#Fashion Universities Europe

[mengjue]

It’s crazy how much fashion has changed over the last 200 years. Like people started out wearing quite traditional clothing unless you were wealthy or nobility, and then suddenly you get this explosion of new styles like the modern qipao within coastal elite circles. Then things get very drab and homogenised as a direct refutation of this excess, before finally in the late 70s and 80s new fashions are allowed and people make their own bellbottoms and…

Huh? What’s that?

Was I talking about the historical experience of one particular cultural area as if it is universal?

Using general terms that make it seem like this is the default?

My bad, I’ll make sure to mention this is Chinese fashion, specifically.

I certainly wouldn’t want that to become common…

[nattravn-art]

A Fine Team Of dramatic disasters Paranormal Investigators

You ever see a meme that represent your OCs so good you have to draw it? This one was perfect for this squad!

These disasters are my & @thecrimsonvalley-creates's Call of Cthulhu RPG OCs. The universe expanded in a way we didn't expect and They. Are. Thriving.

From left to right:

Lizbeth: a cheerful and peppy wildcard who enjoys throwing one too much molotov cocktails and hates paperwork with a passion.

Beatrice: a semi-functioning grump, constantly tired because she's awoken by spirits and entities at odd hours of the night.

And Gabriel: as much as a wildcard as Lizzy, a snarkass and kind of a dick, who has fucked himself both in and out of situations.

[thepinkmermaidprincess]

you ask rafe girly questions from a girl magazine ♡

“this shit so stupid”,rafe said shaking his head.

“please baby,makes me happy”,you giggled as you sat on your knees in your fluffy pink bed.

rafe was settled against the headboard of your bed with his arm crossed and the cutest frown ever on his face.

“’kay ‘kay,go on dollie”

“ ‘kay….so question one : your bff is crying over a boy! you : a) taker her on a shopping spree,duh! b)offer to kill him c) get her fave ice cream & prepare to listen.”

you raise your head towards him waiting for his answer.

“you’re my best friend,why the fuck would you cry over a boy that ain’t me?”

“rafey,please!!!!!! answer seriously.”

“ i’ll kill him”

“ so answer b !” ( your face’s like 😊) you took your pink heart fluffy pen before writing his answer down on your notebook.

“ ‘kay, question two : there’s a huge party and you’re invited! you can’t wait to : a)shake it on the dancefloor b) coordinate stylish looks c)catch up with friends.”

“smoke with you on my lap.”

“huh….that wasn’t in the proposition...”

“b…i like when you match your lingerie color with my shit”

“oh rafey….you’re so cute”,you said getting on all fours to kiss him sweetly on the mouth.

he tried to deepen the kiss but huh huh…

“no no no,grumpy guy,there’s six questions left…sit down,look pretty and answer me”

“yes ma’am.” (🦋🦋)

“question three: pick a stylin’ way to complete an outfit-”

“why d’you talk with a british accent ?”

“shushhh….a) chanel necklace b) demonia boots or c) leg warmers.”

“the chanel one.”

“yay!!!! we matching”´you said touching the pink chanel necklace around your neck,rafe got it for you on your birthday last year.

“question four : your friends love you ’cause you : a) make them laugh b) aren’t afraid to be yourself c) are caring.”

“the second one. why the fuck would i be afraid to be m’self ?”

“exactly,you’re awesome!”

“awesome?okay kid.”

“whateverrrrr…question five : you’re most likely to : a)take a spontaneous trip to europe b)love horror movies c)volunteer at an animal shelter.”

“a…by the ‘way didn’t you say to sarah you wanted to go to italy ?”

“yes!!!!my dream”

“’kay…pack your shit for monday ‘kay ?”

you started screaming and jumping on your bed before jumping down on rafe’s lap.

“love you love you love you love you”,you started kissing his neck.

“mhm mhm….c’mon baby…there’s three questions left.”

