#ridiculously deep dive

[cleolinda]

Mitsouko (Guerlain, 1919)

Guerlain, 1919, Jacques Guerlain. Post-2014 formulation; eau de parfum concentration; 2002 decant from the Perfumed Court.

(To discuss: what it smells like, why it smells like that, and the struggle to describe this legendary heritage throwback.)

Trust me, these specifications make a difference. A year ago, I read reviews of different versions and took notes on what I wanted:

Do not get samples from 2007 - 2013, pre-2007 will have real oakmoss. Every concentration has different focus. EdP is mellower than EdT. Extrait is "truest."

You see, the International Fragrance Association (IFRA) restricted oakmoss in 2001, and then more tightly in 2009, from what I can tell. Mitsouko is considered a "reference chypre," a textbook example of the genre, and chypres are, by definition, citrus (usually bergamot), labdanum, and oakmoss. (The Perfume Society adds patchouli to this trio.) Like, you gotta have those for it to be a chypre. But Mitsouko is not THE chypre:

Bois de Jasmin: Guerlain Mitsouko : Fragrance Review (New and Vintage):

Created by Jacques Guerlain in 1919, Mitsouko was a variation on the avant-garde fragrance of the period–Coty Chypre. Chypre was based on the startling contrast among the bergamot top notes, the jasmine heart and the richness of oakmoss. Though undoubtedly beautiful, Chypre was brutal in its impact. […] Mitsouko is a kiss to Coty Chypre’s slap in the face, and for this reason, its popularity endures to this day.

So when oakmoss was restricted as an allergen in the 2000s, perfumers industry-wide scrambled to come up with a facsimile; for Guerlain, with a fragrance this storied, failure was not an option. Reformulations everybody hated were, though. Edouard Fléchier took a crack at it somewhere around 2007, and in 2013, Thierry Wasser reformulated the whole thing to recapture the scent everyone remembered. People seem to have been satisfied with that version since.

So I've worn that new Mitsouko on and off, when I feel fancy, for about a year now. I put a little on a card for my sister to smell the other week, and she said, "It smells old." (She'll be the first to tell you that she’s learning what individual notes smell like.) Being crushingly literal, I don't understand what "smells old" or "smells like old ladies" means. Powdery, she said, struggling to explain. "Old." Maybe I haven't smelled enough old ladies.

Mitsouko does smell… weird, by modern standards. Generally, people either love it or hate it, and Results May Vary in a big way; it's worth getting a sample just to take it for a spin (kind of like Not A Perfume or Glossier's You, in that one regard), and to see what a piece of history smells like. Expert-of-experts Luca Turin says it's the one perfume he'd take to that proverbial desert island, but I am but a gentle woodland creature, a basic vanilla bitch; I would be more likely to take something that cost $10 instead of $145. But I still kind of love Mitsouko. Users who review it positively often speak of not liking it at first, then going back to it again and again. They also speak of a "pissy" stage in the middle that might be civet or oakmoss (or whatever represents those notes now); I know what they're talking about, but it doesn't read as anything so unpleasant to me. It's not easy to wear like the simple scents I usually go for, but the drydown is absolutely gorgeous. That's one of the things that makes Mitsouko so interesting to me: it's like two completely separate perfumes were mingled, and the first gradually recedes to let the Guerlinade take center stage.

But what’s in it? “La Guerlinade,” for starters, is a complex foundation that the historical Guerlains have—a house accord. (You could buy it unto itself for a while.) The exact formula is super secret, of course, but it's said to (possibly) include bergamot, jasmine, rose, orange blossom, orris, vetiver, tonka bean, vanilla, and lilac. The lilac—a note I didn't even know I would like—is what shows up on me with both Mitsouko and Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue (1912); it's a soft light purple note that peeks through from the very beginning, and gradually becomes the glass slipper that Cinderella leaves behind.

Over on the official Guerlain site, they tell us a bit more about the reformulation:

A masterpiece in balance and originality, Mitsouko combines a fruity peach note with jasmine and rose centifolia (May rose) flowers. Its mysterious base combines spicy notes with notes of undergrowth and vetiver.

Warm spices such as black pepper mingle with cold spices like cardamom and pink [pink pepper?] berries.

Patchouli essence features many vegetal, woody and earthy olfactory facets. Combined with rose, moss, and bergamot, patchouli forms the base of the chypre accord.

