#dear peachie

[randomfoggytiger]

Seasonal Color Analysis: David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson (UPDATED)

Going into this, I knew David didn’t have a… good fashion sense (even his sister would concur); but it’s always enlightening to see just how bad his fashion sense is. It’s charming, really. 

Meanwhile, Gillian (or her stylist) pinpointed which were her worst colors or worst looks and went crazy with the rest-- an excellent example of knowing the rules in order to break them.

I will be referencing all the information compiled in this Seasonal Color Analysis post to determine their undertone: Hue, or the coloration of their skin; Value, or the lightness and darkness of their saturation; and Chroma, or the bright and low value of their undertone.

TL;DR: David is a Soft Autumn, and Gillian is a Light Summer.

**Note**: For more in-depth explanations (and swatches) of David and Gillian's skin tone, see this and this post.

The Trickiness of This Technique

True pigmentation is often disguised or distorted under differing light sources--examples provided by the edits below--

thanks to @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, post here--

and thanks to @gillyscloset, post here--

but, though I don't have DD or GA in person, I do have a wide sampling of all types of lighting (natural, direct, artificial.) With my bases pretty much covered, I venture forth into the unknown and take whoever along with me~.

HUE

Step One to determining one's seasonal palette: analyzing the levels of warmth or coolness in an undertone.

David and Gillian have one aspect (of two) in common: a red undertone. And, while it would be true and incredibly easy to say his red leans more apricot or cinnamon-- a Warm Hue indicator-- and hers leans more pink or blush-- a Cool Hue indicator-- that might not be the best vehicle to broadly determine undertone.

So, here we go on the long route.

-David-

First, we must calculate the balance of yellow (warm) and blue (cool) in his undertone.

The top left shirt is cool and vibrant, the top right shirt is cool and muted, the bottom left shirt is warm and vibrant, and the bottom right outfit is warm and muted.

The first thing I notice about David's skin is how red it is, even without a tan (top right photo.) The second thing I notice is how red it is in the top left photo, meaning the color is clashing with, not blending into, his undertone. The third thing I notice is how "overpowered" David is by the pink shirt (it wears him instead of him wearing it.) The fourth thing I notice is that the vibrancy of the bottom left warm outfit overpowers him, too, especially compared to its counterpart on the right. The fifth thing I notice is that this principle holds firm with the top right shirt, as well.

This leads me to a few conclusions: David's undertone is red, which becomes more uneven with bright, cool colors. Moreover, vibrancy in general does not suit him, drowning him out in its potency.

Overall, David has a Warm Hue with muted undertones. His worst colors would be Cool Hues with bright undertones.

-Gillian-

Let us calculate the yellow and blue value in her undertones.

The top left dress suit is warm and vibrant, the top right dress is warm and muted, the bottom left dress is cool and vibrant, and the bottom right dress is cool and muted.

Again, the first thing I notice about Gillian's skin is how red it is (particularly her legs) in the orange dress, even if most of it is concealed with face and body makeup. The second thing I notice is how overpowered she appears in the top left photo. Thirdly, that that pattern replicates slightly in the bottom left: her arms and head seem disparate from bright white of her dress. The fourth thing I notice is the more proportionate balance between her limbs and the color intensity in the top and bottom right dresses. The fifth thing I notice is how alive Gillian looks in the bottom right photo: the cool, muted jewel green melts beautifully with her undertone while the gold in her hair and dress appears "apart" from her.

This leads me to these conclusions: Gillian's undertone is red, which becomes more uneven and pronounced with unflattering warm colors. Moreover, its vibrancy is overpowered or elevated by the matching intensity of her clothes.

These conclusions also apply to The X-Files's (bad) Revival wig she disliked: the undertone was warm compared to the cooler undertones of her 90s dye.

Overall, Gillian has a Cool Hue with muted undertones. Her worst colors would be Warm Hues with bright undertones.

VALUE

To quote my previous post (because I'm lazy):

Higher Values usually have lighter or more "translucent" hair, allowing light to pass through it, as well as finer or sparser brows. Golden, grey, strawberry, or silver hair would all suit Higher Values, whereas they would overwhelm the Lower ones. High Value tones look great in lighter colors such as cool pure white, warm ivory white, and other lighter colors. Deep colors near the face tend to drag down and dominant the "presence" of the outfit, making it appear as if the clothes were wearing the person rather than the other way around.

Lower Values usually have darker or more "opaque" hair when in direct lighting, as well as darker or bushier brows. Medium or low value hair colors such as auburn, brown, or black would suit and enhance Lower Values, whereas they would dull or drag down the Higher ones. Low Value tones look great in darker colors such as navy blue, pure black and deep brown. Light colors near the face gives them an exaggerated pale, tired appearance.

Medium Value tones are an exception to the rule. Medium values look too overwhelmed in both very High Value (light) and very Low Value (dark) outfits; and look great in "medium" colors such as grays, lighter browns, and camel colors.

(Sidenote: If a person falls into the Medium Value range, they have exponentially lightened-- heh-- their workload by cutting out unnecessary guess work.)

-David-

Now, we compare and contrast David in different values, Cool Hues to the left and Warm Hues to the right.

Light Value

Light Value doesn't blend with David, washing out his skin tone (in spite of the presence of darker stubble in the second picture.)

Medium Value

Medium Value makes David seem most at home, blending seamlessly in with his mid-tone hair (and even emphasizing his brows and lighter stubble in the first picture, despite the glaring sun directly overhead.)

Dark Value

Dark Value is the most uncomplimentary to David, making him appear dragged down, overly tired, and older than his years (even with the enhanced darkened and cool filter on the first picture.)

David, we see, is a Medium Value.

-Gillian-

Now, we compare and contrast Gillian in different values, Cool Hues to the left and Warm Hues to the right.

Light Value

Gillian is incredibly suited to the Light Value, her vibrant skin coming alive under the dewy, fresh, "natural" makeup style and lighter colored hair and outfits.

Medium Value

Gillian isn't really suited to Medium Value, appearing separate and more muted by its lack of vibrancy.

Dark Value

And Gillian really isn't suited to Dark Values, appearing "overdone", fatigued, and older than her years.

Gillian, we see, is a Light Value.

The Difference in Black and White (and Gray)

And now, we compare and contrast David's and Gillian's Values against each other.

Black

Flash photography rarely makes anyone look pretty, but here it at least amplifies Gillian's "translucent" Light Value and David's middle-of-the-road, Medium Value. The lines and shadows of both their faces are unfairly pronounced; and, in short, they both look like wax figures.

Yet GA has an unexpected exception: because of the vibrancy of her tone (to be further discussed in the Chroma section~), she is able to pull off black if, and only if, she sticks to Light Value hair and makeup. DD stays doomed-- doubly so, because he gravitates to black for his day-to-day wear.

Gray

Gillian rarely wears gray or middle-of-the-road browns-- astute of her or her stylist, as it is the hardest of the three Values for her vibrancy to pull off with any degree of success-- appearing waxy and sickly compared to David-- at home in his own skin-- on the left.

White

David is, again, not looking his best-- not as tired or shadowy as the black shirt, but more pale and washed out compared to the gray-- and, again, his shirt seems to be wearing him. Gillian, on the other hand, shines in this (almost) white shirt, her Light Value complimented by her blonde hair and very light background.

Chroma 

Chroma measures the brightness and clearness or softness of a Hue.

Again, I shall quote my other post:

High Chromas have a brighter, clearer appearance-- with very little brown or gray pigmentation in their skin tone-- and a "dewy" or bright skin texture. Their darker brows usually have a deeper coloration; and their irises are usually "richer" and clearer with defined "edges" next to the whites of the eyes. Supposedly, this gives Higher Chromas an "alert and eye-catching expression. "

Low Chromas have a desaturated or muted appearance-- with a prominent gray or "ashy" pigmentation-- and a "matte" or softer skin texture. Their finer brows usually have a "sparser" appearance; and their irises have a softer, blurred "edge" next to the whites of the eyes. Supposedly, this gives Lower Chromas a "softer gaze" and more "delicate charm."

