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[gvsmokeshop]

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[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲✯

IN WHICH…We experience a toxic relationship between a drug dealer and his baby momma

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! Toxic behaviors, slight domestic abuse (not really but I’m putting it as a warning anyway), drugs, sex, broken household

Words highlighted in orange is Chris and how he connects with the song. Pink highlighted words is Y/n (aka you) and how you connect with the song. Purple highlighted words is how both you and Chris (or others in the story) connect with the song.

Chris sighs as the beaten-up screen door squeaks open, the hot LA air immediately rushing past his face. He lets it close by itself as he walks along the porch, taking a seat in his chair. He sets down his cup and sparks his blunt, closing his eyes as he inhales the grape-flavored tobacco leaf and weed.

The sound of laughter catches his attention, making him open his eyes. He scans the lawn briefly before he lands on two bodies rolling around in the yard, one bigger than the other.

He whistles catching both of their attention, the younger one gasping in excitement.

"Mama! Daddy is awake!"

Chris catches the eye of the child's mother and sighs.

I know this ship is sailed and this is dead I'm singin', "RIP," I'm singin', "RIP," yeah

He can see the irritation in her eyes, a feeling he has been all to familiar with for the last three years. He doesn’t know when it started but if he had to guess, it was a month after Kehlani was born, their relationship taking a turn for the worst.

The relationship was dead and he knew it, he knew from the beginning they wouldn't last. But he did it for her, he tried to make things work but it seemed like she was against him.

Kehlani runs as fast as her little legs can take her, diving right into Chris's lap. He laughs and quickly moves the blunt away so he won't burn the four-year-old, or get smoke in their face.

I know you gave up long time ago Boy, I'm singin', "RIP," I'm singin', "RIP"

Y/n watches Kehlani and Chris giggle and play with each other on the porch, her heart sinking. She hates to admit it but she was envious of her daughter having all of Chris's attention.

It seemed like he hated her.

From the moment Chris laid eyes on the child, she was pushed back on the backburner. It was difficult to handle, especially going through postpartum.

She tried to do better, act better, hoping Chris would give her an ounce of attention, but he would just ignore her.

She knew Chris had given up on their relationship a long time ago, and it hurt. However, she has come to terms with it.

She stands up and brushes the grass and dirt off her pants, walking towards the home. She runs up the porch steps and frowns seeing the blunt near her child.

She snatches the four-year-old off of his lap and gives him a dirty look, “Momma I want to stay with Daddy!”

“No, it’s lunch time and then you need to nap.” She says getting ready to walk in the house.

She stops when she hears Chris’s voice, “Let her stay out here while you make us lunch.” She turns and sees Chris putting the blunt in his mouth, his eyes trained on her.

“I said no, Finish your blunt and come make your own food.”

She opens the screen door and steps foot into the house, only to freeze hearing Chris’s mumbling.

“Fucking bitch.”

All I need's some Loving,

"Daddy, do you love me?" Kehlani's words make Y/n chuckle to herself, a small smile ghosting her lips.

"Of course I do baby. I love you with my whole life and beyond."

The four-year-olds next words make Y/n stop in her tracks, "Do you love momma the same amount?"

She knows what Chris is going to say, he's going to mask it to the child but he's going to make it clear that he doesn't love her.

She grabs the plates of food and starts walking to the table.

"I love momma a lot, the same way I love you"

His words catch Y/n off guard and she trips and falls, the plates breaking and the food going everywhere. Chris quickly sets Lani on the couch, telling her not to move before he rushes into the kitchen.

"What the fuck happened?" He asks as he sees Y/n surrounded by broken plates and food. "I-Im sorry, I ju-" his eyes soften seeing her sniffling, her eyes glossy with salt water.

He inches forward, careful to avoid the sharp glass before kneeling in front of her. "Talk to me ma, what's wrong?"

"Y-you said you love me....you haven't said it in so long." She sobs out, her whole body shaking. He quickly pulls her into him, rubbing her back softly. "Shh, I know, and I'm sorry. You know I love you baby, I could never stop loving you."

She sobs even harder and grips Chris tightly,

That's all she ever wanted to hear.

"Why don't we order tonight?"

some fucking

"Shhh mama you don't wanna wake Lani up do you?" Chris asks, holding back a groan himself. Y/n moans quietly, her head thrown back in pleasure.

"Taking me so well mama's. Whose pussy is this?"

"Fuck! it's yours- all yours daddy!"

"That's right."

And you say this shit don't matter But we always goin' at it, ain't no trustin

"Why do we always fight?" Chris asks holding the girl in his arms. He can see the gears turning in her head, thinking of multiple reason as to why they fight, but she tells him it doesn't matter.

"But it does matter...all we do is fight." He thinks to himself.

I need some lovin', good, good fuckin'

It's times like this that make Y/n despise the father of her child. He never wants to address anything, he always wants to leave shit in the air, causing more arguments.

She doesn't want argument, she hates arguing.

She wants love, but he has to settle for sex to 'cure' their problems.

And we fussin' and we fight, and you always wonder why

Y/n scoffs as Chris continues to yell at her, "You always do this stupid shit Y/n! You wanna love me one minute, then you accuse me of fucking cheating and hating you!"

"Because you fucking do!" She screams at the top of her lungs. Chris stares at her with no emotion, used to her raising her voice at him.

"You asked me the other night why we always fussin' and fighting and it's because of you!" She stabs her finger in his chest. "You treat me like shit! I hear you calling me out my fucking name, I catch you giving me dirty looks!"

"That doesn't mean I hate you! And it sure as hell doesn't mean I cheated on you!"

Y/n smiles with tears in her eyes, " But it does Chris...I'm not dumb, I've seen the texts in your phone, I've seen you come home with hickeys...and I won't forget the night you came home and told me you cheated on me, because my body changed after I gave birth to your child!"

Chris's stomach falls to his ass as he watches Y/n begin to pack a bag.

"W-Where are you going?"

And my mama told me, "None of this should come as a surprise"

"It hurts so much! I do my best and it's never enough!" Y/n sobs into her mother's arms. She had packed a bag and left with Kehlani after her and Chris's argument, not wanting to spend another second with him.

"Baby none of this should come as a surprise. I've been told you this when you were younger after your daddy." Y/n looks up at her mother in confusion, her brows furrowed.

"W-what did you tell me?"

" love don't come easy, it don't come easy"

Love don't come easy, yeah, givin' up easy

"Don't give up on it yet baby...I know you want it to be a plain and simple game but you have to work for it, the both of you."

Times get hard, but nothing's easy

Let's go out

Y/n approaches Chris in the kitchen who is currently measuring out weed. She sits across from him and waits for him to acknowledge her. "What do you want?" He sounds irritated, making Y/n nervous. She looks down and fiddles with her fingers.

"I was thinking we could go out...like a date... like we used to."

Let's try it out

Chris stops measuring the weed and looks at her, "it was just a th-ok." He shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

"Really?"

She smiles genuinely, something he hasn't seen her do in a long time. He stands up and walks over to her, rubbing a hand over her face. "Yeah, lets try it out." She breaks out into a wide grin and jumps up, planting a fat kiss on his cheek.

You don't hear me out,

Y/n sighs as Chris tells her to be quiet. They were in the car driving home when somehow, an argument started. All she said was that maybe he shouldn't sell as much so they could spend more time with each other.

That's why you always run your mouth,

"You always have shit to say! You never shut the fuck up! It's always complaints and trying to fucking act better than me, and I'm sick of this shit! Just shut your fucking mouth!"

We been talking 'bout our love's runnin' out But you don't hear me out, yeah

"You don't fucking listen to me Chris! that's why I keep saying the same shit!" Y/n yells as they enter the house. She throws her heels in the corner and rushes towards the bedroom, grabbing a bag.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Chris asks, his eyes set on her frantic figure throwing clothes in the bag. She ignores him and goes to Kehlani's room, beginning to pack more clothes.

"I'm leaving you, that's what I'm doing. I'm taking Kehlani and leaving you!" She tries to move past Chris but he stands in her way. "You're not fucking leaving me Y/n, and you're not taking my child!" She ignores him and goes to step to the side but he moves with her. He grabs her making her jerk back, "Don't fucking touch me! Let me go Chri-YOU'RE NOT FUCKING LEAVING ME!" He slams her against the wall.

She winces as her head bounces off the wall, looking at Chris in fright.

That's why you always run your mouth

Chris's grip remains tight on her arms, his breathing heavy. "You're not leaving me, and you're not taking Lani either...J-just stop." His voice breaks as he stares into her eyes.