Hilariously, Guerlain also straight up tells you what Thierry Wasser actually put in New Mitsouko:

ALCOHOL

PARFUM (FRAGRANCE)

AQUA (WATER)

LIMONENE

LINALOOL

EUGENOL

HYDROXYCITRONELLAL

EVERNIA FURFURACEA (TREEMOSS) EXTRACT

CITRAL

BENZYL BENZOATE

ALPHA-ISOMETHYL IONONE

CITRONELLOL

GERANIOL

BHT

HEXYL CINNAMAL

CINNAMYL ALCOHOL

ISOEUGENOL

BENZYL ALCOHOL

BENZYL SALICYLATE

TOCOPHEROL

CI 14700 (RED 4)

CI 19140 (YELLOW 5)

CI 60730 (EXT. VIOLET 2)

FARNESOL

Yeah. There's the famous Guerlinade… in there somewhere. They gave that secret away, hidden under a tiny link, because it means fuck-all without proportions or a way to separate it from the composition as a whole. Well played.

A Basenotes user posted a suggested Mitsouko formula that's somewhat more indicative of what those chemicals would smell like (deep breath): sweet orange, lemon, bergamot, elemi, celery seed, tarragon (a component of oakmoss reconstitution), coriander, chamomile, lavender, geranium, ylang, jasmine, clove, anise, castoreum, civet, labdanum, tonka, patchouli, cinnamon, peru balsam, benzoin, vanilla, violet, rose, costus, vetiver, musk, and the famous "aldehyde" C-14: a peach-scented lactone from 1908.

Logically, Mitsouko (1919) must not have been the first fragrance to use gamma-undecalactone, but I'm not sure any other has survived the ages like this one. Carter Burr (another top expert) writes that Jacques Guerlain most likely got it from the supplier Firmenich, via their Persicol peach base:

C-14 was a marvel, a fruity, aromatic, delicious scent that gave ripe peach skin. Guerlain plugged C-14 into the equation perfectly (the rumor is, actually, similar to Chanel 5, that he in fact accidentally overdosed the stuff; who knows), and Mitsouko became a thing of subtle opulence, strength and balance and silken twilight.

Sidebar: peach is one of my favorite fragrance notes. It's in Tamora, one of the first BPALs I ever tried twenty years ago; I don't know what the actual peach accord in that oil is, but it's still probably my favorite Black Phoenix. No matter how weird people said Mitsouko was, I was GOING to try it for that landmark peach lactone. And that's what shows up at first for me. I do get that Guerlinade lilac peeking through, but the opening as a whole is a spicy autumnal peach lying on the dead-leafed forest floor, more velvet than flesh, Octoberish and unseelie. That first sequence is intriguing, and then it warms up into that unpleasant stage; then that uneasy note fades and the Guerlinade comes fully out, a soft pale purple-blue siren song floating by on a powdery cloud. Those are the two perfumes that seem to be twined: bewitchingly different, each one blended so smoothly that I can't distinguish all the notes within them, yet not quite blended together.

And that's just my own reaction. Watching Fragrantica reviewers describe Mitsouko is a pastime unto itself. It smells like power, sex, domination, old money, "strangely nutty," depressing, elegant, fascinating, bitter, ripe, like oil paint, "an old medicine cabinet," pungent, tangy, moldy, intoxicating, alienating, feminine, masculine, unisex—to quote frugally:

User Aerides: "Mitsouko is gloomy Sundays, walks in the woods after it rains, and empty auction rooms. […] It's incense and burning candles, and waxy floor polish. It's cinnamon peach jam. It's a bouquet of lilacs on the dining room table. It lasts so long it's like a ghost in the room."

User Amararata: "There is something vampire-like about this fragrance. It's the sort of scent a woman leaves behind after she's conquered a man, or a kind of lascivious tryst in the middle of the day."

User querty988: "For some reason, those stinky little [camphor-clove] whiffs endeared it to me. It was like the baby from Eraserhead whispering in my ear, 'yes, I am the most revolting thing you've ever smelled, but I'm here with you in public today, and it's our little secret that I belong to you.'"

User KingRidesBy96: "Can't explain it. Don't want to. She's a witch, it's magic."

Mitsouko is weird as hell, and yet, thanks to the “waxy floor polish” review, and (I swear) a review someone wrote that I can't find now that mentioned linseed oil, furniture, paint, and his wife, I knew exactly what Mitsouko was going to smell like. And I was right. And I think that the mental preparation is incredibly important here. Not to be snooty about what it takes to "appreciate" a perfume like this, but to frame for you where this being of times past is, at least, coming from. Mitsouko is Aslan, present when the Deep Magic was written in 1919, whether the Deep Magic smells good on you or not.