-David-

Now, we must assess the chroma level of David's skin, Cool Hues on the left and Warm Hues on the right.

High Chroma

He does not blend cohesively with High Chroma, becoming lost in the vivacity and punch of the pink and black (left) and yellow (right.)

Low Chroma

But he does blend cohesively with Low Chroma, equaling the chroma's scale and becoming whole with his overall look.

Gillian 

Now, we must assess the chroma level of Gillian's skin, Cool Hues on the left and Warm Hues on the right.

High Chroma

She is overpowered in the shining intensity of these High Chroma colors, but not completely lost. Because she is Medium Value, GA holds her own, despite the outfit and her skin tone’s lack of cohesion.

Medium Chroma

(Credit to: Ella Ray Style)

Medium Chroma is a blend of the two: GA does not have strikingly solid, clear chroma colors in her hair, skin, or eyes-- pure black or dark brown or clear white, for example-- but nor does she have muted or “blurred” grays dominating her features, either. She sits between the two; and is flattered by neither.

Low Chroma 

While she does not blend cohesively with Low Chroma, GA’s skintone is more prominent-- dominant, in this case-- which also creates a lack of cohesion. The effect, then, either contrasts against it quite starkly (muddying her distinct features, left) or wars with it, ultimately appearing "mousier" (right.)

Makeup: Values and Chromas

How does one balance or play with their Values and Chroma using hair, makeup, accessories, or other articles of fashion?

Gillian Anderson has High Value: meaning she will look amazing in lighter makeup-- which creates a natural, refreshing, and airy appearance-- preferably in purplish pink, pink, coral, light berry, peach, and nude shades. Because of the natural prominence in her face, darker makeup would muddy the clarity and create disharmony by having "too much" on her face. Of course, she can wear whatever she wants; but knowing this information clarifies why she and her stylists likely keep her makeup minimal.

(Sidenote: Although David Duchovny does not wear makeup, one of his characters did. If you search up Denise Bryson, you'll see the makeup artists gave David a Medium Value makeup look: the lipstick gave a Dark Value punch, and the Light Value cheeks and eyelids provided a complementary counterbalance.)

SEASONAL COLOR ANALYSIS: Putting It All Together

The Seasonal Color system takes all three qualities of undertone-- Hue, Value, and Chroma-- to determine what Seasonal subtype a person is. One will be most dominant, taking the primary position; the second will obviously be secondary; and the least impactful aspect of the three will take up tertiary position (and, therefore, can be set to the side when determining one's subtype.)

Again, I recommend trottin' on over to this post to learn more about primary, secondary, and tertiary qualities; however, if that's not your speed, keep reading.

Testing the Options

We're going to do something a little different.

Usually, this post starts out with David each section. However, Gillian's Season subtype is a bit trickier to figure out than his.

First up: Gillian.

-Gillian-

We've discovered she's a Cool Hue, High Value, and Medium Chroma'd individual... but which of the three is primary, and so on?

There are only six seasons with Cool Hue; and of those six, only half combine with either High Value or High Chroma: Light Summer (Light/High Value primary, Cool Hue secondary); Cool Summer (Cool Hue primary, Soft/Low Chroma secondary); and Soft Summer (Soft/Low Chroma primary, Cool Hue secondary.)

Automatically, Cool Summer and Soft Summer are eliminated because of Gillian’s High Value, meaning she is a Light Summer! However, we’re going to go through each option to test out this hypothesis. 

Since I'm far from an expert, it's time to fire up the editing app and start (badly) swatching comparison colors!

Soft Summer

So, what's the difference between the two?

Soft Summer is primarily Soft/Low Chroma and secondarily Cool Hue-- meaning, it can pull off warmer colors if they are soft or Low Chroma in Hue. 

Light Summer is primarily High Value and secondarily Cool Hue-- meaning, its cool colors must be higher in value, with greater leniency towards warmth in their palette. 

(GA is outfitted in Soft Summer colors in the top photo, and Light Summer colors on the bottom.)

Gillian’s Medium Chroma automatically cancels this season from consideration. Despite this fact, we can see the effect that muted purple has on her face-- dragging it down, slightly; and making her eyes appear hollower and smudged. Further, if she were Soft Summer, GA would always look out of place in Hues with a higher chroma (which she does not.)  

Cool Summer

What's the difference between the two?

Cool Summer is primarily Cool Hue and secondarily Low/Soft Chroma-- meaning, it is filled with exclusively cool colors.

Again, Light Summer is primarily High Value and secondarily Cool Hue-- meaning, its cool colors must be higher in value, with greater leniency towards warmth in their palette. 

(As you can see, GA is dolled up in Cool Summer colors in the top and Light Summer colors in the bottom.)

While the muted Cool Summer purple is flattering to her complexion, Gillian looks more alive, supported, and luminous in the Light Summer one. Further, if she were Cool Summer, GA would always look out of place in warmer hues. Gillian can pull off (and is currently) warmer hues in her hair, makeup, and clothes-- as long as their warmth does not overpower the overall value of her Hue. Therefore, she is not a Cool Summer.

In conclusion, Gillian Anderson is a Light Summer~. 

And last but not least: DD.

-David-

He's a Warm Hue, Low Value, Low Chroma kinda guy... but, again, which of the three is primary, secondary, and tertiary?

There are only six seasons with Warm Hue, and only three that combine with his Low Value and Low Chroma. And all three roads lead to one destination: Autumn-- Soft Autumn, True/Warm Autumn, and Deep Autumn.

Soft Autumn is primarily Low Chroma and secondarily Warm Hue.

True/Warm Autumn is primarily Warm Hue and secondarily Low Chroma.

Deep Autumn is primarily Low Value and secondarily Warm Hue.

But guess what? A surprise jumps out from the woodwork: because David has Medium Value, it cancels out Deep Autumn as a consideration (very handy in these situations.)

So, only two choices left:

Soft or Warm Autumn?

Can David pull off Warm and Cool Hues as long as they have Low Chroma (Soft Autumn), or can he pull off Low and High Chromas as long as they have Warm Hues (True/Warm Autumn)?

It's time to bring in some "worsts" and see which looks the least jarring.

Observe the disparateness of chromas on his skin: the Cool, Bright Chroma pink shirt (left) is the first thing you notice from a distance, rivalling and overpowering David's skin tone. Compare his pink to Gillian's in the above section and you'll notice the striking difference: that she is equal to the intensity of bright pink, but he is erased by it. Meanwhile, the Cool, Low Chroma blue shirt (right) is not as "separate" nor as glaringly obvious-- in fact, because it borders on Medium Value, DD can almost pull it off better than some others.

This means that David is primarily Low Chroma and secondarily Warm Hue-- able to pull off warm or cool colors as long as his primary feature (Chroma) is kept intact.

Thus, David Duchovny is (I think) a Soft Autumn.

(Sidenote: This is two-folds hilarious because 1. DD never picks "his colors", which proves his sister right; and 2. DD's infamous pumpkin shirt has been axed from his "Best Dressed" list. Ahhhh, don't ever change, Mr. Duchovny.)

CONCLUSION

So! Both DD and GA are muted with Medium Chromas. Interesting.

David and Gillian can play around with their colors and values as long as their chromas remain the same (the pic included, for example.) Also, Gillian scoped out her worst colors ("gray" or "murky" tones) and avoids them fairly well while David only ever picks the worst colors for himself and wears them with pride. And would we, the people, have it any other way?

What does this mean in the long run?

Well, I got to sharpen my color analysis skills; hopefully you enjoyed the journey with me; and we have some answers to the infinite number of unanswerable questions in this universe. That's good progress, I'd say.

(Fun fact for those who read to the end: Winters and Summers are more likely to have Cool Hue eyes; but Summers' irises tend to shift color because of their muted quality. I suspect Autumns work the same way, which would explain why DD's and GA's respective eye colors look vastly different depending on the photoshoot.)

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[the-phantom-peach]

Who is your favourite champion/sage?

my son <3

[peachy-keenss]

We have undeniable Chemistry!