“oh yeah…’forgot all about that…so question six : on valentines,you hope to receive from your partner : a) sephora giftcard b) a signed CD by your fave band c) a plushie & chocolates” , you giggled as took your magazine,your notebook and your pink pen. you knew rafe was never going to admit it but he liked answering your little questions ♡

“sex.”

“a plushie & chocolates!!!! such a good choice baby.”

“TGIF!how do you spend the weekend? a)hit up the city with your girls b) work on your project c)binge ghibli movies.”

“work on shit and listen to you whining that i don’t give you enough attention.”

“blah blah blah…last question : pick a perfect job : a) travel blogger b) fashion designer c) owner of a cozy cafe ”

“ceo.”

“baby..’still not in the propositions….”

“the cafe shit.”

“ ‘kay”

you reread all of his answers before checking in which girly universe does rafe belong in.

“you had 1 a) , 4 b) and 2 c) which means that you belong in monster high and bratz world!yay! so they say «creative is your best talent! you aren’t afraid to be yourself & stand out from the crowd. this makes your fashion-forward and ahead of your time! likely has great music taste» ”

“ ‘f course i’m ahead of my ‘time doll, i’m «awesome»”

“i agree with the quiz b’cause you’re such a brat”

“oh i’m a brat ? huh?…..get on your back i’ll show you how bratty i can be,kid”

hope u loved it ♡ English is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes <3

based on the magazine by @d3monicas ♡ 🌸

(just a girly song i thought would maybe play in reader’s room)

[tulliok]

Carol Cho (Coco Pommel)

My take on Coco Pommel for the 1920s AU!

As a Korean-American immigrant and designer fresh out of university, Carol works tirelessly as an apprentice for the fashion house, Polomare, in hopes of joining the prestigious fashion scene of New York City. Unfortunately, due to Polomare’s unsavory business model of imitating the more innovative houses of Europe, she finds herself unfulfilled and desperate for new opportunities.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Anna May Wong (The Thief of Bagdad, Shanghai Express)—Wong was the first Chinese American movie star, arguably the first Asian woman to make it big in American films. Though the racism of the time often forced her into stereotypical roles, awarded Asian leading roles to white actors in yellowface, and prohibited on-screen romance between actors of different races, she delivered powerful and memorable performances. When Hollywood bigotry got to be too much, she made movies in Europe. Wong was intellectually curious, a fashion icon, and a strong advocate for authentic Asian representation in cinema. And, notably for the purposes of this tournament, absolutely gorgeous.

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Anna May Wong propaganda:

"She so so gorgeous!! Due to Hollywood racism she was pretty limited in the roles she got to play but even despite that she’s so captivating and deserves to be known as a leading lady in her own right!! When she’s on screen in Shanghai Express I can’t look away, which is saying something because Marlene Dietrich is also in that film."

"SHE IS ON THE BACK OF QUARTERS also she was very smart and able to speak multiple languages and is a fashion icon on top of the acting/singing"

"Paved the way for Asian American actresses AND TOTAL HOTTIE!!! She broke boundaries and made it her mission to smash stereotypes of Asian women in western film (at the time, they were either protrayed them as delicate and demure or scheming and evil). In 1951, she made history with her television show The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong, the first-ever U.S. television show starring an Asian-American series lead (paraphrased from Wikipedia). Also, never married and rumor has it that she had an affair with Marlene Dietrich. We love a Controversial Queen!"

"She's got that Silent Era smoulder™ that I think transcends the very stereotypical roles in which she was typically cast. Also looks very hot smouldering opposite Marlene Dietrich in "Shanghai Express"; there's kiss energy there."

"Hot as hell and chronically overlooked in her time, she's truly phenomenal and absolutely stunning"

"A story of stardom unavoidably marred by Hollywood racism; Wong's early-career hype was significantly derailed by the higher-up's reluctance to have an Asian lead, and things only got worse when the Hayes code came down and she suddenly *couldn't* be shown kissing a white man--even if that white man was in yellowface. After being shoved into the Dragon Lady role one too many times, she took her career to other continents for many years. Still, she came back to America eventually, being more selective in her roles, speaking out against Asian stereotypes, and in the midst of all of this finding the time to be awarded both the title of "World's Best Dressed Woman" by Mayfair Mannequin Society of New York and an honorary doctorate by Peking University."