Further reading linkspam

Bois de Jasmin: What Does The Word Mitsouko Mean?

It’s the French spelling of a female Japanese character’s name (Mitsuko, “child of light,” “shining child”) from the 1909 French novel La bataille (“The Battle”); Jacques Guerlain was friends with the author, Claude Farrère, so this is thought to be the most likely namesake. Wikipedia:

The novel is set in Japan during the 1905 Russo-Japanese War, and chronicles a fictional amour fou between a British Navy Officer and one "Mitsouko", the wife of Fleet Admiral Marquis Yorisaka. Both Yorisaka and the British officer sail to war, and Mitsouko awaits with reserve to see which of the two will return alive to her.

Maybe this is reflected in the duality I’m getting from the perfume, I don’t know.

Isn’t all this very orientalist? Why, yes! Our antique faves are as problematic as ever!

Ayala Moriel: Olfactory Orientalism

Arts of the Working Class: Journey with Mitsouko and Mitsuko

More technical discussion:

Persolaise Review: Mitsouko from Guerlain (Jacques Guerlain; 1919 [and Thierry Wasser; 2013/14]):

Suffice it to say that whether it’s because [Wasser] increased the dosage of vetivert in the base, or he revitalised the citruses at the top, or, most interestingly, he created a special ‘oakmoss-like’ accord to compensate for the shortcomings of synthetic substitutes, the result is that the current Mitsouko feels like it has just emerged from the fountain of youth.

The Empress of Moss: Mitsouko

A look at the current state of the chypre: IFRA, Oakmoss, Chypres & Perfume Houses (2022)

Late breaking news: right after I fell down the stairs and injured myself rather thoroughly yesterday, my vintage pre-oakmoss-ban Mitsouko sample arrived in the mail. I’ll update once I can smell it. I also have a 2022 decant of L'Heure Bleue and, uh, about three drops of Samsara from around 1989, so stay tuned for more Guerlain at some point.

[mariocki]

The Aftermath (1982)

"What happens when you die?"

"I don't know, son. No one does."

"It's sad to die."

"No. Death isn't sad. We all have to die. What's sad is having to go on without someone you love. Just as we have to go on now."

[nattikay]

anyone looking for a full workday’s worth of background listening material? cuz this was great, very thorough👌

[magentagalaxies]

very curious if our society (youtube) has evolved to producing twenty-four-hour length video essays yet. bc ik on average the video essays i watch tend to be around an hour, some shorter some longer but this is my preferred length, 2-3 hours is on the longer side for me but if it's a topic i'm into or a creator i like i'm down for it, longest i've personally watched is 5-ish hours (tho that one was broken up into a lot of smaller segments and not meant to be consumed in one sitting) but i know for a fact there are much longer video essays out there. the longest i've seen in my recommended is eleven hours but i know there must be more out there. what is the video essay event horizon? have we reached "videos of nerds (complimentary) infodumping about niche topics which would take an entire day nonstop to consume"

[whoredmode]

wait so what sport do the stilwater sharks play. like the skeeters are the collective mascot for stilwater university’s teams (canonically we know of a lady roller derby team and a chess team), but what game do the sharks play. i guess it could be like a catch-all name for sports teams in stilwater, but surely there’s one team in particular who is like The Flagship Team. is it arena football?? baseball?? hockey??

initially i just kinda assumed something like arena football or baseball but i’m remembering that there IS a hockey team (we see signs in sr1) so that could be the sharks. i kinda like the irony of an aquatic animal mascot for a game played on ice.

[viksalos]

LANKUM // The Tri-Colored House Cold Old Fire (2014)

[the-kipsabian]

do you ever love so much you internally combust and just cry uncontrollably

[ornstein]

Can you tell I've been dormant on ER lore for over two years and I've been catching up on it since only a week ago

[greedbun]

wow… how could you wish death upon other human beings….. wONT SOMEONE THINK OF THE BILLIONAIRES?!?!