And all I need's some Lovin',

"You can't leave me, you c-can't take Lani away from me, please." His eyes begin to sting as tears blur his vision. "I'm tired of this Chris" Y/n croaks, her throat closing as she begins to cry as well. He nods, understanding her words. "I know ma, I know and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry-" he wraps his arms around her waist and starts to kiss along her jawline.

some fuckin'

"Let me make it up to you...Let me show you how much I love you."

And the sex is still compatible But I ain't got no manual for trustin'

She knows she shouldn't, she shouldn't crave his touch, she shouldn't crave to be intimate with him. She should put her foot down and stand ten toes on her threat of leaving, but she doesn't.

Chris sees her hesitancy and continues to convince her, promising he will change, promising he will be more loving.

She doesn't know if she believes him, but she gives in anyway.

I need some lovin', good, good fuckin'

Y/n's head is pushed into the pillows as Chris slams into her repeatedly.

"Fuck, I love you so much Ma. Say it, say you love me."

"Fuck! I love you!" She reaches back, holding Chris's hand as his dick slides in and out of her dripping cunt.

You say something isn't right, only fuckin', gettin' high

"This feels weird" Y/n mumbles as she and Chris sit on the couch. They had put Lani to bed around an hour ago, and now they are on the couch watching TV. Chris looks down at the girl snuggled into his side, "What are you talking about Ma?"

She sits up and crosses her legs, playing with the fraying couch, "I mean...It seems like all we do is have sex and get high. We never sit with each other all cuddled up and relaxed, we're always arguing." Chris sighs and pulls the girl onto his lap, "Is that what you want to do? You want to only argue, have sex, and get high with me?" Y/n shakes her head, begging to play with his chain.

"Good, because I don't want to either."

And my daddy told me, "Hold your heart in order to survive"

"You have to do better son. For yourself, and your family." Chris sighs as he listens to his father's words. "I'm trying pops, I really am it's just hard."

"I know it is, but you have to hold your heart in order to survive. What I mean by that is that, your heart is your lifeline, without it you would die. Y/n is your lifeline son. Without her, you would destroy yourself. Hold her close, cherish her, water her like a flower so both you and your family can grow."

'Cause love don't come easy, it don't come easy Love don't come easy, yeah, givin' up easy

Y/n couldn't do it anymore.

She was fed up with the toxic relationship, so she left. She left while Chris was out dealing, throwing bags in her car and fleeing to her mothers house with Lani.

When Chris came home and saw the note on the fridge, he broke down. Vases being broken, and tables being flipped over as well.

He couldn't believe she gave up this easily on them, on what they could be.

Love don't come easy, it don't come easy (No, no) It don't come easy

Chris bangs on the door, waiting for someone to answer. eventually, it does open and he sees the girl who has been avoiding him for a month now.

"Chris?" She questions in confusion. She never told him she was staying at her mother's home, so to see him was a surprise. She crosses her arms and looks down at her shoes, "what do you want?"

"I want you back."

"Chris I do-"

Times get hard, but nothing's easy

tears form in her eyes as she looks at the ring in the box.

"I-I know I haven't been the best to you. I've said some horrible things to and about you, I-I cheated, and all in all, I treated you like shit. I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry. I-I want- no- I need you in my life. You're my heart, my lifeline, my everything. I don't know what I would do without you."

"I'll do better I promise! Things won't be easy, but I'm going to try... Just please don't leave me...Don't take my family away from me, don't give up on me."

Tell your man you trust him

Y/n accepted the proposal, allowing Chris to put the ring on her finger. She quickly brings him into a hug, sobbing softly. "I'll do better, I promise. You just have to trust me Ma. I'll give you the whole world if you just trust me."

"I trust you"

Tell your girl you love her

"I love you so much Ma, I love you so much." He whispers as he rubs her back.

Tell your dad you miss him

"Daddy you're back!" Lani shouts as she runs up and hugs his leg. Chris sniffles and picks her up, wrapping one arm around her and the other around Y/n.

"I missed you so much!"

And call your mom and thank her

Y/n walks away from the father and daughter duo, calling her mother to thank her for being a good guide and letting her and Lani stay with her for the month.

Tell your daughter you love her

"I love you so much Lani, with my whole life." Chris expresses as he holds her close, grateful to have the child back in his arms.

Tell yourself you got this

It's unknown to both adults that their minds are reeling as they drive home, both of them giving themselves a mental pep talk.

"You got this, it will be different this time. everything will be better."

'Cause these times get hard, but nothing's easy

They come to a red light and Chris looks over to Y/n who is staring down at her engagement ring.

"I love you," he expresses as he takes hold of her hand.

"I love you too Chris."

idk how i feel about this so if yall don't like it, ion blame you 😭

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[dottedsilktie]

Betrothed

Naoya Zenin can barely keep up with his duties as the next head of the Zenin estate and threatens to crumble under the pressure. Thankfully, his fiancée knows how to make everything better.

cw: smut - MDNI, rough and degrading sex, oral (m! receiving), afab reader, choking, power imbalance and toxic relationship

Your eyes dart furiously, taking in the blinding lights of the low-hanging gold leaf chandeliers, endlessly reflected by the tacky sequinned dresses of women swarming around the room. Everything's unbearable, the smell worse than the view, perfume barely covering the sweat of bodies intermingling together, with the added edge of lukewarm champagne and stale tobacco.

You hate it here, but above all you hate the heavy weight of Naoya's hand on your lower back, steering you through the crowd. Naoya is insistent on showing you off to everyone. His latest, shiniest prize. His soon-to-be bride. Each introduction feels like an eternity, each handshake clammy and intrusive.

"I need a breather", you tell Naoya when the latest canine old geezer finally lets go of your hand after holding onto you for far longer than it is appropriate. 

"No you don't", Naoya retorts without even looking at you, his eyes fixed on another one of his acquaintances, a cordial smile on his lips. If it wasn’t for the vice grip he had on your waist, it'd almost feel like he doesn't even acknowledge your presence. You try to wriggle out of his tight embrace, parting your lips to protest but he's quick to silence you and he digs his fingers cruelly in the silk of your gown, wrinkling the delicate material.

"Behave yourself, don't even think about causing a scene", he hisses, looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile on his face. To Naoya, everything you do out of your own volition is akin to causing a scene. You relent, gaze dropping to your trembling hands, steeling yourself into following him again through the swarm of warm bodies.

For the umpteenth time tonight, when Naoya finds an audience of new faces, he spews his spiel about how your betrothment was fated. He’s good at it, paints a vivid story of how two snotty kids’ puppy love has grown to cement the relationships between their families’ businesses. Naoaya’s like a master at work, his little speech perfectly tailored to both appease skittish shareholders and entertain the overly-sentimental penchant of their wives. "It's kismet, her and I", Naoya says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

What Naoya doesn't share though, is his lingering resentment for you. You may have become more pliant now, more accepting of your place, but you haven't atoned. There's still an edge to the way you address him, and it serves as a bitter reminder of your initial reserves about the whole ordeal.

Still, the onlookers smile at him but he doesn't miss how their expressions falter ever so slightly when their inquisitive eyes settle on you.

They must notice how your attempt at a genial smile ends up resembling a twisted moue, and how you cower into his side as they bid you goodbye. Naoya notices the slight tremor rocking your hands and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Despite your repeated blunders tonight, Naoya thinks unease is a good look on you. It makes you more malleable. Tamer. Eager for any escape, any reprieve he'll offer and, being the benevolent man that he is, he takes pity on you and drags you out of the ballroom and into a secluded corridor.

His hold on your wrist is unforgiving, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you still babble mindless 'thank you's with whatever breath you still have as you try to keep up with his long strides. He ushers you inside the first bathroom he finds before locking the door behind you.

Immediately, you crouch over and hold your face in your hands, spilling an incoherent string of apologies and frenzied thanks in between labored breaths. "Naoya, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to burden you - I mean, I didn't even think I'd end up like this, I was fine – in the car, I rehearsed, I was doing good but – " you try to explain, but he cuts you off. 

"What's new, you fuck up and I have to clean up your mess." He scoffs, not even sparing you a glance. Instead he stares at himself in the mirror hung above the sink, appraising his reflection with pursed lips. His eyes linger on the protruding vein on his forehead, widening at the sight of his face's sudden pallor. All your fault, as usual.