"Incredible beauty, incredible actress, incredible story."

"-flapper fashion ICON. look up her fits please <3 -rumors of lesbianism due to her Close Friendships with marlene dietrich & cecil cunningham, among others -leveraged her star power to criticize the racist depictions of Chinese and Asian characters in Hollywood, as well as raise money and popular support for China & Chinese refugees in the 1930s and 40s. -face card REFUSED to decline"

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

[midniiights-garden]

Modern!Mizu General Headcanons!!

I have so many many ideas for Modern!Mizu omg you don't understand (I wish she was real...)

Ok, so first of all I wanna start out with some HCs about her past and her mother.

I think she probably grew up in rural Japan, her relationship with her mother basically still the same as in the show.

Due to not being exposed to very many foreigners her relationship with her peers was strained because of her blue eyes (ofc. hate discrimination smHHH)

Anyways, although Mizu doesn't have to hide her gender, and I personally headcanon that Modern!Mizu wouldn't hide it, she still has some internalized mysogyny.

This is namely due to the huge issue with sexisim in Japan, sexual harassment and sexualisation of women and so on. Mizu grew up wishing she was a boy because she didn't want to feel like a piece of meat to be eyed up and down and sold.

I HC that she meets the Swordfather when she attempted to run away from home. Probably due to another bullying incident or something.

In my head she actually moves to America or Europe to study something related to craftsmanship or to become a professional martial artist. It makes the most sense in my head at least.

She got into Uni on a scholarship lol. I mean, translated into a modern setting I do think her skill would be enough to warrant a large scholarship.

University was a rough time in the beginning for her due to the many changes that come with moving to a new country, as myself and most other third country kids will know.

Mizu had to juggle learning English, beating racist asshole and school all at the same time.

Due to her reluctance to socialize she also struggles to learn English in the verbal sense. She learned how to read and write in English much faster than to speak it because she had no one practice with. That, and she refused to talk to anyone.

As for how she met Mikio...

Modern!Mizu probably met him because he was a teacher at her Uni.

Long story short when he finds out how she was concieved and how strong he is, well, big strong man gets emasculated and throws a fit and Mizu leaves him (as she should)

And then she realises she's gay lol

I think it'd happen in a pretty similar fashion as to Canon!Mizu but you can look at my headcanons for those if you need them.

I think the main differences between Modern!Mizu and Canon!Mizu would primarily be in how she deals with her rage. Of course, Modern!Mizu isn't allowed the luxury of just stabbing people to get revenge so I believe she may resort to a lot of physical exertion in the gym or just a lot of lashing out towards people in general.

(A/N: Yayayayayya second post for the day!!! As usual, if anyone has any requests or anything feel free to ask!! Happy holidays everyone!!! <3)

[girlsdressingrooms]

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024) 

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

 In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style. 

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think JKR did best in Harry Potter, and what do you think she did worst?

I'll just do the first five good and first five bad that pop into my head.

GOOD

JKR writes about grief and fear extremely well. It's complex, nuanced, visceral, messy. When I pull out really good passages of her writing, that's almost always what they're about.

She has a good eye for friend group dynamics. Harry, Ron and Hermione work. The way they crack and splinter, the way that two of them will gang up on the third and then work it out, that's really well observed. Their banter works. Their arguments work.

She has an incredible knack for side characters. There are SO MANY of them, and most spend very little time on screen. But the details we get are memorable, interesting and well-chosen - not only do you remember who all these people are, it's perfectly reasonable that your favorite character is like, Tonks - even though we barely see her.

JKR never wastes a transition. These books have a *lot* of scene transitions, and they are used to drop characterization, clues, worldbuilding, or build suspense. You never get "Harry was late to class." You get "Harry was late to class because Peeves had vanished two-thirds of the stairs up to the astronomy tower." It's a good trick for making a world feel alive, and make a mystery feel satisfying. Also, JKR ends *chapters* really well.