[peachythinks]

💕🍜🍑💕

[garrandia]

heyyy! I just wanna say your art is gorgeous and I’m obsessed with it. What app do you use…? How do you get such soft brush stroke and smooth rendering? I’m working on smth right now and I just needed some tips because I’m not thar good at digital art 😭 Keep up the great work!

(sorry so so sorry for late rp mi got wintered) uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh *melts*

i did posted abt brushes here and here (w working link! i checked it!) im drawing in Photoshop cs 6 cause im old and duwwana update it im used to it i guess (color wheel is useless to mi cause i dont know theory or anything) for smooth lines its usually smudge tool(finger? i think it calls) its set at 70-80% on a simple round brush. I use it on edges and colour blending so like when u smudge foundation w bronzer. sometimes i just draws with it(its good tool its my friend) the whole thing is that i dont do much of a lineart aside from hands and details and it goes like this i draw line with simple non texture brush and then i erase it till i like what i see and i drop colour like immediately cause i have no patience and i have to see the idea of pic in order to run w it hopefully it was informative (lol no) but hey pls feel free to poke mi more abt draw staff i want how it goes to u <3

[krenenbaker]

I'm doing alright, yeah! my sibling's back in town, I have fresh banana bread, and I'm (hopefully?) going to finish writing another piece today! also, it's my darling eels' birthday, so that's also wonderful!! (*^◡^*)

how're you doing today, hun?

[leatherbookmark]

"ed shot izzy in the leg because izzy blamed the poisonous atmosphere on the ship on ed's love for stede, as if it was something bad, when it was in fact good and made ed happy"

god help me. literally what are those people watching the show with because it sure as hell can't be their eyes. ed shot izzy for talking shit about his pure and restorative love for stede. ed "fuck you, stede bonnet" teach. ed "freezes when izzy mentions a part of stede's catchphrase and goes to threaten the crew with a gun as izzy follows him stammering that he did not mean to mention The Previous Owner Of This Vessel" teach. this ed. the same guy who literally went krakenmode after stede abandoned him and had all of his things tossed off the ship -- along with the crew, "his playthings". ed "you're not a fucking mermaid >:(" teach.

THIS ED. shooting izzy to say "you're wrong and you're fired, loving stede was GOOD actually". ??????????????

[sshoujo-ais]

i turned all my main f/os into barbies is that anything

[randomfoggytiger]

David Duchovny's Face: an Aesthetics Study

(Courtesy of: Deborah Feingold)

Wanting to learn more about fashion and knowing I retain information better by mapping it onto areas of previous interest, I've decided to craft a post analyzing David Duchovny's face-- specifically, its Masculine vs. Feminine dynamic.

In this incredible video by dear peachie (whose research is far superior to and more knowledgeably vast than most other beauty or fashion sources out there), the Masculine vs. Feminine attributes of the face are examined to highlight physical traits and others' perceptions; and how that balance shifts and changes with personal styling, colors, techniques, and ultimately age.

**Disclaimer**: I am a noob.

MASCULINE AND FEMININE AESTHETICS

dear peachie begins Part 1 by stating:

"Our face is inarguably the first thing people notice."

The video then explains the Japanese method of identifying one's overall "vibe" by Masculine or Feminine attributes to the face, and specifying up front that Masculine does not equate to a "manly" appearance (and leaving the audience to assume the same rule applies to Feminine and "womanly" respectively.)

The screenshots below illustrate the basics of this concept; but know that I'm just scratching the surface because of the "only 30 images per post" Tumblr mandate.

COMPARING MASCULINE AND FEMININE VISUAL AESTHETICS

Masculine Aesthetics have angular or prominent bone features to their cheekbones, jaw, or nose bridge while Feminine Aesthetics have fleshy or less prominent bone structures.

Masculine Aesthetics have eyes likely positioned higher on the midface ratio whereas Feminine Aesthetics have eyes likely positioned lower.

Masculine Aesthetics have a long lower face ratio with a longer chin compared to the Feminine Aesthetics short midface and shorter lower chin ratio.

Masculine Aesthetics sports sharper corners to their eyes, mouth, or nose; and usually accompanies this well-defined structure with closer set eyes. Feminine Aesthetics, meanwhile, have no particular structure to their rounded eyes, mouth, or nose; and usually have moderate or farther set eyes.

A simple and easy comparison of the two main (we'll get to that) Aesthetics:

Tzuyu on the left has a Feminine Aesthetic: eyes positioned lower on her facial ratio, a shorter lower face ratio, and softer, rounder, "fleshier" contouring to her cheekbones, eyes, and jaw.

Liu Wen on the right has a Masculine Aesthetic: eyes positioned higher on her facial ratio, a longer midface ratio, and sharper contouring to her cheekbones, eyes, and jaw.

OUR SUBJECT

If we divide David's face into thirds, four facts become swiftly clear:

His bone structure-- cheekbones, jaw-- is softer and less prominent overall, a Feminine aspect.

His eyes sit on the lower half of his midface ratio, a Feminine aspect.

His nose-to-chin ratio is small (shortening his midface ratio as well), a Feminine aspect.

His eyes, mouth, and nose have rounded or softened corners, a Feminine aspect.

(Curtesy of @scullyblues's edits here)

With these facts in mind, it makes perfect sense why David was able to use his softer features fluidly between Denise Bryson and Fox Mulder within a few, short years.

Changing with Age?

An interesting note: personal styling can temporarily disguise the dynamics of one's face aesthetic, but aging might do so more permanently-- the Masculine Aesthetic becomes more prominent with the loss of the natural, youthful facial fat; and shifts a potentially Feminine Aesthetic into a more Masculine one.

As you can see, David hasn't changed all that much as he's aged; but the youthful plumpness to his face has winnowed, exposing more of his cheeks and jaw and adding a touch more Masculine Aesthetic as the years ticked by.

HOW DAVID CAN SHIFT BETWEEN THE VISUAL AESTHETICS

It's possible for a person to shift their Masculine vs. Feminine contrast.

To enhance his Feminine Aesthetic, David (or his stylist) must pinpoint his most Feminine feature and build upon it: since makeup isn't DD's style, cutting and styling his hair into softer, rounded edges highlights the softness present in his facial features.

To shift his Feminine Aesthetic, David's most Feminine feature must be identified and shifted to a Masculine one. Makeup is the easiest way to do so-- applying eyeliner to "sharpen" a rounded eye shape, drawing straight brows into arches to "lengthen" the midface ratio, etc.-- but since that's not DD's style, cutting his hair into shorter or more jagged edges brings more sharpness to his appearance, tipping the balance a little more favorably in the Masculine Aesthetic direction.

High and Low Visual Weight

Technically, the Masculine vs. Feminine Aesthetic doesn't end there, breaking the classification further into four subcategories.

Visual weight is a popular point of discussion in Asian beauty and fashion, trickling over to the West via Tik Tok and promptly getting butchered by the well-intentioned but misinformed masses. Visual weight has nothing to do with a person's weight gain or loss nor an ability to tell their future or fortune based on those features-- it simply maps the regions of one's face where the most "weight" rests, i.e. the "sturdiest" or most prominent part of the facial region. Visual weight is how heavy or light and delicate the facial bones appear.

High Visual Weight has more prominent facial features: higher cheekbones, higher-positioned eyes, and a natural "lift" upward to the face as if the skin were being gently pulled back by a high ponytail. Low Visual Weight has less prominent facial features: lower cheekbones, with the widest point of the face settling down in the lower facial region near the lower cheeks, jaw, and mouth. Neither is more beautiful than the other, of course.

Besides personal styling aesthetics, High Visual Weight and Low Visual Weight affect how others perceive or judge a person's overall "personality": High Visual Weight exudes a charisma that easily attracts attention, seeming more magnetic or vibrant or alluring. Low Visual Weight exudes a lighter, calmer, and refreshing aura, seeming more down-to-earth, mellow, and welcoming or friendly to others.

We need only to look at David with longtime costar and friend Gillian Anderson to see the contrast between High Visual Weight (Gillian) and Low Visual Weight (David.) With age, Gillian's Visual Weight became more prominent-- revealing her sharper cheekbones and chin-- while David's Visual Weight stayed relatively the same (thanks @slayerbuffy for the original comparison here.)