"Do you have any idea how you make me look ?", he starts again, massaging the bridge of his nose. "It's one thing if you want to ruin your own reputation, it's another now that you're my fiancée for God's sake - you're an extension of me, do you fucking get it ?". 

He kneels to be eye-level with you, fine eyebrows pinched together and nose wrinkled. He's fuming and you're starting to spiral. Just as you're about to hide your misty eyes again, he cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to face him. His thumbs press into your cheeks, creeping up towards your lash line. "How am I supposed to manage a company if I can't even deal with my wife ? You make me look incompetent, darling", he presses and the pet name makes you shiver. 

You sniffle and try to steady your uneven breaths, pleading with urgency, "I'm sorry, I'll be better, I just need to breathe, please". He cocks his head to the side, "And what about me in all of this, mmh ? Think you can fuck up my night because you couldn't just shut up and smile, then cry your way out of your responsibilities ?". His tone is low, his words biting. 

You know he's right. 

Noaya's formal introduction as the heir of the Zenin estate with you by his side was supposed to be flawless. It was a desperate bid designed by Naobito and his darling boy to control the narrative around the succession of the group, and to nip in the bud any stories about a possible carve-out to make the task of taking over the Zenin conglomerate more manageable, but you might've just fucked it up. You can already see the headlines, the rumor of the once revered Zenin conglomerate falling to the hands of a temperamental heir and his unstable wife will be echoed endlessly in every paper. It wouldn’t be the first time either of you ended up in the news, but this time is different - much worse than any previous petty attempt at dragging you through the mud. 

You shake your head fervently, eager to sooth his irritation, "No of course not, I'll make it up to you".  He sizes you up, mulling over your words, then he stands up and you all but clamber to your feet. "I'll make it right", you repeat with more confidence. He looks you up and down again, still irked but mildly curious. "How ?", he inquires, leaning against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble behind him and eyes narrowed at you.

You hesitate for a moment before relenting, "I'll do anything".

Ah, there it is. The night’s highlight. It’s not the first time this happens, by now it’s a well-practiced routine between you but it still feels heavenly every time he gets to push you into that overzealous, servile state of mind.

He might not be able to control the narrative around the shitshow his dad’s company has become or what every last geriatric investor thinks of him but in the grand scheme of things it might not even matter. He has other, better things to look forward to anyway.

Naoya takes two long strides to back you up against the cool wall. He looks down at you curiously and raises a graceful finger to trace the curve of your jaw. His hand moves up to wipe a lone tear that spilled past your lash line, and his lips stretch in a cryptic smile at the sight of the little crystalline droplet, now tainted black from your mascara, rolling down your flushed cheek. Naoya likes the way the streak of charcoal watercolor dirties you. You always look best with a tear-stained face. 

You can’t say much now, you’ve sealed your fate already and you’re not sure you’d want to tap out even if you could. You like to watch the anger in Naoya’s eyes dissipate, a dark lust slowly weathering down the storm of his ire. All because of you. He looks so handsome like this, when he lets you take care of him. 

Naoya barks out a laugh at your lovesick expression, grabbing your cheeks and shaking your face to snap you out of your daze.

“On your knees”, he spits at you. The change in demeanor is immediate. You lower yourself onto the hard tiled floor, the cold seeping in your skin even through the heavy taffeta of your dress. You fold your hands neatly in your lap and look up at Naoya with a poignant fondness that makes him sick. Something odd stirs deep in his gut at the sight of your obedience. A two-headed monster, half resentment and half lust, makes him want to hurt you then reward you for your willful servitude.

You watch him, mouth aghast, as he undoes his tie with one hand, the other slowly encircling your neck. He barely applies any pressure, content to keep his touch light around the soft skin of your throat. You know better than to trust this fleeting softness. Soon enough, he pushes his fingers into the sides of your neck and squeezes. His touch is anything but conversational now - the dig of his nails in your skin is vindictive. You merely gasp but don’t back away. Naoya seems mildly displeased at that, uncurling his hand away from your neck and lightly shoving your face to the side as he snarls, “Can’t you play along ?”.

You want to play along. You crane your head back, exposing more of your throat. He smiles. 

“That’s better”, Naoya croons. You melt into nothing at the faintest hint of praise. 

His pace is leisurely when he loops his tie around one hand and dangles it in front of you, brushing the expensive silk deceptively softly against your heated skin. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation when he finally winds it around your neck, fastening a tight knot and wrapping the loose end around his fist. The first tug is tentative and barely makes you drop your jaw open. Naoya tuts, tugging harder this time, and he finally seems content when you let out a panicked gasp.

Using his tie as a make-shift leash, he jerks your face into his crotch. He’s half hard already, cock stiffening to life embarrassingly fast when you shamelessly rub your face against his too-tight trousers. The effect you have on him emboldens you enough to look right into his eyes as you brush the outline of his length straining against his thigh, the dark fabric of his suit doing nothing to conceal how much he needs this.

Naoya lets out a muffled groan when your nimble hands move to undo his pants, his breathing strained from the faintest brush of your fingertips against the head of his cock. You probe at the wet spot darkening his boxers, mouth watering when his cock twitches weakly under your hands. For now, you’re just content to stroke him over the ruined fabric of his underwear, doe eyes widening at how every brush of your hand against him has his cock leaking more and plastering the wet fabric to his sensitive length. 

“Stop fucking teasing”, Naoya warns you with another tug of his tie. He was never really one for foreplay, you reckon. Reluctantly, you peel down his boxers and free his cock, gnawing at your bottom lip at how heavy it looks when it springs free and slaps against his white shirt. Any reservations you might have had are quickly forgotten when you wrap a small hand around him, swirling your thumb around the messy head of his cock, while you fumble around with the buttons of his shirt, eager to see the trail of dark hair leading to his pelvis and Naoya whines - guttural and genuine, for once. Pride simmers low in your gut and you eagerly pepper small kisses down his stomach, scratching your nails lightly against his pearly white skin before brushing into the neatly-trimmed patch of pubic hair, your own mind growing hazier at every little breathy sound of pleasure bubbling past Naoaya’s pretty lips.

Looking up at him sends another jolt of arousal to your core. He looks so disheveled already, a light pink blush dusting his high cheekbones and you’re not sure if it’s desire or the shame of breaking down so easily in your hands that has him closing his eyes tightly.

He still has the presence of mind to pull harder on your leash, hissing through gritted teeth, “Think you have the upper hand, you fucking slut ? Do what you’re good for, finish what you started”. 

His words are devoid of their usual bite, and even as he towers over you and shoves your face right in his cock, he looks uncharacteristically weak. You still oblige, not before shooting him a knowing small smile that has his blood boiling and his dick jumping in your hand. Closing your eyes to offer him a reprieve from your piercing eyes, you lick a long stripe for his base to his messy tip,  laving it with kitten licks to coax more of his precum out of his already sloppy dick.

You smear the mixture of pre and spit over his whole length, your free hand cupping his balls, and Naoya actually moans, high pitched and needy when you twist your wrist and start jerking him off quickly, taking his overly sensitive head in your hot mouth and suckling on it so sweetly he thinks he’s falling for you all over. You’re so good to him, zealous and eager to please, that he doesn’t even have to ask before you’re moving your hand away and slowly sinking his dick in your mouth. It feels like heaven, the pent-up stress of the earlier fiasco already melting away as you take more and more of him into you, and he breathes a sigh of relief when his length hits the back of your throat. Naoya finds himself in a generous mood, you’ve been so good to him after all, so he remains unmoving for a while as you adjust to his girth stretching your swollen lips wide. That kindness is short-lived though, and soon enough he tugs the tie back, pulling you away before guiding himself in your mouth again.

He sets a rhythm of deep, long strokes that’d be painful if you weren’t so used to it already. How many times have you done this by now ? Dropping to your knees and letting him fuck in your awaiting mouth, making a mess of your throat, has become second nature to you. 

It’d be demeaning if it didn’t earn you so many pretty sounds of pleasure from Naoya, stifled groans fading into breathy whimpers and whines, and you commit all of them to memory, each one a token of his covert affection for you. 

Naoya’s pace picks up when you start echoing his labored breathing with choked moans of your own, each time pushing in deeper in your mouth until his aching cock breaches into the tight sleeve of your throat. You gag around him a little, instinctively trying to pull away from the foreign intrusion, but a mean tug on his tie keeps you there. He doesn’t even offer you the reprieve of pulling out this time. You let out a pained moan around his cock, misty eyes pleading wordlessly for him to pull away but he doesn’t. Naoya just smiles, an odd sense of serenity settling over his usually scrunched features, and reaches one hand to your throat to feel himself there. His touch is cooling, every graze of his fingertips against the column of your throat thawing at your panic and you slowly even out your breathing, even with how deeply he forces himself in your mouth. 