She's good at naming things. Good place names, product names, character names. They're memorable, whimsical, build a really strong brand identity and no wonder themed entertainment based off this series does so well. It's hard to invent a word that means something to your audience, but she's good at it. Dementor, apparate, muggle, Slytherin, Gryffindor. There's a ton of specialized vocab in this universe, and that's how she gets away with it.

BAD

... she's good at naming so long as the thing she's naming exists in Western Europe. The second it doesn't, we run into problems *real* quick. No-Maj? Cho Chang? Ilvermorny and the four houses Wampus, Pukwudgie, Horned Serpent and Thunderbird?

JKR can't write romance. It's strange, because her grasp of family and group dynamics is so good, but she just can't write a romantic couple being romantic. She can write pining, she can write longing, she can write cringingly awkward couple, arguably she can even write exes - but she will bend over backwards so the two halves of a romantic couple never actually have to be in the same scene, interacting with each other. In HP this mostly shows up in the way the Harry/Ginny stuff (and the Ron/Hermione stuff...) falls flat, and Remus/Tonks comes out of absolutely nowhere. But the Cormoran Strike books and the Fantastic Beasts movies clearly *want* to be romances, and she just can't do it.

Being uber-femme/girly in the Harry Potter books is consistently a very negative trait. Pink, bows, ruffles, painted nails, styled hair, being interested in fashion, being interested in boys (versus boys being interested in you...) It hovers somewhere around being pathetic and being villainous. If you're girly, you can redeem yourself by becoming a mother (like Fleur) or you can reject girliness (like Hermione - who can look all pretty and femme for the Yule Ball, but "that's far too much bother to do everyday.")

There is often a disconnect between a character's actions and the way the way that character is framed by the text. Like, JKR obviously has a very clear idea in her head of who Severus Snape or Draco Malfoy or Molly Weasley is... and that idea does not 100% make it onto the page. Most characters are hit with this to some degree. Someone like Ron is the exception: I do think that the version of him on the page and the version of him in JKR's head are exactly the same.

There is a very *young* sort of moral simplicity in these books... kind of. The Ministry of Magic gets more nuanced and grey as the story goes on, Dumbledore and his plan gets more nuanced and grey... JKR clearly wants to make the thematic underpinnings of her story more complex and adult... but the Slytherins are all just the bad guys. That's not a stereotype, that's not 12 year old Harry with a simplified worldview, they're all just like that. They all run away from the final battle (and/or want to turn Harry over to Voldemort.) She goes out of her way to make Snape an honorary Gryffindor, when it would have been easier and better to just... say that this is a guy who used slytherin traits in a positive way? There is something very deep in her that just wants an infallible force to pick out the Good People, and then put the Good People in charge. that's literally the plot of fantastic beasts 3.

[lovelywooz]

Kim Jungwoo - Study Abroad (M)

This is just downright filthy. Probably the smuttiest jungwoo smut on the tumblr app. Literally almost a YEAR in the making. The product of much thirst, and much fondness<3 I hope the 20 other people on here who are JungPs enjoy :,) Edit: Fixed spacing, added word count!

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Smut, mature themes, language, choking, semi-public, praise/degradation, dirty talking, hair pulling, name calling, the whole nine yards basically

When you and Jungwoo signed up to go on a Study Abroad getaway, you didn’t know you’d be chaperoned. It seems like you’ll have to keep your paws off each other. It’s only a semester without it, how hard could that possibly be?

*******************************************************

Your back hits the door with a loud thud as you’re pushed up against it. In the tall boy’s flurry of hasty movements, you’re surprised you two even managed to get the door closed at all. Thank goodness you did though, otherwise the whole ‘welcome home’ party downstairs would’ve heard the feral sounds coming from you and Jungwoo. Any inhibitions you’d previously held about jumping each other’s bones the second you stepped off the plane were unceremoniously pushed to the side the moment the two of you locked eyes across Jaehyun’s living room.