How does this combine with Masculine and Feminine Aesthetics?

Well, Masculine and Feminine combines with High Visual Weight and Low Visual Weight to create four subtypes: Low Visual Weight, Feminine; Low Visual Weight, Masculine; High Visual Weight, Feminine; and Low Visual Weight, Masculine.

How to both High Visual Weight and Low Visual Weight types change back and forth from Masculine to Feminine Aesthetics?

Low Visual Weight types do not have prominent features to counterbalance, meaning their primary visual weight needs only to be enhanced by a personal touch here or there-- the "Maximize" method. Like a chameleon, one feature at a time can be is focused in and amplified to shift an Aesthetic.

However, maximizing High Visual Weight types prominent facial features would create an "overkill" or excessive appearance; therefore, these types need to introduce a contrast in their overall look-- the "Counterbalance" method. For example, if a High Visual Weight Feminine Aesthetic wants to achieve a more Masculine Aesthetic, dyeing their hair a darker color would be a quick way to add more "heaviness" to the visual weight, directly contrasting the lighter, more delicate features they naturally have.

How does this apply to David Duchovny? Because David has Feminine Low Visual Weight, it is easy for him to enhance his more feminine features to skillfully pull off the role of Denise Bryson.

Short but Fun Aside: Exploring David's "Personal Types"

I've heard or read (or both) here and there that David is attracted to women that look like himself; and, whether those conjectures were meant maliciously or affectionately, it piqued my curiosity.

So, in the name of science, I've pulled up his past girlfriends, ex-wife, and current girlfriend to compare and contrast.

An important note: these are respectful comparisons, and are not meant to shame, demean, or unfairly juxtapose these women against each other. Unfortunately, this world is such that I must put a preface up first.

The conclusion? Might surprise you.

While David does have an aesthetic type, he's actually drawn to women with predominantly Masculine Aesthetics, the opposite of his own Feminine Aesthetic.

Maggie Wheeler, Lisa Loeb, Perry Reeves, and Lucy Liu-- and more, but I'm not spamming this post with too many examples-- were his 80s and 90s love interests, respectively. Not only do they have prominent bone structures, higher-set eyes, and sharper corners to said eyes, mouths, and noses, but they also have longer midface and lower face ratios.

Tea Leoni and Monique Pendleberry also have all of these aspects, as well as the close-set eyes typified by the Masculine Aesthetic.

Fun Fact from dear peachie:

"Feminine Visuals are usually selected as the main girl in Asian drama series while the Masculine Visuals are frequently picked as the supporting character due to the unique charisma and individuality of their looks. They can give a strong impression on their audiences."

Conclusion

While none of this information is too surprising, it was a nice little walk down Fashion Lane. Hope you had fun as well!

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #2 ; size kink w shidou ryuusei .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

ugh! ryuusei is so crude ! :( i want to act like a hate it, but he always catches on when i get nervous or shy at his antics and it’s soooo embarrassing! he knows me in and out (literally) especially when we’re havin’ sex. he’s running his mouth, always making fun of how wet aroused i get and how my ‘cunt clenches around nothing like a slut?!’ he doesn’t have to say it out loud… i can’t help but get so shy around him — my own boyfriend! is that so bad!? i think his physique also makes me nervous… >< ryuusei is so tall and so beefy ♡ he always catches me staring! i think he could launch me across the room if he wanted to! i better be careful…

“look at how small this pussy is compared to my dick. are ya gonna cry when i fuck this pretty pussy?” shidou hums, pressing his tip up against your chubby folds, and then comparing his cock against your tummy. a low whistle leaves his lips, accompanied by a cocky chuckle, watching the bulbous heap of his tip nudge against your belly button.

“s—shut up ryuu! y’r n-not that big..” you bite, words faltering when you realize the awfully dumb and bold statement that had unconsciously fallen from your lips. he quirks his head with a grin — it’s hilarious to hear you say that from below him, his body hovering over the entirety of yours and his hand damn near the size of your womb.

“that’s funny.” he gloats, sharp canines making an appearance when he flashes a smile. "you really think so?" his cock slips against your folds, folded upwards as he leans down besides you, hot breath felt in between the soft concave of your collar and jaw. you twitch when he gives your neck a soft nip, hot breath tickling the peachy thin hairs on the shell of your ear.

“y’r g’na see just how big i am when i fuck this pussy till it tears.”

he whispers into the shell of your ear, giving your neck another soft nip accompanied by a nibble from his sharp canines.

“go away! y’b—big fat brute.” you hiss weakly, ignoring the way your cunt clenches around nothing at his crude words. you look away, purposefully ignoring the heavy gaze set on your face to avoid his confrontation — putting up your strongest facade to avoid his humiliation. “look at me.” he growls, fingers pressed into your jaw to turn you to him.

you whine, small, shaky hands pushing weakly at his heavy chest, his skin soft and glowy to the touch after hours of being drenched in sweat. “what, y’scared?” he quips, laying his body down onto yours, enveloping you into his warmth.

he reaches his hand below to take yours into his, pressing a thumb into the apple of your palm before giving it a damp kiss. “give ryu a kiss.” shidou presses his lips onto yours at the same time his fat tip nudges in between your folds, prodding against the very hole he needs to be in -- you need him to be in. you feel his warm pre leaking into your slit, dirtying your slit.

he’s amused at the way you whine into his mouth, trying so hard to wriggle away under his heavy weight and push him away again — but he knows how much you love this. how much you love the power he holds over you, and how easily he can have you under him with a sleazy kiss and a few rubs to your little pussy. “don’t be scared, doll.” he mumbles against your lips.

you hate the way he chuckles when you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his bicep when he attempts to shove his way in. “ryuusei,” you cry, throwing your head bad when you feel the bridge of his cock head fully enter your swollen pussy — your warm folds enveloping him so perfectly, yet wanting to resist him at the same time -- it makes him dizzy. “big, t—too big, help—“

“but y’r takin’ me so perfect. it can't be too big, sweet thing.” shidou thrusts gently, and oh -- you feel every single fucking inch of him. the way his slit drags against your velvety walls, and the scattered veins decorated on the first mere inches of his shaft. every single hump of his prettily decorated cock -- you feel everything.

“don’t,” you cry, feeling the tip of his cock fucking against your walls ever-so slowly. “i’ll cum!”

“on my fuckin’ tip?” he lets out a boasty laugh, pace quickening despite the shaft of his cock you’ve yet to take. “you’re not good at this, doll.”

“no,” you mewl, breaths heavy as you pant. his hand reaches under your tank top, pulling at your pert nipple — sucking it though your thin shirt. his saliva coats the fabric, seeping through to your areola as you twitch incessantly. "wan' cum, cum--"

"stupid, stupid girl. y'braindead on my fuckin' tip? d'ya even have anythin' going on inside that little head of yours?"

"ryuu, ryuu--"

"yeah," he drags out, mumbling against your tit before giving it a mean nip. he urges his hips further against yours, pushing in more cock than you had been anticipating and it makes you scream--

"ryuu--! f-full, s'full, please,"

he knows how hard this is on his sweet girl -- way to much for her and her pliant little body to bare. that's what makes this so fun, so damn great.

"hey . . this little body was made f’me, ‘s i’m gonna need you to act like it ‘nd take it, c'mon. endure it, my doll." he growls, huge arms wrapping under and around yours, pinning you tight against the soft mattress. he envelops your body with a swift grasp, completely hidden under his grasp as if he were protecting you from everything else that has ever existed ever -- like a maternal bear would her cub. you yelp, throwing your head back under his hold as he presses further into your pussy mercilessly, tuning out your cries and whines for him to slow. "fuckin' mine. mine, all mine."

"n'more!" you cry out in stutters, feeling his plump, damp balls press against your ass, cunt stretched beyond belief with little thought left in your head. your folds are spread impossibly wide, struggling to endure all of the man as you warm him. "fuck, shit. w'na stay with my girls forever. just like this." he hisses, pressing a fervor kiss to your lips. he cracks an eye open, met with your low-lidded ones, pupils heavily dilated.

your drowning in each other's sweat, your entire bodies clad against one another. it's so damn hot you might fucking explode -- your remnants would consist of a million beating hearts dedicated to your boyfriend--

"'m the only one that'll ever make you feel like this. don't forget that, dumb fuckin' girl."