[countess-strahd]

getting into ravenloft lore is so funny. every other character page mentions azalin/kargat, strahd, rvr or another big name, usually for really benign reasons. the gentleman caller shows up out of nowhere then dips. everyone has a weird type of fantasy name that's clearly meant to be "classical fantasy name but make it eastern european (badly)"-- or the important ones have the normalest dnd name but are surrounded by aforementioned strange ones. i feel like i need a bingo card

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

PAIRING: JACKSON!JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY | Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | One glimpse of Pedro as Joel in the new season has turned me into a woman possessed. Thank you @undrthelights and @janaispunk for giving this a read for me 💕

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, porn without plot, mild angst, able bodied reader, no physical reader descriptions or age mentioned, jackson era, mentions of joel's weight (in the context of looking healthier in jackson), emotionally constipated joel, dirty talk, praise, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex - f receiving (while standing), unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if i’ve missed any!

A noise breaks through your dreams, a loud banging that startles you from sleep and leaves you blinking at the ceiling. Thoughts still fuzzy, you stumble down the stairs and through your kitchen to the back door that rattles in its frame with each pound of a fist against it. You glance at the neon red numbers of the stove clock and at this hour, there can only be one culprit.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you groan, opening the door. “It’s two in the morning, what is wrong with you?” He doesn’t answer, simply shoulders past you and into your house. “Oh, sure come on in, make yourself—“

Your sarcastic remark is abruptly cut off by his lips crashing against yours, mouth hot and hungry as he skips any semblance of pleasantry and dives straight into carnal desire. His teeth graze your lip, the sting soothed by his tongue before it tangles with yours. Your fingers curl into his jacket sleeves, hanging on for dear life as he backs you into a wall, the two of you hitting one with a dull thump that disturbs the picture frames.

He shoves a knee between your thighs and pins you to the plaster, every sense invaded by him as he continues to consume you. When his mouth leaves yours and begins to leave hot kisses like brands across your neck, you finally find your voice again.

“Joel, what—“

“Shut up,” he grunts. You’re taken aback by the command and you have half a mind to smack him across the head for it, but he’s got his teeth on your earlobe and he adds, “I just, I need this, okay? Please?”

The fight leaves you in one fell swoop because you’d do anything for Joel if he just asks nicely. You nod and he returns to his task of turning you into a puddle with a single minded determination. When you start to rock your hips against his denim clad thigh in a desperate bid for friction, you feel, rather than see, the grin on his face.

“Mm, just as needy for me, ain’t you?” He teases. You frown.

“Don’t push your luck, Miller,” you snap. He laughs, a deep rumble that reminds you of the thunderstorms in the spring. “I can still kick you out of my house.”

“You won’t.” Confident, cocky, a man who knows he has you in the palm of his ridiculously skilled hands. “If you’d been smart, you would have kicked me out the first time. Now I’m just like a stray dog, ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.”

The first time, when he showed up in Jackson with a chip on his shoulder and a frown on his face. His hair had been shorter, his frame a bit smaller, his eyes a lot more vacant. He walked you home one night from the Tipsy Bison and when he kissed you under the glow of your porch light, his mouth tasted like whiskey, not unlike it does tonight.

Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

While your thoughts drifted to the past, Joel has dropped to his knees and is curling his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your thighs.

“In the kitchen? Really?” You huff. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs.”

“Too far,” he says, tossing your underwear aside.

Despite your complaints, there is something undeniably sexy about having Joel kneeling before you, impatient enough that he’ll take you right where you stand. He shuffles closer, lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and lavishes your clit with broad swipes of his tongue.

Your head drops back as you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls out every trick in the book of your pleasure, alternating between fast circles and sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips. It’s not long before you’ve reached the precipice of your release, teetering on a razor thin edge before finally falling into oblivion with a gasp of his name. He groans against you as you come, waves of it rolling through you.

“So fuckin’ good,” he says as he pulls away. You look down at him with a half-lidded stare, his chin wet in the low light and his own gaze dark with lust. He stands, slowly, with a bit of a wince because of his bad knee that he tries to hide with a grin. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you away from the wall and into his arms where he kisses you, his lips and tongue drenched in your taste. He walks you back to your little kitchen table, kicking a chair out of the way so that he can turn you to face it, a palm between your shoulder blades urging you down until you’re bent over the wooden surface.

The clink of his belt buckle falling to the linoleum makes your muscles clench in anticipation. Joel’s palm smooths down your back, almost reverently, before reaching your ass and giving it a rough squeeze.

“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” He asks. You turn your head, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Me? I’m not doing anything, I’m waiting for you to quit teasing.”

“That’s just it,” he says, sliding the head of his cock through your messy pussy before notching himself at your entrance. “You ain’t gotta do anythin’ except exist and you’ll drive me crazy.”