Two months. It had been two months of subtly brushing up against each other at art museums, ducking behind some shrubbery to steal kisses, and desperate make-out sessions in the dormitory pool just before the curfew cutoff.

When you and Jungwoo realized you were going to be in the same group for your university’s study abroad program, you were over the moon. What could be more romantic than spending a whole Summer semester in Europe with the love of your life?

Well, what you two didn’t realize is that your hosting professors were not only strict but very old fashioned. Any students seen merely breathing suspiciously near each other were not-so-subtly separated by a guide “just passing through”. Under no circumstances were members of the opposite sex allowed to be together at the lodgings. So, needless to say it was a little hard for you and Jungwoo to get any alone time.

It wasn’t all bad! There were plenty of beautiful sights you saw together. Both of your camera rolls must have thousands of pictures and videos saved from these months alone. One of the guides even looked the other way so you could get a quick picture kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

But underneath the innocent smiles and gingerly clasped hands, you were just itching to get your hands on each other. Jungwoo has always had… a big appetite. Everyone knows his stomach is practically bottomless, but only you knew how much he craved… other things. You’ve grown used to it now but admittedly the beginning of your relationship left you both extremely surprised and extremely satisfied. You were a little flustered the first time he started begging you to let him eat you out… for the third time that evening. And you were even more embarrassed the very next day when he slipped a hand between your thighs on the couch, looking up at you with those deceptively pure-looking boba eyes. On a regular day he always had his arms wrapped around your waist or a hand gently resting above your knee.

He seemed unconcerned about the rule when you pointed it out on the sign up sheet, but slowly the lack of touch started to get to him. He’d stare at your lips while you’re talking, text you flirty little things during lectures, and leave you increasingly disheveled after your secret make-out sessions in the dorm pool. You could always feel how much he needed you rubbing up against your leg. Despite his ‘big problem’, he never went past making out. When things would get too intense, he’d always pull back and start helping you out of the pool so you didn’t miss curfew. You’d offered to help him out but he always blushed beet red and declined, saying something about ‘being too shy to do that in public’.

Not that he didn’t think about it. He probably spent more time thinking about doing dirty things to you than not! But in his mind, this is a matter of self-discipline. He’s a rule follower. A morally upstanding man. Beyond not getting in trouble, he had to prove to himself that he could last without needing to feel you. Although, even he started to notice how on edge he seemed to be at times. He was so beyond done with using his own hand to get off in the shower instead of yours. All he wanted was you. You certainly wanted him too, but there was nothing else you could do about it. Secretly though, you were kinda curious to see just how long he could go on like this.

You really notice him starting to lost his composure the third week of the trip. The guides took you to a small town in France to celebrate the conclusion of midterms with some delicious food and sultry evening atmosphere. After a few glasses of champagne, they were loose enough to stop counting how many students were behind them every five minutes. This is when Jungwoo chose to strike.

Absentmindedly staring at the sunset, your arm was suddenly yanked towards the opposite direction of the group. He was dragging you by your forearm so quickly all you could see ahead of you was your boyfriend’s ramrod straight back and the occasional glimpse of his exasperated expression. His eyes scanned over every inch of the architecture before him until he spotted a small opening in the side of an alleyway. It was dimly lit and vacant, every soul in the surrounding area seemingly went where your tour group was going. Perfect.

“Babe- Jung- wait-,” your words were drowned out by his mouth capturing yours, though they were only halfhearted hesitations anyways. His lean but firm arms boxed you against the wall of this enclave he’d dragged you into. His body was pressed flush against yours and you could feel his heart beating out of his chest. The stickiness of the humid night air made the exposed parts of his skin cling to yours in the hottest way imaginable.

Did you really want him to stop kissing you like his life depended on it? Absolutely not. But you were starting to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen, so you grabbed a fistful of his fluffy hair and pulled it backwards to get him at least a few inches away. He had the audacity to groan a little too loud in pleasure over the sensation. It reminded him too much of other things that made you yank his hair.