[the-phantom-peach]

TOTK SPOILERS

-

-

-

haha,, can you guess where I’m at in my playthrough? ha

[things-i-will-leave-behind]

Dear Peachy,

When I found myself wanting, reeling, waiting for a little light on my phone, a little 'ding', a little vibration, I knew I fucked up.

That's how I knew you got me, and I hate it with all the bones and blood in my body. The worse part is you don't even know it.

August 27, 2023, 11:35pm

-lxdmln

[peachy-keenss]

“He even got my smile….”

Frenemies...

Dee belongs to @peachy-keenss

[thatgirlie-diaries]

Youtube channels for the girlies

Inspired by @prettypr1ncezz

Vlogs:

Adelala

Annika's Leaf

Daiz

Fernanda Ramirez

Isabela Juliana

mira daisy

Olivia Yang

Tips and Self-Improvement

Carolette Martin (spanish)

Elicia Gougen

Manifestelle

Pershephonesmind

Tam Kaur

TheWizardLiz

Academic tips and motivation

fayefilms

Galacsea

Isadora Vera (spanish)

studyquill

Study to sucess

Beauty

Dear peachie

Diana Gaby (spanish)

Isabel Lopez (spanish)

Jessica Vu

Vogue (Beauty secrets section)

Video essays and educational

Bailey Sarian

Jordan Theresa

Mina Lee

ModernGurlz

Psychology with Dr.Ana

Stephanie Lange

tiffanyferg

Exercise

fitbymik - Weight focused

Jessica Richburg - Yoga

Madeleine Abeid - Pilates

Btw, please recommend me more channels! I will aprecciate it 𑄽𑄺ྀ

[froggiewrites]

Wanting

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You have never wanted anyone more than you want Sanji. You don't want to admit it, but as you end up alone together on a new island, the universe seems determined to make you. Warnings: Smut, There Was Only One Bed, Possessiveness (a bit from both Sanji and Reader), Reader really matching Sanji's energy on the horniness here Word Count: 5.6k Crossposted from Ao3

You had never wanted anyone more than you had wanted Sanji.

You hated to admit that tragic, embarrassing fact, but it was true all the same. You wanted him. You had always known you’d liked Sanji, from the moment you met and he threw himself at your feet, knew you found him endearing and silly, but wanting him? That was different. Wanting was real. Wanting was demanding. Wanting had you pacing the deck after yet another dirty dream about your silly little cook, trying to calm down enough to be able to face him at breakfast.

Your bare feet hit the grass of the Sunny’s deck as you pray that this will pass, that you’ll be able to see your dear friend without yearning for him so deeply it threatens to rip a hole in your chest, but every time you close your eyes you can still feel his lips against yours and see his face twisted in pleasure. You huff with frustration, throwing yourself down to lay on your back and stare at the sky. Maybe the morning sun will burn out your retinas and you won’t have to worry about seeing his face at all anymore.

“You alright down there?” His voice is still raspy from sleep, and your eyes shoot open as you use all the willpower you have not to rub your thighs together.

“Sanji!” Your voice is an octave higher than you would have liked to admit. “Hi! Good morning! Um, yeah. I’m uh–I’m fine. Peachy.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about his hands reaching down to grab you. Don’t think about how his dick would feel in your mouth.

Fuck. Damnit.

“Are you sure? You’re a little red.” You finally look up to see his face, his hair a little mussed and his eyes softened with concern. You want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him.

“I’m okay, I’m just, uh. A little hot. That’s all.” You focus anywhere but his eyes, those beautiful kind eyes, because you know if you focus on his eyes you’ll do something you’ll regret. Or maybe you wouldn’t regret it at all, because you’d finally know what his lips feel like.

No. Not now. Not ever. You are not all hot and bothered over Sanji. Not your dear friend Sanji, who is looking at you with so much care it makes you physically ache.

“Do you want to come inside? I can make you something to cool you down.”

You picture being alone together in the kitchen, his practiced hands and talented fingers moving with such purpose as he slices and dices, just to make something to please you. You picture those fingers moving with a different purpose, working for a different pleasure. If you go in that kitchen you fear you’ll do something you can’t take back. “I’m alright! I just need to lay here.” Your voice definitely just audibly cracked.

His face falls a little at the idea that you won’t come with him. You try not to let your heart flutter at the idea he wants you around. That he wants you alone with him. “Alright, well come on in if you change your mind, okay? I’ll do–make. I’ll make anything you want.”

What was that?

Your imagination, surely.

“Of course, Sanji. I’ll let you know if I need you–anything.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a moment before he turns and walks into the kitchen without even a goodbye, and if you didn’t know better you would think the tips of his ears were red. Surely not, though.

You cover your face and groan, rolling onto your front to block out the world. You hear sets of footsteps pass as your other crewmates wake up and decide to leave you to your misery instead of asking. A small mercy, but one you’re grateful for.

Once you finally manage to drag yourself off of the ground, your thoughts filled with simple, unsexy things like cold showers and paint drying, you make your way to the kitchen for breakfast. You come in only on the tail end of the meal and conversation, hearing Nami’s voice dictating how things are going to go on the next island.

“—need to make sure we aren’t separated. There’s an island-wide curfew, and we need to make sure that none of us break it. We don’t want to risk drawing attention to ourselves.” You can’t see her face but you are familiar with the scathing side-eye she’s almost certainly giving Zoro and Luffy right now.

“Why are you looking at me?” Zoro’s voice is defensive in the way it only gets when he knows whatever he’s being accused of is inarguably true.

Nami sighs. “It’s too early for this. Anyway, we’re going to pair up to make sure no one gets stranded alone on the island just in case we miss curfew. I wrote all of our names on pieces of paper, and I’m going to draw–”

“Why do you get to draw?”

“Yeah I wanna draw! I’m the captain!”

“It doesn’t matter who–”

You tune them out for your sanity as you retrieve your plate from Sanji’s outstretched hands. He gives you a soft, sincere smile that cuts to your core. He looks so wonderful like that, when he isn’t trying to woo you and he’s just being…Sanji.

“I kept it warm for you.” He leans closer so you can hear him over the din of voices behind you. Your eyes are level with his chest, his shirt unbuttoned halfway so you can see his entire torso. You need to look away. You need to stop ogling.

You don’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur distractedly. You don’t know if you’re thanking him for the breakfast or for the clear view of his happy trail.

His chest gets closer, and you feel his warm breath against your ear. “Of course. Anything for you.” He’s so close. You could so easily put your lips against his neck. You could bite him right now, make him make such wonderful noises right here in front of everyone.

“Hey, are you two even listening?” Nami’s annoyed voice rings out from the table behind you.

You both stand at attention like navy soldiers the moment she calls for you. Her tone means business. That silly argument earlier seems like it soured her mood for the entire day.

“Of course, Nami!” Your tone rings false, and she gives you a dour look that you shrink under.

“Ugh. Whatever. Important bits: we’re staying paired up on this island. Be back before dark. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”

“Yes, Nami!” You both chorus.

“Great. I’ll start pulling names.”

Your captain pouts. “But I–”

“I’m pulling names.”

“Awww.”

The pairs came quickly: Brook and Usopp, Franky and Robin, Luffy and Chopper, and Nami and Zoro (to Sanji’s audible displeasure). You laugh along with everyone else for just a moment at Sanji’s fit before you realize what it means.

“God, if it pisses you off that much then just switch partners with me!” Zoro’s voice is filled with annoyance, his eye turning to you.

Sanji pauses for a moment, his eyes finding yours, and you can see pure and utter euphoria hit him when he realizes. The fury at Zoro’s suggestion hits a moment after. “No way in hell, mosshead!”

The bickering continues, as it always does, and you try to calm your thoughts once again. A day alone with him. A date, perhaps. You imagine at first walking hand in hand while shopping, stopping in a cafe to enjoy together, and other simple domestic things that make a small lovesick smile make its way onto your face.