Something entirely different takes over now, lust brewing deep in your gut. You shift a little, trying to quell the embarrassing throbbing of your core by grinding down on your own heels, and Naoya actually laughs. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face to get a good look at your glassy eyes and the fine lines of drool falling past the seams of your lips. 

“So messy”, he tuts, catching your spit then smearing it on your cheek. You choke around him, a feeble protest quickly silenced by the cruel push of his twitching dick even deeper into your throat. 

“You actually like this, don’t you ?”

He doesn’t expect an answer, doesn't even really need one. Naoya just pulls out slightly and drives himself into your mouth, hard. You cry out incomprehensibly, helpless but so aroused, and reach a shaky hand to his thigh to steady yourself when he starts a cruel pace.

In and out, in and out - Naoya is a man possessed, taking as much pleasure from how your throat squeezes down on him as he does from your choked moans. He wants to bruise you, cover your face in so much of his pre and your spit that you become unrecognizable, but above all he wants you to like it. You certainly seem like you do, the once subtle rocking of your hips now shameless.

“My good little slut”, he praises, patting your head in an unusual display of fondness.

The word goes straight to your untouched cunt, its bite heightened by the punitive push of his cock in the tight sleeve of your throat. It shouldn’t feel so good, and it shouldn’t sate an unspeakable want that addles your mind but it does. You’re not sure why, maybe because it’s soothing to anchor yourself in the knowledge that you can be good, at least for something or to someone - an indisputable gauge of your worth. Affection is fickle and hard to grasp but the certainty of this - the hefty weight of a cock in your mouth, the promise of it stretching your cunt - is unassailable. On your knees, eyes rolling aimlessly and drooling uncontrollably, you’ve never felt so seen. 

Naoya pulls unexpectedly out of your sloppy mouth , grasping your chin to look right in your lidded eyes as he snickers, “Didn’t think you’d enjoy whoring yourself out so much”.

You blink slowly at him, coughing and choking on your own spit and he has to squish your cheeks together, swaying your face side to side to fight off your haze. “So fucking stupid just from sucking cock, what will you be like when you actually get fucked ?”, he snickers, slapping your cheek with his leaking tip. The idea has your mind reeling. 

You look at him like you’re asking him to find out for himself and he stares right back at you with the hint of a promise - a threat ? - in his eyes.

He pulls you to feet once more, ignoring the growing burn in his loins and the painful rush of blood to his cock, the skin of his aching length now feeling taut from your spit drying under the cool air. Pushing you to rest your upper body against the marbled sink, he kneels behind you, fumbling with your skirt until he gets a good hold on it and pulls it up to expose you. You whimper in embarrassment when he whistles and runs a curious finger along your covered slit. “So you really are a slut, huh ?”, he muses, tone light and detached even when he pulls your soaked panties down your legs and circles your entrance with a finger.

“Thought I’d just fuck your throat, let some steam off, but this -” he cuts himself off, slicking two deft fingers with his own spit before plunging them in your neglected hole, “ How could I not fuck you now ?”, he barks out a laugh when you immediately squeeze around his fingers and keen.

Naoya is almost in disbelief at how wet you are already, slick pouring out of you and coating your thighs every time his fingers graze a sensitive spot in your pussy, his cock leaping and aching to bury itself in your warmth.

He pulls his fingers out when your cries get louder, standing up to his full height behind you and tapping his cock against your ass. One hand guides his dick between your puffy folds, rubbing the mix of spit and precum you coated him in from your hole to your clit, the other fumbling to pull your neck back with your makeshift leash. He forces you in a deep arch, watching your face in the mirror. 

Naoya waits for your glazed eyes to focus on him before slowly sinking himself in your pussy. Your jaw drops when the bulbous head of his cock breaches past the first ring of muscles, and even with how wet he got you, your still hiss at the burning stretch. Naoya can’t be bothered with being gentle though, and he fucks the rest of his painfully hard length into your weeping hole in one, fluid motion. It knocks the air out of you, renders you completely boneless for him to fuck into as he pleases. Each thrust sends a jolt of pure electricity coursing through your limp body, white hot arousal running from your already sore cunt up to your spine.

Everything feels so good, his cock so thick and long it grazes effortlessly into that tender spot deep inside you, then bruises your cervix. You do your best to stifle your moans, acutely aware of where you are - what if someone heard you ? what would people say ? - but Naoya isn’t having it. He lets go of his tie in favor of forcing a finger in your mouth, coaxing you into moaning for him loudly and accentuating the slapping for his pelvis against your ass.

“Don’t act shy now”, he laughs breathlessly, pressing his finger against your tongue and watching you drool.

“I wouldn’t mind being caught like this”, he continues and, to your absolute horror, pulls his finger out from your mouth to slip under your dress and circle your pert clit. You break up in pitiful sobs, clenching impossibly harder around his cock, as if trying to keep him inside you whenever he pulls out. Naoya hisses and throws his head back but his pace doesn’t falter and he pinches your clit between two fingers, rolling it to turn your sobs in keening moans.

“Want to hear you – aah, fuck, you’re so fucking tight– want everyone to hear you be a good girl for me”, he pleads, delirious and so hungry for you, you can’t refuse him. You give into it, letting out wanton moans at every devious stroke of his dick into your sore insides, and in turn Naoya only fucks you faster, pressing into your clit harder.

You’re so fucking close, your whole body flashing with white hot pleasure and what sends you over the edge is Naoya’s fevered praise when he lets out incoherent strings, barely audible over the loud sounds of his skin on yours ;

“Come on, be good, make a mess on my cock - you’re taking me like it’s nothing, fucking hell, this pussy was made for me”. 

It’s so filthy, unusually desperate and raw, that it sends you tumbling over the edge with a strained sob of his name. Your orgasm has your cunt squeezing around Naoya’s length so tight, he stills and arches over you, the rhythmic spasming of your walls coaxing his own climax out of him. He comes with a guttural groan, his seed bursting in long and thick spurts and filling you so deliciously it lengthens the ebb and flow of your high. 

For once, Naoaya is quiet. He rides out his high and rubs a soothing hand over your stomach with a strange tenderness that somehow feels more intimate than the rest of the evening.

He shifts behind you, still buried deep inside you but now with his arms holding you to his chest, and he clears his throat to say something. Looking at him through the large mirror, you watch his face contort in a boyish expression. Almost bashful. He never does this, never lingers behind or clings to you. 

“Thank you”, he mumbles into the crook of your neck. It should sound wrong, off-kilter or entirely odd to be thanked for sex like a common whore. To you it sounds like love in bloom. You’ll take it for now, and hope that, maybe once Naoya learns to be a good heir, he’ll learn to become a good husband.

This will probably be pt.1 of a longer series called Family affairs.

[tsustuff]

tmagp episode 17 thoughts. no or not a lot of context but still read at your own peril

index of these posts

3:40 celia. again?

4:10 i feel like i constantly feel the need to type ": ( sam"

4:30 oxford is like FAR jesus christ

5:00 he's so cute, dude. he's so awkward and cute.

5:20 always a sign of being really okay when you have to tell yourself you're okay. i've done it i've been there but it is a Lie

6:00 it always strikes me so funny to think that they are still just going along with the whole 'this is a text-to-speech generator on a computer from the 90s or whenever'. i mean, everyone *must* know there's something up. i just. chester is doing his theatre kid shit

6:40 'you'd probably benefit from therapy' is. i don't know if this was properly well-meaning but if it was it's so hilariously back-handed

7:35 STROKING ORCHIDS? IS THIS AN IDIOM I DON'T KNOW OR IS THIS LITERAL I'M TOO AUTISTIC HELP

8:00 for a little while i was going to a therapy-not-therapy thing my doctor sent me to (the woman was adamant it wasn't therapy but idk what else to call it) and she had a plant pot in her office with an avocado seed that had grown a leaf. that's all. that's what i'm thinking about rn : )

10:00 UM????????????????

11:25 i like when they give us a statement-giver who's kind of an asshole lmao

13:50 i'm so intrigued. being invited in for tea is not what i expected from the double when we got introduced to the idea

14:25 d and d's brother elden ring vibes honestly

14:50 who are the guests. also i need to know how darrien og ended up emaciated like that

16:00 hoo boy sharon

17:10 the juicy shit is about to go down

18:10 jesus christ

19:20 turned inward or turned outward, which path would you like better

19:30 god i hope the man is a third them

20:00 oh this is better than a third them really

21:15 sharon is fascinating. i want to know what she knows

22:20 THAT WAS A GOOD ONE

22:30 oooo celia looking for answers huh......