“Woo, you know we are in public what has gotten into you? If someone sees us or, or hears us, or…” You’re staring so hard at his swollen lips and flushed skin that it’s tough to concentrate on scolding him. Of course he knew to wear that black tank top, strategically exposing his strong arms. And his expensive watch you got him for Christmas that highlighted his incredibly attractive wrists and hands. And the chain necklace he bought at a pawn shop purely because you stopped breathing when he tried it on. With his chest exposed like that, all you want to do is rip that damn fabric off his body. …What were you saying again?

“I can’t take this anymore.” He leaned down to spatter kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders, “I want you so bad it’s killing me.” He relished in the small sounds he was drawing from your mouth. He hadn’t been able to hear them in so long (apart from in his dreams) that each one lit a small ember under his skin until it became a roaring bonfire. He stopped just in front of your right ear to whisper, “If I had it my way, we would have been back at the dorms having fun hours ago. Don’t think I haven’t felt your eyes all over me from afar the entire semester. Are you trying to make me lose my patience on purpose?”.

While it’s true that your lustful mind has been seeing even his Stussy t-shirts as lingerie, you never meant to do it on purpose. You are simply an observer in this little study of yours, waiting to see how long he can last before he gives in to his dirty thoughts. In hindsight, maybe you spoiled him too much and leaving him a little desperate could be just the push he’s been craving. He’s a bit of a freak in private, despite his shyness. Maybe he’s secretly enjoying being left high and dry. You were secretly enjoying watching his moral code start to dissolve.

Your vision is losing focus as his hand slides closer and closer to where you’ve been wanting it for weeks. His lower body is stuck firmly to your torso and you can feel just how much he’s been missing you through his jeans. His lips dive to capture yours again, and his tongue is in your mouth, and your hands are tangled in his hair, and you are mentally fully prepared to get your back blown out in a random French alleyway when you feel something buzzing in his pocket.

You both come back to reality when you realize his phone is ringing. He lets out the most frustrated sounding sigh you’ve ever heard, pouting against your lips before he pulls away. Your two sets of eyes catch the string of spit drawn between his lips and yours and he breathlessly laughs at this before reaching for his phone. The caller ID reads, “Mark Lee Bar”. Of course it would be fucking Mark that blue balls us, you think to yourself.

You feel like a pervert when the annoyed whine that comes from your boyfriend gives you goosebumps. “Hnnnnng this is so fucking, unfair- ridiculous-“ He thumps his finger on the answer button. “Lee Mark, if you are calling me for anything other than the French Royalty inviting our tour group to the castle, hang up. Right now”. Jungwoo leans his head down to rest on your shoulder in an effort to calm down. You take the opportunity to play with his hair a little bit. It provides you both the benefit of admiring the soft tendrils loosely falling through your finger, and the satisfaction of sending shivers up your lover’s spine.

“It’s not looking good man… the guides are sobering up and they’re deefffinitely looking for you. I can’t hear what they’re saying too much from our table but they keep like, asking for like, a tall guy with blonde hair and that’s gotta be you dude- one sec”.

You can faintly hear Mark attempting to order more drinks with his broken Toronto-French on the other end. Not wanting to waste this opportunity to get one over on your sexy guy, you ‘subtly’ shift your legs around until your thigh is right up against his dick through his pants.

As if it couldn’t get any worse for the two of you Jungwoo starts practically moaning into your neck, “Babe. Baby. Stop that- please fuck- oh my god”. Any attempts at authority from him are totally undermined by his desperately pitchy tone. Which, you knew would be filtering directly into the phone pressed against his cheek. You almost laughed out loud… almost.

“I’m sorry what was that dude? Look just get back here soon before they like, throw you in French jail or something. Although, you might wanna clean up a bit. I can tell I’m interupting some-“ you can hear his eyebrows raise, “passionate enrichment time?”.

Beep.