Any response you had dies a swift death as he presses inside of you, filling you in the most tortuous way. The ache of the stretch quickly fades as he bottoms out with a deep groan, his hands gripping your waist tight enough that you know you’ll feel the phantom sting of bruises in the morning. He sets a rough, demanding pace, the sound of skin against skin cacophonous in your little kitchen. You can’t hold back the noises of pleasure he wrings from you as he slams in deep with each thrust and pulls out so far that you’re practically empty before doing it over and over again.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, so tight,” he grunts. You arch your back the slightest bit, changing the angle so that each drive of his cock drags against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and whimpering his name. “God, that’s it, sweetheart. Take it so pretty.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Beggin’ to come again?” He asks. “So greedy, ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Need to come, please, Joel!”

“I gotcha, baby.” His hand slips between your thighs and his fingers pinch your sensitive clit. “Come on, come on my cock so I can fill you up.”

It’s an empty threat, but one that works. Your muscles go tight with your second orgasm, your cunt pulsing around him as his thrusts grow erratic, uncoordinated as he chases his own high. He pulls out just seconds before making good on his word, painting your skin with warm release.

As you catch your breath, his warmth leaves your side. You vaguely register the sound of running water before a cold rag is wiping away the mess on your ass and cleaning up the slick between your thighs, the rough fabric over your sensitive flesh making you jump. Joel shushes you, another pass of his soothing palm down your back as he finishes wiping you clean.

You stand up straight on shaky legs and collapse in the chair that he’d kicked from the table to make room for your bodies. He’s already pulled his pants back up, the only evidence of your tryst in the sheen of sweat on his brow and his hair in disarray. His jaw grows tense as you watch him and he shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the awkward aftermath.

“Thanks,” he says. “Needed that.”

“So you said,” you reply. “Did something happen?”

“Just some bullshit with Tommy.”

“Brother bullshit or town bullshit?”

“Bit of both.”

“Oh.”

He nods, glancing at the door. “I should get goin’.”

“Right.”

Joel doesn’t move for the door, though. No, he steps in close, taking your face in his warm hands and kissing you softly, gently, a wild juxtaposition to his earlier attentions. When he pulls away, you can’t help but reach up and smooth a thumb between his eyebrows, trying smooth the line of concern there.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whisper. You’ve said it before. You’ll say it again. You’ll keep saying it, until the ship that passes you in the night returns to your harbor.

“I do,” he replies, stepping back. You give him a tired smile.

Tonight isn’t that night.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed! You can find more of my writing below:

Joel Miller masterlist | All character masterlists

[thefictionshelf]

can't believe the sun and the star is out. shaking etc etc

[demilypyro]

Ok so hear me out cause I know it's ridiculous but I deep dived on this and it all checks out.

This probably isn't anything more than "implied" status but yes after someone told me about it I looked into it and I'm pretty confident that Rabbid Peach is indeed supposed to be transfem. The major evidence comes from the official Rabbids instagram account. a lot of the old posts are gone but have been preserved as screenshots.

Before the first game with Rabbid Peach in it, the Rabbids instagram account was run by a random generic rabbid, seen in selfies below. This character regularly posted selfies and life updates. As this is one of the indistinguishable rabbids, we can't be entirely sure that they're all the same character, but some of the posts reference eachother, which does seem to imply a single consistent rabbid using this account.

What's interesting here is that the longer the account existed, the more often this rabbid was depicted wearing feminine accessories. In the very first image (left) they appear quite masculine, but as the account went on you started seeing more and more dresses and necklaces. In this second image they refer to themselves as "Queen Bwaaah" only a month before the announcement of Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle.

After Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle is announced, the account was rebranded to be Rabbid Peach's personal account. Now, every single post is by Rabbid Peach. Rabbid Peach is characterized as being rather vain and taking a lot of selfies, so the posting style is exactly the same as that of "Queen Bwaaah."

Ok but this could still be a coincidence right? Here's the smoking gun. In a post by "Queen Bwaaah" from before the rebrand, we see this rubber duck with a spiked collar. It's kind of random but it's pretty unique right? Well 6 months later, in a post by Rabbid Peach, another rubber duck with a spiked collar appears. This is pretty definitive proof to me that "Queen Bwaaah" and Rabbid Peach are the exact same rabbid.

To summarize: this random generic (male/genderless?) rabbid who was running the rabbids' social media was publicly experimenting with femininity, then became Rabbid Peach due to the events of Kingdom Battle, and has since kept running the account, now permanently presenting as female. Rabbid Peach is transfem thanks for coming to my ted talk what the fuck are they cooking over there

[ddejavvu]

Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????