22:55 glad to know alice also eats things at the computer. when i moved i fully disassembled my keyboard and cleaned it out and there was Mystery Substance under the keys (likely a combination of cat hair and dust but it looked rather like unburned tobacco)

23:30 I AM CONCERNED FOR COLIN. SHE'S RIGHT, IT'S BEEN WEEKS

23:45 the fucking error sounds in the bg are so funny. but also i want to know if they're like. a reused sound from somewhere else. imagine if they were a fucked up version of a sound we already knew

prev | next

i have a kofi if you like this and want to help me keep doing it

[babylovepresley]

another delusion elvis headcannon:

my power went out because of the hurricane so imagine a power outage at graceland. you, elvis, and the entire memphis mafia sitting around a candlelit room joking and laughing. elvis holding you close because you’re semi - scared of the thunder and loud noises

stephanie i absolutely adore every ask you send but THIS is literally so adorable i stg im close to tears! protective!elvis is something so personal to me i swear <3

it’s the first thunderstorm of fall and it’s getting quite cozy in graceland as you finish making the hot chocolate for elvis and the boys, who are seated happily watching tv in the living room

it’s quiet save for the soft static thrum of the tv and the occasional comments made by joe, jerry or elvis himself while watching the tv

the lights in the kitchen begin to flicker as you lift the tray with the hot chocolate and begin to turn to bring it to the living room

the lights suddenly go out all together with a loud CRACK of thunder and a flash of lightening that makes you place down the tray in shock

“shit is the power out?” “yeah asshole i guess so” rings out from the living room, george and jerry arguing again

“honey? baby? ya alright in there?” elvis’ comforting voice rings out, as you hear the soft padding of boots swiftly making its way towards you

“yeah! i’m-i’m okay.. just a little nervous honey thats all!”

“well c’mere baby… follow my voice lemme help ya” as he stands by the window with the branch brushing against it due to the harsh wind

he looks like an angel in this light, though you can only see the strikingly strong profile of his face and the shiny silk of his shirt

once you make your way through the dark and to him, he’d rest his hands on your waist and squeeze

“heyy there sweet thing” he’d drawl & you can’t see him but you f e el him get closer to you, his hard chest pressing against yours (just imagine feeling the weight of him pressed tightly to you oh my god)

you begin to relax in his arms as he slides his palms across across your back, almost consuming you whole

“ohhhh my baby what’re we gonna do, hm?” he’d groan out all softly in your ear, holding you so tight and warm against his chest

“elvis?” “yes darlin’?” “im kinda scared” “oh sweetheart” :(

he’d walk you back into the living room, stumbling over the dining room table and making you laugh with a random “son offa bitch!!!” even though it didnt really hurt him

the memphis mafia had already anticipated elvis’ slightly risen temper over you being sad/afraid and his innate need to make you feel better no matter what so they’ve found some various candles and lit them… though don’t be surprised if joe just lit a piece of newspaper on fire and left it on the table

everyone is sitting by the candlelight, munching on snacks and settling in to nap on the recliner chairs

elvis sits on the couch as the storm rages on, and you sit on the plush floor in between his manspread widespread legs, staring at the flickering candle and trying to calm yourself from shaking

another loud clap of thunder rolls in, and you jump at the sound, a startled “oh!” coming out as jerry and elvis argue about a venue

“oh satnin.. c’mere lemme hold you” as you shake like a leaf but manage to stand on your slightly buckling knees long enough to sit on his lap

you lay your head on his shoulder and swing your legs sideways over his lap as he tightly grabs your thigh and puts his other hand at the underside of your hair, slightly scratching your scalp

you slowly start to fall asleep, comforted by his familiar scent; tobacco & rum and something soft & kind like vanilla.

“go ‘head baby close your pretty lil eyes.. ‘m here” and he kisses the side of your head, thumb rubbing your thigh as you succumb to sleep listening to the rain and his beautiful heartbeat

if you have any cute hcs or ideas don’t be afraid to send it in angels <3

[dwellordream]

“Everywhere Europeans looked, the indigenous people they happened upon had their own ideas of how men and women should behave. Chief among them were notions about the kind of work men and women should each perform. These differences were deeply unsettling to the colonists.

…English migrants in the 17th century were not trying to re-imagine what it meant to be male or female. Instead, these first European settlers hoped their culture and their working lives could be easily transplanted. Immigrant women and men would each perform their customary duties; husband and wives would find their roles and their relationships appreciably unaltered.

…Almost every woman who left England for Virginia or Maryland in the early 17th century would have expected to work--and work hard--from the moment she reached her destination. Between 80 and 90 percent of the English folk who emigrated to that region, and virtually all of the women, came as indentured servants. …At first, these young women toiled for men who were their masters. After their debts had been satisfied, they might work alongside their husbands on small plantations. In either case, their labors would be shaped by the broader goal of the regions’ economy: extracting from the soil the maximum possible volume of tobacco, the intoxicating leaf Londoners were craving.

…Conditions in the Chesapeake were mean--even by the standards of those who, like most indentured servants, came from the lower rungs of English society. The average planter was likely to inhabit an unpainted wooden dwelling no larger than 25 by 18 feet--about the size of a modern two-car garage. …The indentured servant’s clothing and meals were likely to be as rude as her dwelling place. Her skirts and aprons would have been fashioned of a blend of the coarsest linen and wool. And her diet, as one traveler to the region reported, consisted mainly of a ‘somewhat indigestible soup’ of ground corn. Not surprisingly, serving girls eking out this kind of meager existence often succumbed to the Chesapeake’s many endemic diseases. Malaria, pellagra, dysentery, and deadly ‘agues and fevers’ killed off many during the crucial first six months of ‘seasoning,’ as getting used to the climate was called.

…On the positive side, it meant that virtually every female migrant would eventually find a husband--should she live long enough to attain her freedom. (Indentured servants, male and female, were forbidden to marry.) But it also meant that English notions of the proper sexual division of labor simply could not apply. In a colony where land was abundant and labor was scarce, a certain degree of flexibility regarding one’s day to day tasks was an absolute necessity.

…For men and women alike, the workday stretched from sunrise to sunset, with time off during the heat of the day in the warmer months. In the winter--the beginning of the tobacco production cycle--an Englishwoman would have spent those hours helping her master or her husband plant crops and enrich the seedbeds. By late April, she might have been called upon to transplant the tiny seedlings to the main fields--a delicate task that demanded the intensive effort of the whole plantation labor force over a period of several months. In June, July, and August, her deft hands would hoe and weed the tiny hills surrounding each plant and keep the plants free from worms. September brought the arduous labor of cutting and curing the mature leaves; this was typically men’s work.

…At first, few women could be found among the enslaved labor force of the southern colonies. Most 17th-century planters thought that strong male hands made better investments. Until the 1660s, two African men were imported for every African woman. But as white settlers began to turn the servitude of blacks into chattel slavery--a lifelong, even hereditary state--the logic of enslaving more women became clear. Enslaved men could labor only so many hours in the course of a day. But, as the masters saw it, enslaved women were always working, even when they were feeding their families or delivering babies.

…Slave women deemed incapable of field labor--the very young, the infirm, and the very old--might be put to work in household service. In the first half of the 18th century, these indoor workers accounted for a distinct minority of female slaves, well under 20 percent. And being assigned to the plantation household was not necessarily desirable. …Slave women who worked in their mistresses’ homes were always on call. Their duties ranged from hard, physical labor like doing laundry and toting water, to such routine drudgery as emptying chamber posts and making beds.”

Jane Kamensky, “To Toil the Livelong Day: Working Lives” in The Colonial Mosaic: American Women, 1600-1760

[how-very-salty]

diet coke

Veronica Sawyer x Jason J.D. Dean. Heather Chandler (mention), Heather Duke (mention)

TW: mention eating disorder

Summary: Veronica is anxious about her weight, and J.D. knows who to blame.

(fluff, talks and a little fightings, supporting J.D., weight anxious)

_________

"Good morning, princess," a familiar, slightly husky voice murmured from behind her, surrounding Veronica with the thick smell of tobacco and motor oil. "Having breakfast all alone?"