And then you remember your dream, hear his lovely voice cry out in a broken whine, and your silly daydreams turn to dark alleys and frantic, fumbling hands taking what they need before you’re caught. You imagine getting to run your hands down his torso, following the teasing trail of hair you saw earlier down, wrapping your hands around him and making him whimper.

You stop your thoughts because you are in front of an audience and are going to lose your sanity if you allow yourself another moment of this.

Sanji and Zoro have stopped fighting, and the crew is pairing off as everyone decides their tasks for today. Zoro has been designated Nami’s shopping bag holder, and his protests fall on deaf ears as the conversations continue without him. You and Sanji will be grocery shopping, of course. He has the list ready to go, which means all you need to do is keep him company and try not to get jealous when he inevitably hits on a stranger. You can do that, grit your teeth and give tight-lipped smiles that hopefully hide the taste of iron on your tongue. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll reject him, refuse to give him the time of day, and he’ll turn to you as he licks his wounds. He’ll find comfort in you, and you’ll gladly give it. You can ease the sting of rejection as he eases the yearning ache in your chest.

As the crew moves to leave the kitchen, Zoro begins to lean over to you, presumably to make some gruff joke about how miserable your day will be with Sanji, wearing a smug grin hiding the boyish amusement he gets from teasing the man he would never admit is his friend. Before you can hear it, give him a soft laugh and a roll of the eyes, your vision is filled with the soft blue of a slightly unbuttoned shirt and there’s a large, gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I said hands off, mosshead.” Sanji’s voice holds more hostility than you’d expect. Most days even their worst of fights have an air of levity to them that they would never admit, but this has real anger behind it, venom spitting from his lips in a way you had never heard. The hand on your back presses firmly, commandingly, in a way that makes your knees weak. “Let’s go, angel.” His voice softens, then, not filled with the candied sweetness he saves for his usual flirtations, but the type of tender sincerity and affection saved only for a small inner circle you are forever grateful to be a part of.

“What, I can’t talk to her? Possessive pervert.” There’s less anger behind Zoro’s words and more confusion, but you can hardly hear it as the door slams firmly shut behind you. Sanji’s breathing is labored with anger, his shoulders drawn tight, but you hardly notice over the feeling of his fingertips on your back, brushing just above your ass, so close to moving lower. His hand moves to your hip instead, grabbing firmly, not enough to bruise but enough that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to.

“Sanji? Are you alright?” Your voice is hesitant as you try to keep the lust out of it, but he seems to take it as discomfort. His eyes widen, his hand immediately leaving you, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the loss. He, of course, takes this as pain.

“Oh god, darling did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I–”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sanji, I’m fine. I was just worried about you.” You give him a reassuring smile, teeth only slightly clenched from concentrating on anything other than how strong he felt, on how good it felt to be held, on the feeling that his fingerprints have been burned onto your skin even though the fabric of your shirt.

His face is troubled, his eyes watery from even the idea of hurting you, but he relaxes when you take his hand in yours, gently rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’m fine. I just can’t stand the idea of you running off with mosshead and him getting you lost. He’d probably leave you alone in the woods somewhere.” The words ring falsely in your ears. He hates to admit it, but he trusts Zoro to protect you, no matter the situation. The safety of the crew is one of the few things they’ll always agree on. He does not and would never think Zoro would leave you for dead.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Sanji goes quiet, unable to bring himself to disagree, to lie to your face a second time. What was he thinking? “Yeah, I…I know.” His voice is weak and strained, but before you can pry further he starts to walk ahead, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket, clearly shutting down the conversation. You stare longingly at his back for a moment, at his broad shoulders, before following in his footsteps.

Shopping is tense, at first, as he tries and fails to calm down, but you eventually find a rhythm. You both fall into each other, a brush of the hands here, a hand on the arm there, the pull so magnetic you cannot help but follow it. Eventually you find yourselves walking hip to hip, you holding his arm, pressing it to your chest incredibly deliberately as he tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t notice. He keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you revel in the attention, preening under his wanting gaze. Your thoughts are about nothing but him, nothing but his shining blue eyes lingering on your chest, nothing but the hard stops he keeps making so your tits press even harder into his bicep.

He’s looking at you. God, he’s looking at you, no one else. Your chest tightens at the idea it could always be like this, that he could be yours.

Neither of you notice how late it’s gotten until the sun is already more than halfway behind the horizon. You’re reluctant to break the tension as he pulls you closer when you walk past a group of rowdy drunks, but you remember Nami’s warnings and your blood runs a little cold.

“Um, Sanji? Do you know what time it is?”

He checks his watch with no sense of urgency, clearly not grasping the situation. “It’s almost nine, why?”

“Curfew is at nine thirty, isn’t it? And the ship is…” you think for a moment, “about an hour away?”

He stops in his tracks, causing your chest to press against him again. “Ah.”

A beat of silence.

“Nami’s going to kill us.”

“I think you’re right.”

“The marines will notice us if we’re out past curfew.”

“Right again, my dear.”

“We’re fucked.”

“Mhm.”

More silence, stretching further and further as reality sinks in.

“I…guess we should find somewhere to stay?” Your voice is a little meek.

“I guess so.” He tries to keep his tone even, but there’s something almost mischievous behind it, something you can’t place. The ends of his lips twitch into an almost smile before he stops it. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you pray it’s something perverted. Maybe today he’ll get brave and act on it and you’ll have an excuse to throw yourself at him, give into the feeling you’ve been fighting all day.

You both attempt to find an inn with two open rooms, but the first three are fully booked with drunks who have beaten you to it. The curfew inches ever closer, and you still have nowhere to stay. If you stay on the street and get caught by the marines, you know Nami will kick your ass for alerting them to your presence. She probably already will for how long you’re delaying your journey. You focus on Sanji’s arm resting around your shoulders to ground yourself and ignore the dread creeping in and settling in your bones.

You finally find an inn that will take you, but you immediately run into a problem. Or what you’ll pretend is a problem.

“Please tell me you have availability.” Sanji’s voice is tinged with desperation as the clock ticks down.

 The woman working the desk seems exhausted, having clearly dealt with much worse customers than yourself earlier. “Is a queen bed okay?”

“A queen bed, like singular?” You put on a good show of acting confused and a little upset, hiding your giddiness well.

“Oh, are you two not–” Her eyes are lingering on where you’re connected, your arms wrapped around his. “I’m sorry, I assumed–well. Um. We only have one room left, I assumed you would want to share it.”

“One room?” Sanji’s voice gets a little loud, and a stranger would mistake this for anger or upset, but you can hear excitement in his tone. He glances at you again, at your face, at your chest, at your legs, admiring you for just a moment, certainly imagining something that would make you flush. “Only one room?”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. We really only have one. If that doesn’t work–”

“It works.” You both speak quickly. You pretend you don’t see him visibly fist pump when he thinks you aren’t looking. He pretends he doesn’t see you excitedly rock on your feet, a visible twinkle in your eye. The woman hands you a set of keys, and you’re both off.

As you walk to the room, you talk around it, pretending you both aren’t absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. 

“I can’t believe they only have one room. I know it’s busy, but this place is massive. It’s hard to believe it’s fully booked.” You try to sound annoyed, but a giggle makes its way into your voice as you imagine being tucked into the single bed with Sanji’s arms around you.

“It’s ridiculous. And with only a queen bed? Not even two twins? Or a king? It’s the most inconvenient it possibly could be.” He can’t fight his smile when he says only a queen, as he imagines both of you having nowhere to run except into each other. He could cry at the idea of having an excuse to hold you close, to feel you pressed against him with your head resting on his chest. It’s so domestic he could pretend it was real.

You both perfectly match each other’s steps in this liar’s dance even when the door closes, even when there’s not a single person to call you on it but each other. You cannot admit that you want this, out of fear that it might shatter the feeling of giddy excitement surrounding you both. You cannot put to words what is happening, lest you make it real. Real has worries attached to it, questions of the future and what this all means and what it changes. If you stay quiet you stay in the dream, where instead the only thing you have to think about is the pounding of your heart and the comforting heat of another next to you.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says, visibly upset by the idea. He has to offer you the choice, he is a gentleman, but his eyes are pleading for you to deny the idea and welcome him into your bed.