You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.

You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.

You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.

That's not supposed to be there.

You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.

"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"

"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.

"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"

"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."

"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"

"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"

"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"

Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"

"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"

"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"

"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.

"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.

"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."

"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.

"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"

"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."

[sunarc]

Praisers vs Degraders ~Pussy devourers edition

These boys would devour every inch of you. He’s a passionate lover, covering every inch of your body in kisses. His lips feel so soft pressing against your skin. His tongue glides against your body covering you in his love and devotion. 

“God you're so beautiful” he breathes the words against your skin as he inches closer and closer to your warmth.

Your body is trembling with desire, eyes wide watching as he inches closer to where you desperately need him. 

“Please” the word drools down your lip filled with desperation. 

Your eyes lock with his and you can sense the hunger in him. He’s ready to please you. With one simple word he’s at your service gliding his tongue across your core humming at the taste of you. 

“So fucking delicious baby” he groans.

His hands wrap around your legs pulling your body closer to him. The way his tongue dives in exploring every crease and corner of you leaves you shaking and whimpering.

“It's so good” your words are slurred

His moans vibrate against you as he devours you. 

“Fuck I love you” he groans “Love every inch of you baby, so good, so fucking good for me” the desperation of his words spill from his lips in between each slurp and kiss. He’s hungry for you, wishing he could live between your legs for forever. His fingers dig into your thighs pulling you so close you're almost worried he may take his last breath between your legs. Your heart is beating out of your chest, hand gripping the sheets as your back arches off the bed. It's as if he’s taking every ounce of you with his mouth. 

He’s obsessed with you. His eyes stare at you watching your every movement, loving the reaction he’s getting from you. He needs to see you fall apart on his tongue.

“Make a mess for me baby” his voice comes out in a whimper

“Make a mess and I promise I’ll give you the world my love.”

Characters:

AOT ~ Armin, Jean, Reiner

HQ ~ Hinata, Hanamaki, Bokuto, Atsumu

JJK ~ Itadori, Choso, Gojo

WB ~ Sakura, Akihiko

OP ~ Sanji, Usopp, Sabo

These boys love to tease you. He loves to hear you whine and beg, each word that slips past your lip being a desperate cry for him and only him. His eyes flash with lust as he craves to hear your voice whimpering for him. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. Closed mouths don't get fed, you know that” he chuckles lowly

You let out a soft whine embarrassed at the thought of having to beg. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows how desperate you are for his tongue. His fingers dance across your skin, touching every part of you. 

“Please” you whimper

“Please what baby?”

 You groan, throwing your head back. Having to say the words feels so filthy. It seems ridiculous thinking this way when he’s pushed between your legs sucking deep marks into your thighs and easing the skin with his wet tongue.

“I-I need you to … just please” you struggle to get the words out covering your face in an attempt to hide from the embarrassment “Please lick it” you whisper the lewd words earning a devilish smile from him.

His tongue slowly glides between your plump pussy lips taking in your essence. “Like that?”

He grins watching you nod your head with wide eyes and a jaw stuck open. 

“So naughty” he chuckles as his tongue continues flicking the bundle of nerves between your legs “Practically begging like a slut for me to lick your pussy”

His words leave you a shy mess, hiding behind hands that can barely cover the shame of it all. 

His tongue feels like it understands your body more than you ever could. He’s exploring parts of you that you never knew could be found. 

“Don’t get shy on me now” he laughs as you try to hide from him. “Look at me. Watch me while I make this slutty pussy cream on my tongue.” 

His words go straight to your core. You can't help the way your hands find their way to his hair. Your eyes look down at him watching as he breathes you in, taking you in with each flick of the tongue. 

“I want your juices dripping down my chin, you understand me?” His voice is rough as he grips your thighs pushing himself further into your warmth. 

“Don’t be shy, get nasty for me baby”

Characters:

AOT ~ Levi, Erwin, Ony, Connie, Eren

HQ ~ Tsukishima, Kuroo, Matsukawa, Kita, Suna

JJK ~ Sukuna, Toji, Geto

WB ~ Suo, Togame, Umemiya

 OP ~ Ace, Smoker, Doflamigo, Crocodile

[waitingforminjae]

PAUSEKSKEEJRKWRJEEKEWKGLJKL???????????????????????

OH MY GOD