"It's lunchtime, weirdo," she pecked J.D.'s cheek with a quiet chuckle and quickly pulled away, rubbing her lips. "Ouch! Why are you so stubbly, oversleeping again?"

He smirked, and carelessly shoved somebody's stuff aside and slumped into the chair next to her.

"Nah, been fiddling with the bike all morning. Damn thing wouldn't start again," he sighed noisily and glanced disapprovingly at the contents of her tray. "Shit, and I was hoping it was breakfast after all... Because this, honey, doesn't even come close to looking like lunch."

With a guilty look, Veronica picked up a leaf of lettuce with her fork and stared at it in disgust. She wanted to eat something normal, like a hot dog or a hamburger, but....

"I'm just not hungry," she shook her head and put the fork down.

Her stomach responded with a treacherously loud rumble, and Veronica, flushed, hastily excused herself, "It's..."

"It's that bitch again, isn't it?" J.D.'s face twisted with anger. "Did she say something about your weight again?"

"Well... if I gain a few more pounds," her voice grew quieter with each word, "I'm going to look like a whale..."

"Fuck," he exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Fuck! You're the smart one, Ronnie, so why the fuck are you listening to her?"

"But I gained weight! And Chandler's my friend," Veronica mumbled insecurely, "it's her way of taking care of me..."

"Well, she already took care of Duke," J.D. grinned fiercely and stared at her; she shivered and stopped talking, "and now, as a 'good' friend, she brings her flowers to the hospital and, I'm sure, still enjoys throwing in a few words about her looks. She's just found a new way to bully her. Am I wrong?"

She silently shook her head without looking up: he was frighteningly accurate. On their last visit, Chandler had brought some blush and advised Duke to "do something about that sickly look. Veronica had never forgiven Duke for the cemetery prank, but at that moment, she'd felt insanely sorry for her.

"Damn it, Veronica, you promised you'd kick Heather out of your life," J.D. snapped angrily, moving closer to hover over her. "But somehow you still let her wipe her feet on you! Would you please stop kissing her ass already?"

"You don't understand," she jumped up and glared at him, her lips pressed together in anger, "I've sa..."

"I don't fucking get it anymore, Ronnie," he stood up abruptly from the chair and almost dropped it. "If you're scared, I could protect you!"

"You can't fight off teasing and rumors with your fists, J.D.," Veronica shook her head wearily and looked up at him. "I've said it before: I don't want to stand alone against the whole school."

"But I'll be right there!" he slammed his fist into the table, causing the trays to bounce and jingle pitifully. "Isn't that enough? ...ah, screw it!"

J.D. turned and dashed out of the cafeteria with a quick stride. With a soft curse under her breath, Veronica grabbed her bag and ran after him.

Fortunately, he hadn't gone far: he was standing not far from the cafeteria entrance, leaning against the wall, furiously trying to wipe the soot off his hands with the edge of his shirt. Slowing her pace, she hesitantly approached and stood beside him. Pretending not to notice her, J.D. continued to rub the stain in silence, rubbing it harder into his skin. Veronica sighed heavily.

"That's enough, but it's... it's different," she stammered, trying to find the words. "I want to make good memories, J.D. I want to remember parties at Mac's, sleepovers at Chandler's, and going shopping with all the Heathers. I want to have fun at graduation! Not just remember bullying and laughing in the back for the rest of high school, you get it?" she asked.

"No, I don't get it," J.D. muttered grimly, rubbing the black mark on his arm in irritation. "It's all a fucking fake!"

"Not everything, just some of it," Veronica put her palm on his arm, stopping him gently. "But even if I fake it somewhere, I won't remember it later. Only the good stuff will stay. Just a few more months, J.D., and we'll be out of here..."

He shook his head stubbornly:

"I shouldn't have told you about the mugs back then, you know," his lips pressed into a thin line in contempt. "If that bitch had died back then, things would be a lot better now. For you and for everyone. The world would be a much nicer place without her!"

"Let's not get into that again," Veronica frowned and drew back sharply. "I'm tired of arguing and proving..."

"Wait! I'm sorry, I..." J.D. quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, "I just don't want to see you in a hospital bed! Not because of that bitch, not because of anyone. What if it had been you instead of Duke?"

Immediately softening, she stepped forward and laid her forehead on his chest. His arms immediately closed around her, confident and tight. Maybe too tight... He sighed loudly and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm not going to take suspect diet pills, I promise. Especially not after what happened with Duke," she muttered into his shirt. Her head was spinning badly: three days of lettuce leaves and apples had taken their toll. "But I am really overweight. And my thighs are huge! Soon it'll be time to buy a prom dress..."

"You have a wonderfully curvy body, darling. And an awesome ass, if you ask me," J.D. hummed, running his hand slowly down her back teasingly; she slapped his chest with a soft giggle, "so just buy a dress that shows it off. And I'll get busy scaring off all the guys who'll be drooling over it."

"You're such an idiot," Veronica giggled, reaching up and smooching him on his stubby chin. "That's why I love you! By the way, is your bike back on the beat?"

"Yeah," a broad smile spread across his face. "Where to, princess?"

"Let's go to 7-Eleven," she shook her head determinedly, "I'm starving for a giant hot dog!"

[feytouched]

Do you have scents picked out for Lyra/A station/any other companions? I feel like it would be fun to think about

OHHH you just blended my two beloved topics into one..... this is a fun one!! these ended up mostly being indie scent picks bc that's where i've found the most interesting, out-of-the-box note combinations.

lyra: since she's very much into herbalism and also a druid, my in-canon scent description of her would be that she smells of weavemoss, musk creeper petals, and a faint scent of animal fur. irl, this would translate into oakmoss, dead leaves, lavender, tonka, and musk. something like sleepy by lush, bacchante by alkemia, or loup garou by hexennacht.

astarion: he makes it easy because he describes his own perfume blend as 'bergamot, rosemary, and brandy'. people have made perfumes following this already, but on a less literal sense, i think he'd also wear caveau des innocents by alkemia, wilde by bpal, or vicomte de balmont by bpal. the former is a perfect den of debauchery in perfume form, and the other two are attractive dandyish colognes.

shadowheart: 100% deadly nightshade by alkemia. this is what a night orchid smells like to me - violets and leather. selûnite shadowheart would also wear amyris femme, i think. it has a citric, clean vibe, and iirc there's in-game text mentioning 'lime soap' for her. and dark justiciar shadowheart would be a dior hypnotic poison kinda girl imo.

lae'zel: nevertheless, she persisted by bpal has a funky metallic edge to it that's an acquired taste, much like our favourite githyanki. somehow i also think she'd suit bastet by bpal (myrrh, cardamom, almond, lotus) - it shows her softer side. bpal fighter might be on the nose, but it's another perfect choice.

karlach: if you wanna go literal - smokestack by bpal will have that industrial, smoky edge to it. however i'm not a fan of it, and i like karlach too much to give her a scent i dislike. she could also rock by the fireplace by maison margiela; it's smoky, but comforting, like her whole vibe.

wyll: incantation vanille by alkemia! it takes simple vanilla and dips it into layers of intense smokiness and it emerges transformed, much like the blade of frontiers. incantation by bpal would also work (peppery, slightly smoky cologne).

gale: whispers in the library by maison margiela is a no-brainer; it smells like books. i think impossibility, like wine by alkemia would also work for him. anathema by bpal (opium, vetiver, honeysuckle) makes me think of the netherese orb so i'm adding it to the list.

halsin: robin goodfellow by bpal (mossy woods, musk & herbs) or miel de sauvage et tabac by alkemia. actually the latter is just perfect for him since he does smoke pipe tobacco + the linden honey note suits his sweet tooth for honeycomb.

jaheira: elf by bpal... it smells like a sunlit pine forest + berries! or eden, also by bpal, which is fig (fruit and leaf), honeyed almond milk, toasted coconut and sandalwood. she'd be a sandalwood girlie, i know it.

minsc: another cop-out but it's gotta be bpal's ranger... pine + buckskin + patchouli, it just works for him

no minthara as of yet bc i didn't really interact much with her in this playthrough! :') maybe next one i'll revise this

[hitsuzan]

am i the devil or a god?