“Don’t be silly, Sanji. You don’t need to ruin your back, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You leave out the internal pleading for him to come closer as soon as humanly possible. He can’t know how you may be even more desperate for him than he is for you.

“You’re an angel, my dear.” His smile now is genuinely affectionate, filled with a fondness that makes your chest ache. He looks younger like this, unburdened. “Well, let’s not wait, hm? I bet you’re exhausted.” His hands reach for the buttons of his shirt, and you watch, enraptured, as he slowly undoes each of them, revealing more and more of his body to you. You’ve seen it before, due to his favor for open silly Hawaiian shirts, but you can’t help but swallow at the sight, eyes never daring to look away. He’s so beautiful. He’s so strong.

You wonder if he could break you.

You wonder if you could break him.

He slips the shirt off easily, his hands moving down to his belt, the clink of the buckle sending a shiver down your spine and breaking you out of your trance. You can’t let him undress while you stay fully clothed. It’s rude. You let your hands slide down to the hem of your shirt, swiftly removing it, and he stops in the middle of unbuttoning his pants to stare, jaw slacked. You can see him grow hard at the sight of your chest as his eyes bore holes into you. His gaze is burning, his pupils blown out, his breathing growing heavy.

“Sanji?” You reluctantly call out to break the spell, not wanting your masquerade to end quite this soon.

“Yes? What is tit–it?” His eyes haven’t moved a centimeter, honed in on where your breasts spill over your bra.

“You’re staring.” You keep your tone teasing. His eyes finally trail up to your face, where he finds a twitching smile as you try to hold back your giggles. His expression shifts from lustful to lovestruck as his eyes soften and his smile widens.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, breathlessly.

“So are you.” His smile widens further as he finally looks away from you, suddenly bashful. His cheeks are flushed slightly pink, and you finally break and huff out a laugh. It isn’t seeing you half naked that gets him, or the idea of sharing a bed, or the lustful thoughts he’s certainly been having all day. It’s a simple compliment, not even a particularly good one, that flusters your dear cook. It makes you want to take his face in your hands and place kisses all over it, with a tenderness that would make its way under his skin, marking him as well and truly loved. It makes you want to drop to your knees and worship him, take him into your mouth and not stop until he’s utterly spent and crying from the overstimulation. It makes you want him, in every meaning of the word.

But you don’t want to break the illusion yet, still a little nervous about being the first to step over the line, so instead you slide your thumbs beneath the waistband of your jeans and quickly step out of them. You make your way to the bed, making a show of throwing yourself onto your back, bouncing a little as his eyes eagerly take in the movement of your breasts, your thighs, every inch of you. After allowing him a moment to admire, you shift to pull the blankets over yourself, tucking yourself in. You’re going to play your part. But you’re allowed a moment of fun. You look up at him, doe eyes blinking and arms outstretched welcomingly. “Sanji, aren’t you coming to bed?”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes turning to your face, and in that moment you swear you can see into his head. You see dreams of the two of you intertwined, not sexually, but just…together. You see his head resting against your chest, eyes closed in absolute bliss. You see the soft sunlight of the morning bathing you both in gold, warming you to your bones. You see a different scene, the two of you in a more intimate embrace, bodies pressing closer than you thought possible, hips moving and hands everywhere, a tender moment that almost feels like worship. You see an entire life together, every little moment, and you see Sanji’s eyes fill with tears at the idea of it.

He rips his pants off, practically diving into the bed with you, and his arms wrap around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into your chest, nosing between your breasts, and somehow still keeping up this silly ruse, he mumbles, “This bed’s pretty small. Guess we’ll have to get even closer.” He pulls you tighter, and you’re almost sure he can’t breathe from how much he’s pressed his nose into your skin. You giggle, and you can feel him smile against you. He places a kiss right against your sternum, gentle and affectionate, before pressing one up slightly higher, then one higher than that, as he makes his way up to your neck. His facial hair rubs against your skin, the ticklish feeling making you laugh even more. He places one final kiss where your jaw meets your neck before pulling up to whisper in your ear. “Can I please kiss you? I think I’ll die if I don’t.”

“Please do,” you whine out. He doesn’t wait another moment before your lips crash together, teeth briefly clacking together in his excitement before it softens into something more tender and intimate. He groans softly into your mouth, lips parting, welcoming you in. You gladly accept, and he fully pins you beneath him and you explore each other’s mouths.

His hands slide underneath you, one pulling you upward into him as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra. The moment it releases, he swiftly tosses it behind him, breaking your kiss to stare at your chest. His mouth is slightly agape as he pants, eyes wide, taking in the sight. He looks as though he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches out as he takes in every inch of your breasts, before he eventually reaches a shaking hand out to brush his fingers against your skin. He lets out a quiet breath of awe. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. A goddess. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Sanji. This is a dream come true.” Your voice is quiet with the vulnerable admission, and his eyes leave your chest to meet yours.

“You dreamed of this?” He sounds like he really truly can’t fathom the idea.

“Dozens of times. Almost every dream I have is about you. Last night I–” You stop yourself in embarrassment, face flushing.

He leans closer with an intensity he usually saves for battle. “Last night? You dreamed about me last night?” His eyes are boring into you, stripping you bare, staring straight into your heart and soul.

“Yes,” you softly admit. “I dreamed about you last night. About this. The real thing is so much better.”

“Oh god,” he breaths out, before he kisses you again, hard and fast. His hands envelop your tits, groping and squeezing. You can’t stop yourself from keening into his mouth when his fingers brush against your nipples, and you can feel him grind against you when he hears. His hardness presses against your bare thighs, showing how badly he wants you. He grabs at you like you’ll disappear between his fingers, fade away like all of the dreams that have been haunting you.

Another pinch at your nipples makes you cry out, and you pull back, begging, “Sanji, please, more!” You want to feel his fingers inside you, his tongue, his cock. Any and everything he could give you you want, and you feel so sure that he would gladly let you take it. He would give you the heart out of his chest if you asked.

He moans as his bulge rubs against your thighs again. “Fuck, of course, angel. Whatever you want.” He slides lower, and you feel his fingers slide along the fabric covering your slit. He carefully traces a path up to your clit, lightly pressing against it through your panties, making you suck in a breath. His eyes travel between your face and his fingers, taking note of your reactions.

He eventually slides off your panties, letting out a soft noise of appreciation once he’s able to see all of you. He leans closer, mumbling something you don’t quite catch, before his mouth is on you.

“Ah, Sanji!” You cry out in surprise, your thighs clenching together, and you can feel him moan against you at the pressure. His tongue moves expertly, which you suppose makes sense; Sanji is a man who knows how to appreciate a good meal. His hands reach up to grip your thighs, not to pull them apart, but to pull you even closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he dives further into you. His nose brushes your clit, making you keen again, and you can feel him smile against your cunt. 

You feel a familiar tension building in your gut as his tongue shifts to your clit and he inserts a finger, then two, then three inside of you, curling in a come hither motion that makes you see stars. You get noisier and noisier as the coil tightens, and Sanji only grows more enthusiastic with every moan and cry he manages to pull from you. His hips are grinding desperately against the mattress beneath you. Your thighs continue to tighten around his head, and you worry you’ll crush him, but you imagine that’s the way he’d want to go.

With one final flick of Sanji’s tongue and push of his fingers, you come unraveled around him, nearly screaming his name as you’re hit with white-hot pleasure. His fingers work you through it, only stopping when your thighs go slack around him and you let out a soft whimper. He crawls up to see your face, to see the evidence of his work, and you can see he’s absolutely covered in your wetness, his facial hair soaked in you. His pupils are blown out, his eyes nearly entirely black and looking nearly maddened with lust. He kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

“Please, please let me feel you. I need to feel you around me. Please.” His voice is ragged as he pants, a whine behind it as he begs to fuck you.

“Please,” you whimper back.

His fingers hook below the waistband of his boxers, and he slides out of them slowly. His cock stands proudly, long and thick, leaking precum. He gives you no time to admire it, swiftly lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself into you, moaning into your ear at the feeling.

