#zeitgest

[bill-skarsgalactic]

axel prompt where he tattoos the reader and it could go anywhere: fluff, smut, idc i just love axel

Hello lovely anonymous prompter! Thank you for letting me test out my drabble skills on you. I hope this little piece tickles your pickle:

I wasn’t a prude, but there was something mildly uncomfortable about having to partially disrobe in front of a complete stranger, especially one as attractive as Axel.

I suppose we weren’t complete strangers, my crowd kinda mixed with his crowd but we were strictly acquaintances, the type that only ever exchanged polite nods over the tops of our solo cups at parties. However, when I suggested to my friends that I was thinking about getting a tattoo, Axel was the first person they recommended.

“Eat shit and die Axel?” I’d inquired, my eyebrow quirked so high it almost disappeared into my hairline.

Despite my apprehension they all assured me he was the best, even going as far as to show me some of the work he’d done on them, and I had to say, I was impressed. That’s how I found myself in his shop two weeks later, tugging my shirt over my head, his eyes trained on me and a devilish smirk on those plump, pink lips of his.

Once I was down to just the string bikini I’d opted for in lieu of a bra, I turned my back to him in an attempt to maintain some sort of modesty. Not that it helped, I could still feel his eyes practically devouring me as I reached behind myself to tug on the strings of my top.

“No need to be coy, dollface. I’ve pretty much seen it all,” he teased.

I felt my cheeks tinge pink the moment the words left his mouth and I silently thanked God that my back was turned away from him. Cocky son of a bitch.

“Sorry Axel, I usually expect a guy to at least buy me dinner before I let him see the goods,” I retorted, clamping my hand over my breasts to keep the material in place as the strings fell by my waist.

I turned just in time to see him roll his eyes and scoff. He hopped down from the padded table he’d been sitting on and gave it a firm smack.

“Hop up, dollface. Let’s get started.”

I did as I was told and stretched out on the table, barely suppressing a shiver as my bare skin came into contact with the cool leather. Goosebumps rippled up my arms and, mortifyingly, I felt my nipples harden beneath the nylon material of my bikini top. I groaned internally, hoping it wasn’t obvious but glancing over at Axel, I realized he was too absorbed in what he was doing to have noticed.

Once he’d set up his inks, placed the transfer and made sure I was happy with the position of it, he pulled his chair up next to the table and set to work. Another shiver threatened to ripple through me as his left hand came to rest just beside my breast, his long fingers framing the area of skin on my rib cage where he was about to start inking me.

I’m not sure if he’d heard the way I swallowed nervously or if he felt the change in my breathing, but he glanced over at me, his signature smirk very much in place.

“Don’t worry, I’m not copping a feel,” he assured me, before returning his gaze to his canvas.

I chose not to respond, opting to focus on the sting of needle as it buzzed against my skin rather than the feel of his black, latex gloves cupping the curve of my breast.

We spent the next hour in comfortable silence as Axel focused intently on his work. Once he was happy, he set the tattoo machine aside, and as he reached his left hand over to grab some paper towel, I felt a yank on my top. The string of my bikini had somehow got caught in one of the many chains on his wrist and I yelped helplessly as the material was ripped from my body.

I don’t know which one of us was more shocked but Axel’s wide eyes immediately flew to my exposed breasts and his mouth gaped.

“Axel!” I shrieked, scrambling into a sitting position and throwing my arms across my exposed chest.

“Oh God – shit!” he stammered, ripping his eyes away. He flailed his arm wildly, unsuccessfully trying to untangle the string of my top from his wrist.

I reached out and yanked it away, not caring if I destroyed his bracelet in the process. My cheeks stung with embarrassment and all I wanted was to get my clothes back on.

I jumped down off the table, not even bothering to look at my new artwork as I scrambled to tie my top.

Axel was standing now, fiddling with his equipment and not daring to look at me as I got dressed.

“I’m sorry, believe it or not, I did not mean to do that,” he insisted.

“Stop talking,” I instructed, as I pulled my t-shirt over my head, “This did not happen and we never speak of this again, got it?”

He simply nodded to communicate his understanding and I gave him a curt nod in response as I grabbed my handbag off the couch.

“Good. Now how much do I owe you?”

My cheeks were still burning with shame, as we made our way over to the front counter. Why did this happen to me? And why did it have to happen with Axel Cluney?

Axel cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, $100 should cover it,” he told me.

Neither of us dared to look at the other person as I rifled through my wallet and handed over the cash I owed him. This was not how I imagined my first tattoo experience to go and I briefly wondered if the ground would swallow me up if I prayed hard enough.

Only once he’d pocketed the cash and handed me a pamphlet about tattoo after-care did I speak again.

“Well uh, thanks I guess.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Axel replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Unsure of what else to say, I turned on my heel and made my way over to the door, but as I was about to push it open Axel called out to me.

“Hey dollface?”

“Yeah?”

“Seeing as I already saw the goods, how about I buy you dinner?”

[demifiendrsa]

Deadpool 2 final poster.

[batvalentinworld]

someone told me this week 'I'd give up everything I have to be your age again"; Zeitgeist, I suppose; a motionless century when everybody seems obsessed with turning back clocks

[inutilidadeaflorada]

Separa o que já foi feito em feitios febris Elucide-se dentro do mar de febre E da própria pele faça mel Solidifique-a como pedra de estética anárquica Poeira, um terço do verso Chumbo, o teu beijo quente O sol, um eu sem ti Adicionando enxertos em espíritos breves Adeus meu coração profano Vou ser-me um décimo mais profano que fui Para fora das lonjuras de tuas pernas Por trás das juras havia um cárcere-celibato Os pulsos são atores Os amantes são toques ocultos O sermão vens da veia de outros A Vênus pálida colore-se à meia luz da noite Depois do obsoleto órgão Adotei pares órfãos Para correrem em companhia Hermes mencionara-me o zelo que deveria ter com cópias... Destroços de garrafas que sorriem em maré baixa Tuas memórias estão descompassadas por compromissos Vou-me as dez, volto em meia hora e vou novamente na manhã seguinte Efeito em atraso, combinado com comprimidos dialéticos Apolo, acuda-me desta tamanha melancolia Cuspida por meus olhos diabos figurativos A serpentina frívola queimava como verão O verbo irmão era só a consoante em atividade Traga o peito aberto à esta chaga Faz-te o filho o teu fio de prata Remodele-o nas bordas de teus lábios Deixando-o mais prisma do que a nota de roda pé do zeitgest

Coagulação, Pierrot Ruivo 

[cobolatre]

El misterio Nude Project: qué hay detrás del “duelo de sudaderas” que libran adolescentes y veinteañeros

La firma no solo ha conseguido recoger el zeitgest de los jóvenes del siglo XXI que aspiran a ser emprendedores millonarios sino que ha gene

No sólo ampliando vocabulario

Un mundo imaginario aspiracional serigrafiado en una camiseta de 80€, opuesto al clean cani, o MDLR (acrónimo de Mec de la Rue).

Marketing, historia contemporánea y negocio de la moda y muchas marcas.

Un artículo largo pero entretenido.

[zeithalter]

[secamcurated]

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

This is Wardog’s team but... maybe don’t get too attached to them...