        NO SUCH THING AS A TRESPASSER ON THESE GROUNDS.   surely things slip through the cracks,   or perhaps they only seem to.   the storage cottage is a beast in its own right,   a yawning maw of an entryway,   especially at this late hour.   every fifty years or so she empties out the whole trove and combs through the mountain of her past trades.   the witch's collection ranges from the mundane to the macabre.   a mother of pearl brush that will bless the user with enviable silken tresses at the expense of the beauty of their face and then a jar of eyes plucked from the skull of spirits   (   the more literal application of third sight would be bestowed to the owner but some curtains weren't meant to be peeled back by anyone   )   the curling clouds of tobacco creep through the shelves before she does,   scenting the area and the night buzz disappears from the air to make way for the click of her heels.   

        neither look very surprised to come upon one another.   WHY SHE HAD NO REASON TO,   THIS WAS IMMINENT.   no roads but this and yet even when she crosses that fair head of hair,   the clock remains stilled   (   ah,   now that is curious   )   heavily seeped,   a kocha leaf gaze,   it is sanguine as syrup when it roves over the face of the demigod.   if she sensed something amiss it never alighted upon her features.   ❛   i'm sure you're one or the other to certain people and possibly both to most...   none of the two to me but that's neither here nor there.   ❜   there was no trick speech out there she was incapable of matching with her own.   she posits many such questions to her customers,   in a rhetorical manner,   often it was dance moved through without a partner.   

        ❛   regardless,   god or devil you're going to have to pay for whatever you plan on taking.   ❜   the pipe is flicked outward,   a gesture akin to an instructor armed with a ruler to pepper her words with poignancy.   perhaps he arrived here as a thief,   but everyone left as a patron; that was the way this particular magic was designed.   ❛   i think both are well-known for their riches,   right?   ❜   she knows both demonic and divine alike in equal measure,   a sorceress eclipses both of these energies but she is playing the fool.   made more mirthful by the fact that her ignorance was an utter impossibility given her standing.  

   𓂃 𑁍  THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE PROMPTS ... * accepting .ᐟ 

[snowbaamgyu]

around a week ago i went to a trip with my friends and classmates (an excursion if you want to call it that) and it was straight up the jungle, we literally spent almost the whole day walking around a jungle, rivers, weird insects and all, but we had to stay with some natives from there and they had an ancestral ritual where they squeezed a tobacco leaf and you had to inhale it, it had some side effects but they said it relaxed you at the end, so one of my friends did it and— it didn't turn out well, one of the side effects was nausea but he ended up throwing up right there in front of everyone, i stayed by his side because the rest of people who were there kept laughing and mocking him and when he finished he almost passed out, around lunch time he felt better but no one can get over the fact that he puked in front of us, he literally spilled some on a backpack of one of our classmates lol

[chilapis]

hi almandine ! if i could ask, do u have an idea on what leon would wear for eid (or any holiday!) ? i remembered seeing ur posts abt ur outfit and i rly love seeing / learning abt clothing so i wanted to ask if thats ok 🫶 (@dmclr)

hiiii, clara!! hiiii, I hope today has been much kinder to you so far. ❤️

i actually really like this question because i’ve. been thinking about this since like late ramadan, whoops. time to pull out the notes.

I’d want him to wear the finest material personally; the immediate thought is of silk, however it’s difficult to find silk suits for men/masc-aligned people as it’s considered haram (forbidden) for them to wear the material; not to worry however because there is always my all-time favourite material, which is velvet. Here are some general outfits that I’ve picked out for him irrespective of material!

Of these, I am MOST fond of the lattermost one (the fanciest); it’s a black velvet sherwani set with golden embroidery and a matching golden trouser. I imagine a blue variant of it probably exists and I think he’d look just ravishing in it.

And that is where the… realistic aspect must be discussed, tragically. I do feel that I’d have to get on my hands and knees and beseech this man to wear something so formal and intricate; especially considering that the more skillfully extravagant an Eid outfit is, the more uncomfortable it’s likely to be. But wouldn’t he just look beautiful? It’d match him so well.

However, it he remains stubborn, then I suppose the first image — the suit with the white bottom and the velvet, navy blue coat. However, I’m… not fond of the trousers; it’s a disturbing mix if you ask me and I’m not willing to compromise. Perhaps he’d do better with a pair of yellowish-beige dress-pants if he’d prefer something simpler like that.

I also found another one! Below is a gorgeous blue velvet sherwani; I assume it’d be a tad bit more comfortable from the first due to less embroidery.

Trust me, there are a lot more westernised versions of Eid suits as well but uh… yeah, no. I wouldn’t let him even acknowledge them. They don’t exist, as far as I’m concerned. He is “westernised” enough, that is a whole, grown, white man. No more of that European nonsense, I’m going to perform the direct opposite of colonisation upon him.

After choosing the outfit (and I am ready to beg and sob for it to be the one I picked out first), need begs for slick, gelled back hair, and a clean shave. And after? A suitable Eau Pour Homme; tragically, he appears the type to not pay much mind to the notes in his scents. I feel like he’d even be content with axe body spray. I’m, not letting him embarrass me like so. Fortunately, I adore masculine perfume, or unisex perfumes that you can tell are slightly more catered to a traditional male audience. I’d like to indulge for a moment and imagine him wearing Tobacco Vanille by Tom Ford; it’s unisex, and most people prefer to save it for “special occasions”. It’s a perfectly sensual blend of tobacco, vanilla, and tonka beans; I actually bought it recently and it drives me insane. Imagining mixed with his personal body chemistry & scent makes my brain just Crash.

…On a more humourous note though I’d like to imagine him in a blend concocted by my all-time favourite niche fragrance house; Memo, Paris. “Italian leather” might suit him quite a bit. Not only because of, well, um… 🇮🇹… but also because it’s a sweet, once again fairly sensual, smoky, leathery fragrance. It has tomato leaf, leather, vanilla, sage. The fragrance house is KNOWN for utilising unusual ingredients and he is an unusual man and I love the house and I love him and… yeah, yeah. I’m clearly very normal and collected about this. I can fix him

[turdle]

Okay my favourite bits from OFMD season 2 so far:

-The opening dream fight between Izzy and Stede was so funny. NGL little disappointed that didn’t happen for real but I guess we’ve already seen them sword fight lmao

-‘YAS QUEEEN’ need I say more I miss Buttons

-Zheng in general in the first three eps was just great ‘I know it’s been a day!’ ‘your last act on this earth will be surrendering to a woman’

-Stede not folding after taking the brunt of Lucius’ brooding angst persona like he definitely would have done in s1 and actually giving firm, solid advice?? Dad energy in that scene was off the charts, especially when paired with the comment about ‘chewing the old tobacco leaf when I was young and cool’

-Stede Golden Retriever Energy Bonnet leaping off the boat and SWIMMING to the revenge. Honestly kinda wish Ed hadn’t been comatose because I know his knees at witnessing that would have been WEAK

-Stede finding out that the crew killed Ed and still saving their lives with a clever escape plan that works?? And refusing to let Izzy thank him? Hot

-The crew lined up holding swords at each others throats was so funny and as always Olu with the voice of reason ‘are anyone else’s arms and various limbs starting to ache??’

-The entire red cursed suit storyline SENT ME. Stede has no right looking that good in that suit. And I just loved the whole crew shenanigans of it all, and Stede feeling himself but giving that up for his crew 🥺

-On it’s own Stede’s random little twirl in the red suit after talking to Frenchie and Roach had me HOWLING

-Dunno how I feel about Ed’s punishment storyline but Ed in the literal potato sack and cat bell was so fucking cute

- Stede in the leather pants and blue stop. Chefs kiss. Not totally sold on the Izzy storyline but the Calypso party was v cute otherwise

-Lucius’ ‘how about we just tell their stories??’ sent me.

[cloud-ya]

I think I know the tobacco pouches the other anon was talking about for Hov to use. If you look up 'Samson tobacco pouch' or Amber Leaf/Golden Virginia/Rolled Gold tobacco pouches you should see the kind I think they meant. I used to smoke Amber Leaf from pouches like that and it's old fashioned and not seen a lot so I think it might suit Hov in a weird way

P. S. Love any art of Hov but her smoking was always fun as hell. She creates a whole mood

I see! thanks

[maiewad]

5 alkemia samples

silken tent

first impressions: its a bit disappointing.... smells nice and sweet abit powdery but its extremely similar to a $10 vanilla body spray i got from woolworths.... not worth it so far but ill let it sit for a while.

+after sitting for a while its gorgeous. sweet syrupy golden but not too edible smelling. the angelica adds a soft fuzzy herbal tone that balances the fragrance and cuts through the syrupy texture and keeps it from getting cloying. i cant stop inhaling it. i can smell the candied angelica, rice pudding and caramel the best and the jasmine, tuberose and chrysanthemum are more of a subtle white floral in the background.

