were times when your boyfriend would be sneaky and tease you semi-publicly. for some reason he knew how to get you frustrated without anyone around. you'd warn him that you'd get him at the hotel, and he'd respond by cheekily sticking his tongue out. once at the comfort of a huge bed, you'd get your revenge pretty quickly. even though you got a good few orgasms from him, and in reality he should be tired, the male still had enough stamina to please you before calling it quits for the night.

𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 "𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕" 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

it wasn't that he wanted to be completely lazy, but jeju was the city of relaxation. he needed it, and he needed you; put two and two together, and what do you get? you both have chuseok in the beautiful island area. he rented a beach hut, and the days were meant to be consisted of staring at the large sand stones and taking hikes here and there. you both spent time having from deep and meaningful conversations ('what's the point of living to pay taxes when taxes are made to help me live?') to very shallow and somewhat silly chats ('why can't money be printed at home?'). so many questions, so little answers. the area your boyfriend rented was devoid of any people, which made indecent acts very frequent amongst you two. exhibition would be the word, except that, with no human life outside, it'd mainly be considered semi-public sex. he ate you out on the swings, making himself dizzy, but making it memorable for the both of you. and skinny dipping was also a thing, even though it was mainly for harmless solo aquatic streaking and not to be frisky.

[gemsofgreece]

OK some things about Greece's Marina Satti results and we're done with this

JK I am not done with Marina I love her but we're done with the circus Marina was in, for another year

So, she is a perfectionist but I hope she will soon understand how much SHE SUCCEEDED. And it will look like a love delirium but no I am not being biased.

Marina Satti got 11th place. Missed Top 10 by one. She was basically killed by the juries.

In the televoting she won 8th place. So she was in the top 10 of all people's votes. She was also 8th in the votes from the Rest of the World, which is a big deal in my opinion.

I won't be mad at the juries because their voting overall made sense in many ways and we were aware that Zari was a not jury-friendly song in any way. It had zurna, it had rap, obviously juries don't go for this stuff. So, it's okay. We knew that.

BUT Marina Satti got 8th - 11th place:

By singing exclusively in the Greek language.

By singing in an entirely Balkan, eastern melody during a year that a lot of the Balkans and East Europe had withdrawn from the contest.

By kinda rapping / reggaetoning, which is generally hated in Eurovision.

By doing exactly her thing, despite knowing how much she would be fought by certain people.

By knowingly choosing the very risky song instead of a ballad and a typical dance song that she also had available as options.

By not trying to be "understood" and get sympathy votes.

By being given a tiny budget from the Greek delegation, much smaller than any previous years including to last year's NQ lame tycoon nephew entry. So GD gave a famous artist like Marina much less money than to those small unknown kids that had gone before her. WTF

By being hated for her song and her (genius) music video and a large percentage of the population writing in English and asking foreigners to not vote for her and blaming her for insulting Greece, Greek culture etc (HINT: No she did not insult it and a blog called gemsofgreece tells you that so relax) and insulting her, her morals, her family, her father's descent and her talent relentlessly for three months

By the unprecedented thing of the freaking SHOWBIZ of the country making openly insulting attacks against her and her song. Like, seriously, there were FAMOUS celebrities going on TV and calling her song "cat vomit", a fashion designer (before her dress choice lol) saying she should go to Eurovision naked because there's no other hope for her to get votes. I am serious. You might say, oh, she must have done something. NO. Guys, no. She has never said or done anything wrong to any celebrity in the country as far as I am aware. She was attacked by musicians, fashion designers, TV shows and honestly nobody knows why. It's a different thing to not like something than to get a polemic position openly as a celebrity against another famous person. This has never happened before, I don't remember anything like this. Celebrities shitting on another artist's effort out of nowhere, especially in advance. To put it simply, now that Marina will have to return to Greece (poor thing), she has good reasons to sue half the country.

By losing her father one month ago.

By getting pretty ill during the semi-final, losing her voice and being administrated medication every three hours.

By suffering chronically from severe anxiety, which is why she refused three prior propositions from the Greek delegation to represent the country.

Well, by receiving a new massive wave of hate from people from or supporting Israel and the Greek government controlled media and press, who all started a fierce campaign against her the last two days before the final. The reason was that she showed intentionally boredom / sleepiness during the time the Israeli contestant was speaking. Make of that what you will, I am only presenting the facts of how her placement was formed here. Many Jewish people wrote they had voted her in the semi but now they wouldn't. I believe because Israel is an eastern country, probably several people of Jewish descent voted for her and then all those votes were lost. It's no matter, I am just explaining that she would probably otherwise be 7th in the televoting, 10th overall. Here we analyze if Marina succeeded her goal, we don't nitpick for Eurovision's sake.

And as you see, she succeeded. With all the odds against her, with a LOT of people hating her and making her life harder and her effort impossible, with the loss of her father, she succeeded in her vision. Bring back Greek language, the eastern sound and having the world dance with it. Shoutout to Armenia who also succeeded in this and made top 10, the song was a little more conventional. Let's be real, Satti achieved all this with a VERY difficult song. The definition of a difficult song and in a little known language. Nothing else, just congratulations to her and I hope she realises all this and does not let her trademark anxiety and perfectionism get the better of her. Also, she really created an international fan community with this and I think there are good things coming for her in the future :)))))

PS1: Odds had her 8th-10th place but they underestimated the juries and the last day's hate she got. In general odds were not very successful this year.

PS2. No worries Greek and Cypriot televoting exchanged the 12 points again :D

PS3: to the ageist haters who wondered why she looks 20 though she is 38, kitties reach her age and you will be crying to look like her

PS4: Marina’s 8th place in televoting was the best placement since 2013, surpassing Amanda and Stefania with the English jury friendly songs 😃😃😃 Greek delegation take a bloody hint