“Darling, you feel heavenly,” he groans. He sits still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and just enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him. “I could never have imagined how perfect you are. The dreams never did you justice.” You try to move your hips, but his hands are holding you still. You let out a whine, pathetic and wanton, and his lips tug into a smile. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

He pulls himself out slowly, before reentering a little faster, the next time a little faster than that, increasing his speed bit by bit until he’s relentlessly pounding you into the mattress. He mumbles endless praise for you that gets lost between his moans, only allowing you to make out princess and tight and perfect. The room is filled with these small praises and the sound of slapping skin. You lean up to kiss him, but he doesn’t let you, instead staring intensely into your eyes, determined to see your face when you cum.

He watches your face as your orgasm grows closer, his hips speeding up and his fingers reaching for your clit. His gaze is loving, admiring, nearly worshiping, and his words at some point turn into a prayer: for you, for him, for what you’ve created here in this room to last long after the door opens and you return back to a life where this becomes real. Your orgasm hits you harshly, making you cry out, and he watches enraptured as you come apart around him. He tries to keep his pace steady, but his hips stutter as he cums inside of you, filling you with warmth.

He stays like that, cock inside of you, eyes locked onto yours. The only sound in the room is your heaving breaths, the only sensation either of you feel is the warmth of the other grounding you here.

“I think I love you,” he murmurs. “Can I say that? Can I make it real?”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his head to your chest, cradling him there. “Please do. I want it to be real. I want you. I love you.”

He adjusts, pulling out of you, crawling up slightly to fully make his home in your chest. His shoulders shake, and you hear a sniffle. You don’t say anything, simply running your hands gently through his hair, across his cheeks, down his back.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He nuzzles his face even deeper into you.

“I think I’ve wanted you just as long, even if I didn’t realize it.”

“I adore you.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you think maybe this confession is deeper and more difficult than his first. 

“I adore you too, Sanji. You’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

You sit there, basking in each other’s presence, enjoying a world where this gets to be real. You drift off to sleep peacefully, with the reassurance that when you wake this won’t just have been another troubling dream. Nothing is more real and grounding than his arms wrapped around you, his leg thrown over you, his lips still lightly pressed against your skin. You know you’ll see him tomorrow, shining brilliantly in the sun, and walk back hand in hand. You still dream of him, but the lovesick smile he gives you when you open your eyes is better than any dream you’ve ever had.

[ladybirdswritings]

sweet thing - dbf!joel miller x reader

Summary: Your life is in disarray. Your father is overbearing, your boyfriend is unkind— and blooming into adulthood is just about the most difficult season you’ve braved. Things only become more complex when feelings begin to develop between you and an old friend of your fathers. DBF!Joel Miller (dad’s best friend). Alternate universe as well, there is NO APOCALYPSE.

Notes: Girl I have been radio silent but this picture awoke me from my slumber because oh my God??? Look at this beautiful, haunted man. Pls enjoy the ideas that came from this still. Idk how well this will do but if u guys enjoy, lmk (I LOVE comments / interactions) and I will add to it <3

A03 | masterlist

sweet thing…

Your father did the best he could. You knew that very well. Charlie was a man respected and adored by his humble community. A hard working father turned single parent when your mom fell ill and god— you were his little flower. His sweet thing. His angel.

Flowers are fragile, though. Gentle, moldable petals and stiff, snappable stems.

It is why he kept you so close to him, so prized like painted porcelain just ready to crack.

It is why you were here. Here at Jackson’s golden hued dance with more powdered, jam-filled pastries and red, roasted meats then you could count on one hand. Here. Instead of the alternative option which was the party your boyfriend decided to attend without you.

You got the invite, sure, yet even as a legal adult— what daddy says? Goes. So long as you remain under his roof, at least. It was infuriating, though. The freedom of all your dear friends, the spontaneity. If only that could be you…

Your eyes drifted to the moustached sponge of all fun and joy in the world, wrapped in a flannel with bourbon in hand. Your dad was seated next to Joel, as he often was. His presence was a newfound thing for these recent years and though Joel would never say it, you had an inkling that he wanted to stand by his friend’s side after your mother… well.

You didn’t know Joel well. No, not at all. His visits were always the occasional dinner or drop in for fishing or some awfully manly thing. You knew well that your mother adored him, though— so that was enough to make him alright in your book.

Neighbor Betsy told you once that Joel had lost his wife and daughter too, and that maybe he was trying to keep your father from going through what he went through alone.

You only laughed at that.

Joel Miller was gruff and cold. Could he have such a warm heart beneath his sherpa coat?

You dazed out, the fingers snapping in front of your eyes made you blink back into the golden hues and roasted sausages on pointy little sticks.

“You alright, honeybee?” Your father asked, laying a heavy arm upon your shoulders. Joel was slower in his approach, eyeing you up and down with confusion and something else in his eyes.

“Peachy.” You only muttered, taking a sip of your freshly squeezed lemonade. Jackson’s finest.

“Oh come on now angel… now you know I can’t have you runnin’ off with that boyfriend of yours. I always told you he was trouble. Member’ when he ditched you down by Church Road during mosquito season? Well you were ripe as a red tomater and who had to pick you up?”

You were riper, redder now. Your cheeks an embarrassed hue not even on the color wheel, not even identifiable. You bowed your head, huffing out your frustrations before simply muttering: “you did, dad.”

He nodded proud, squeezing your shoulder. “That’s right, I did… what?”

Your eyes drifted up to see your father’s oldest friend with an odd kind of expression on his face. Brows pinched and raised, wrinkles plaguing his forehead deeper now.

Joel only cleared his throat, shifting on his boots and taking a sip of his bourbon in preparation. Then? He spoke.

“You ain’t lettin’ her be.” He gruffly offered, eyes set and sure. Your father only stilled for a moment, wondering if it was even Joel’s place to have an opinion… maybe it was.

“Why’s that?” He asked Joel, and the rough looking man only took another swig.

“Mm. We were both young once. We both made mistakes, y’gotta let her make her own— can’t hide her from em’. Just ain’t how it works.”

Poppies blossomed like springtime had finally begun in your eyes. Finally— someone understood. You didn’t expect him to be so… wise?

Your father only huffed, taking a long glance your way as he mused.

“Even if I wanted to loosen the leash tonight, Joel, I can’t. Maria needs me here to keep an eye on crazy old Arthur.”

Joel’s brows relaxed at that, a purpled hand running along the zipper of his flannel coat. His eyes were a chocolate kind of brown, dark and quietly encasing his thoughts within them.

He hummed, gaze drifting back to you.

You wanted to shrink. Perhaps it was because you were on the spot, perhaps it was because the way he stared would make anyone feel small.

It seemed like centuries before he cleared his throat again.

“I’ll take her.”

What?

You didn’t understand it, not one bit. Why was he kind enough to offer you an out here? Kind enough to test your father’s words.

Discomfort radiated through your father’s coat, tension molding its way into his already stiff bones. A long sigh, a glance back and forth as he truly considered. His expression was far too plagued with worry, and you knew well that it was now or never.

You had to slam down the last nail in the oak wood coffin.

“Please, daddy? I’ll check in every half hour, I promise.”

Tension eased, slightly but— still. Your eyes were doe-like and sweet, and he gazed into them for a moment far too long before allowing his arm to drop.

“Every fifteen minutes and you’ve got a deal. Miller, you make sure my daughter gets in and out of that bastard’s house safely.”

Joel only nodded once, jaw tense and expression stoic. Your grin was wider than a field of flowers, and you immediately wrapped your father in a hug. Your thank yous seemed endless, and it made him laugh.

When you parted, Joel had keys grasped in his rough hands. You realized for a moment that you had no idea why he was doing this. What did he owe you? Maybe it was pity. You were half an orphan, after all.

With a cautious glance, your eyes met his own. He nodded once as if to urge you closer, and you stumbled his way. Before you knew it? You were out the door, trailing behind him like his shadow.

Of all the people who cared enough to convince your father to let you go to this party tonight? Joel Miller was the last person you expected it to be…

¿to be continued?