★★★★★

aurora

first impressions: stexture eally nice reminds me of those musky perfumes you get from mecca that are by byredo or sum shit... i like it fresh neutral a bit of cardamom and iris.

+the iris is really pretty very buttery and milky not too powdery. i can smell the cardamom, violet, musk clearly and the cashmeran adds a cedar element but i cant detect any ginger. ethereal is a good word to describe it. i was wearing it while watching spirited away the other day and i felt like they were a good match especially soundtracks like a road to somewhere and the beginning of nighttime coming.

★★★★

bohemiens en voyage

first impressions: i put it on tadhg it smells like a hippie perfume but more pleasant and wearable in my opinion. a bit smoky a bit like hay a bit sweet. i tried to smell it again but he had made a smoked salmon croissant and all i could smell was da salmon.

+theres no anise in the notes but the beginning smells like it has a licorice note. i can smell the hay, tobacco and amber in the beginning plus a lowkey background sweetness from the sugarcane which smells crystalised. after about 10 minutes the licorice type note is gone (maybe the tabac leaf?) and i can smell hay, sugarcane and the most gorgeous skin musk. buttery salty creamy is how id describe it which might not sound so appealing but it really is beautiful. this is also a golden coloured fragrance like silken tent but instead of being an amber colour its more of a soft dusty yellow. this scent makes me think of malibu by hole. i think that tobacco hay sugarcane and iris are very kinderwhore themed notes in my mind. my mother said that the opening smells like talcum powder.

★★★★★

the wild atlantic way

first impressions: SOO GOOD..... smells fresh and oceanic and floral and the flowers are like honey-sweet wildflowers this is GOOD ASF..... i like it fr. abit soapy but im still lovin it

+the opening flowers are so sweet and full that they almost smell fruity. they smell bright yellow and juicy and you can really smell the nectar and pollen in them. after ten minutes the flowers arent as juicy but they are still very bright and sweet and you start smelling the salt of the ambergris. slowly the flowers die down and it becomes a slightly floral ambergris perfume. im learning that im a huge fan of yellow florals. i saw someone on reddit say that this fragrance reminds them of a romantic scene in a movie (braveheart is the example they used) and i can see that. to me it calls to mind a scene of green fields bright yellow flowers cliffsides and rough waves. the clouds are thick and covering the whole sky except for one break where the sunlight streams down in rays golden and the bright sunlit landscape is contrasted by the dark grey clouds in the distance and it looks otherworldly. one of my favourite kinds of weathers but yeah i like this scent though i am generally a floral lover.

★★★★★

wings of flame

first impressions: this shit smells delicious like coffee yummy.

+smells edible but not overly sweet. the coffee is almost dessert like and the honey is chewy and amber coloured. it makes sense that the coffee note is described as "golden coffee" because it almost smells a bit like caramel with how rich and deep and sweet it is. i put it on tadhg to see his reaction and he says he loves honey+coffee combinations because its decadent in an ancient way. i can see what he means especially for this fragrance in particular. theres no patchouli in the notes but that was a note my mum picked up on.

★★★★

[bekaroth-reads]

Goncharov and the Symbology of Cigarettes

So, I have plenty of things that I should be working on right now, but the Goncharov brain rot has been hitting me hard.

I know a lot of people talk about the symbolism of time, which is valid and certainly one of the main themes in the film; Ice Pick Joe going as far as smashing the face of a grandfather clock and screaming, “We still have time? Haven’t you realized, Andrey? Our days were numbered- my days were numbered- the moment you walked into that office!”

But! The theme that most people don’t look into as much is the cigarettes. These scenes have some good symbolism and I love it.

When we first see cigarettes is when Andrey walks into Goncharov’s office. We see that there are two cases: a plain, dented, worn out case and a fancy, gold plated, case with leaf designs etched into it. Goncharov takes a cigarette from the old case, and Andrey asks him why he had two of them. Goncharov explains that each case has a different kind to match the exterior- the old case has cheap cigarettes and the gold one has expensive ones that are only not considered actual cigars because of their size. Andrey then asks how he decides which ones to smoke, and Goncharov replies, “The company. All of these people walking around here, spending their money on things to make them more comfortable- things to help cushion their ears from the sound of the people on the streets crying for nothing more than food- they don’t like the smell of cheap tobacco. It takes away their ear muffs and blinders and reminds them of the dirty kids they saw on their walk over here. As for the expensive ones- can’t be wasting those on people who don’t deserve them.”

We can see form this that at this point in the film, Goncharov sees Andrey as inferior to him, seeing as he smoked a cheap cigarette when he was in the office. Andrey, however doesn’t seem to mind this. He doesn’t want to be associated with the rich bureaucrats that he feels are ruining his country and killing his people. We see him embrace not only this feeling, but the role of being the fighter for his cause, no matter how little his efforts might affect, when he boldly walks around the desk, opens the old case, takes out a cigarette, and lights it with Goncharov’s own lighter. “Expensive tobacco always gives me a headache.” He blows the first puff of smoke at Goncharov before walking out of the office.

(Bonus point that doesn’t necessarily have to do with the cigarette theme: just look at the way the Goncharov watches him while he takes the cigarette from the case, especially how he focuses on Andrey’s hands. Kills me every time! 😩)

Something else that is used for the whole, “cigarettes are a metaphor for power,” thing is the fact that Ice Pick Joe is always bumming them off of other people. It’s something that he desires, but wishes that he didn’t as every time that he takes one he says it’s his last one then he’s going to quit. The same way that he wants out of this lifestyle and desperately tries to find ways to leave, but there always one more thing that pulls him back in. There’s more to this later, but I’ll talk about things chronologically so they get too muddled.

Another thing to note in this theme is the fact that Mario, arguably the most power hungry character, is almost always smoking. They even gave him a cigarette in the theatre poster. He’s always seeking power and trying to lord the power that he does have over anyone he can. When he especially lights up is when he’s in a situation where he’s trying to regain authority that he feel like he’s losing (seen in the few scenes where he and Goncharov meet in person, and in the infamous, “eye for an eye,” scene).

Cigarettes also are used to show the two-faced nature of Katya. There is some foreshadowing during the scene where she and Andrey are talking on the balcony. While they are talking, she takes his cigarette. While this might look like flirting, it’s most likely a visual metaphor for her being very advantageous with her stances; wanting to look good to people, but not actually willing to give up her prestigious status to stand up for Andrey or the others when Mario is going after them. This is represented by how she takes Andrey’s cigarette, takes one puff from it, then complaining that it’s, “too harsh,” for her before snuffing it out. She only wants Andrey to have power if it gives her power, and would rather see him taken out of the picture if he won’t stay in her grip, much like she would rather put out the cigarette than give it back to him.

The first time that Goncharov sees Andrey after he’s lost his eye, one of the first things does is to offer him a cigarette. Though there are no words spoken, it is hinted that this is also a way for him to ask Andrey to work with him now that he’s out of favor with Mario. Andrey turns it down, saying that he’s not so sure he likes cigarettes anymore, and that maybe Joe is onto something. It could also be that he sees Goncharov offering him one from the old, tin case, showing that while he respects Andrey enough to want him to work for him, he doesn’t respect him enough to call him his equal. That this would be the same situation that he was in with Mario, but just with a different person to step on him.

The Mario and Joe parts of this analogy both come to a head when Joe finally buys his own pack of cigarettes only to be shortly shot by Mario. In this case, Joe buying them showing that he’s finally accepted that much like his smoking habit, there is seemingly no way for him to escape the mafia life. And, the fact that Mario shoots him himself, and then proceeds to take pack off of Joe’s body shows that he’s desperate to regain any shred of power he can get, even if it’s over someone considered to be pretty low on the food chain like Joe.

The final bit of this we get shown is toward the end where, after taking out Mario as well as stopping Katya from killing Goncharov, Andrey is sitting on the floor and looking at his shoulder that got shot during the whole scuffle. Goncharov, almost as beaten and battered as Andrey, and certainly as disheveled, messes around at his desk for a moment before shuffling his way over to Andrey. He sits down, puts a cigarette in his mouth, puts one in Andrey’s, then lights them both. Then, Goncharov puts another cigarette into Andrey’s pocket. In the end, Andrey wasn’t worth a single, expensive cigarette to Goncharov. He was worth two. Andrey was twice the man that Goncharov thought he was.

It’s implied that Andrey kept closely working with Goncharov even after everything, as part of the closing narration says the line, “After that, I developed a taste for expensive tobacco, though, it still gave me a headache from time to time.”