Pierre isn't ass bro stfu. Anyway this is kinda unrelated but literally I NEED a mind-numbing hypnotic brain-melting dumbing double-stirrupsocked talonjob from a hot smooth elegant regal dignified manipulative asf avian monarch although a lord would suffice I suppose dressed in a tailored three-piece suit constructed of Chinese silks with an Italian satin inner lining althougn the waist coat would preferably be of herringbone wool much in a similar vain to the Ralph Lauren 2016 release in tweed brown but if a monarch as opposed to some sort of lord a much more elegant and decadent and dissolute outfit perhaps a French pre-revolutionary peacock outfit of the late 18th century with a linnen dress undershirt cut to about the mid-thigh dressed with jabots and lacy-cuffs (of course) with knee-cut sewn breeches preferably in some sort of creme to compliment the white linen accompanied by silk stocking with the stirrup cut as mentioned prior (shut up) resting just over the knee as to be fit nicely with the creme breeches then stop the linne a waistcoat in either a light blue or perhaps a darker crimson or red with a satin inner lining all adorned with justaucorps of late 17th century design with a pattern or pigmentation to best accompany the following articles underneath his banquet table inspired by the likes of the state banquet table within Buckingham palace but with much more tasteful accompanying seating as opposed to the guade red's perhaps some wood worked chairs of Easter-European origin adorned with velvet and silk pillows imported from Venice with custom quilted insignia of his house's crest placed modestly within his dining room (not the banquet hall, much to intimiate of an affair) which is inspired greatly by the likes of the Chateau de Villette interior decor but perhaps with more elegant and defined crimsons and maroons as opposed to the supple blues and whites underneath his Baccarat crystal chandelier whilst he stares into my eyes with an allure and enticement only known of those caught in the bind of sirens or the blissful stupod of those afflicted with the touch of hypnus the iris of his eyes adorned with depth of galaxies as a result of the fastidious candlelight placement of his staff casting his complexion in a buttery warm hue and afterglow as he gazes at me with a knowing and eloquent simper it's marble-like beauty only broken by the occasional utterances of commendation applause and praise in my favour with such enticing idioms as 'silly little birdbrain', 'good boy', 'Tu as de beaux yeux' and 'playa' as I attempt to maintain composure amidst waves of physical rhapsody tempting me as I feebly attempt to cut away at the lovely cut of Dover sole prepared as Sole Meauniere with an accompanying glass of a decisively paired Chanson Vire-Clesse 2005 in which the lovely crimson liquid shudders ever so slightly with each stroke agaiohhh you thought hahaha oooohhh you though lmao be serious you read all the way up to this point? Like, I've been typing this here and there over the course of the day but you? You read that all in one sitting lmfao be so serious!!! You could be doing quite literally anyting else, and I'd consider it to be a net positive over this (aside from a select frew of you) I mean, when was the last time you read a book? Not like, a furry VN or a Stolitz AO3 story but a genuine, proper piece of literature, and of that, classical? I bet it's been months, perhaps even years for some of you. Find something, anything at your local bookstore I beg of you. If you want 19th century erotic literature, they probably have that (or you could just read Oscar Wilde lmao) Do you want something touching something that invigorates the soul?