Saw that one coming. In Mark’s defense it must be kind of obvious considering you two seem to be the only students missing and Jungwoo was practically panting into the phone humping your leg a minute or two ago. Unfortunately, it was probably best for your future academic standing with the university that you two head back. Your lover hadn’t unglued his body from yours just yet despite having already hung up on his dear friend. “Jungwoo? We should probably go, I’m sorry baby I miss you so much too”. You rubbed some circles into his lower back and left a peck on his temple in an attempt to console him.

“God I need you so badly this is so not fair. I hate Europe, Europe is stupid”. His griping would be so hilarious if not for how legitimately dejected he seemed at the moment. After another minute of holding you in his arms he promptly stood up and readjusted himself as best he could to hide what the two of you had been doing since ‘accidentally’ losing the tour group. Once he was finished, he spun around to admire your beauty as you put yourself back together. No way was he gonna tell you your lips looked a little too swollen to be sunburnt. He had to let the world know you were his somehow.

“Let’s get going gorgeous”. The man-puppy hold his hand out for you to grab ahold of and leads you leisurely back to the intended tour destination. You remember making your excuse to a less-than-amused professor and hearing Jaehyun jeering your boyfriend from a distance.

But that experience pales in comparison to what happened in Berlin.

Fast forward about a month and a half. You and your cohort have seen Paris, Rome, Madrid, and Amsterdam. Each city was different and charming in it’s own unique way. Jungwoo and you had been on your very best behavior the rest of the trip, save for some risky texts sent to each other while locking eyes across lecture halls. Your professors in each of these cities continued to enforce their outdated stance on Co-Ed education, forcing even lecture halls to be “boys on one half and girls on the other”. But when your group arrived in the final city of your journey, Berlin, a new professor had joined the fray.

“Hello students, my name is Dr. Arno Hahn. I will be your professor for the remainder of your term abroad. I hope you will enjoy your time in my beloved city of Berlin. Sit with whomever you’d like, so long as you aren’t going to be noisy, and we’ll get started.”

Instantly a tall shadow appeared in the left corner of your vision and plopped down in the chai. Of course it was only Jungwoo, but you aren’t even sure how a human being could move so quickly? He set his textbook and bag down on the long wooden desk before you and lazily shot you a smolder, “Hey pretty thing, you come here often?”. You giggled at his corniness and his endearing dimple crested grin stretched across his face.

The class started soon after that. Notebook users scribbled down as many notes as they could, and many students could be seen rapidly typing away without even looking up from their laptops. About an hour passed by before you felt something creeping up your leg. When you shot a glance down you saw Jungwoo’s shoe touching your calf. Looking to the left, you gave your man a quick smile as if to say ‘you’re extremely cute trying to play footsie but I’m concentrating right now’, and you refocused on jotting down notes.

A minute passed, then once again you feel something touching you. This time it ghosted along the side of your thigh. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t give you a head rush, given how sex-deprived you were approaching the end of this trip. But this is in class, theres like fifty people in here. Sure you were seated towards the back of the hall, and nobody was behind you, but still! It’s about dignity. Or at least, that is what you were telling yourself.

You set down your pen and snaked your left hand down to gently pry Jungwoo’s off of your thigh. As your palm pressed against the top of his, he twisted his hand around in your grip until he had your fingers laced together. He squeezed ever so tight, teetering on the edge of painful, and made eye contact with you. He mouthed a silent, ‘Please, I want to make you feel good.” in your direction. His doe eyes, handsome face and extremely sexy forearms and hands definitely made it hard to say no. His pupils bore into yours as your considered his offer. He squeezed your hand again, and slowly moved his chair closer and closer to yours. Once he was within reach, he leaned over to whisper his pleas into your very flushed ear.

“My honey, just wanna help you hm? Wanna make you feel so good baby. I know how much you like my hands and I can give it to you right now, no more waiting, doesn’t that sound good? Know your pussy can’t go much longer without getting filled up by me, can you baby? This is my only offer until we’re back home. Take it or leave it.” He stamps his sultry proposal with a wet smooch to your ear before backing off. Every centimeter of skin that was touching yours vanished and, the little actor that he is, went right back to taking his notes as if nothing even happened.

Meanwhile, you are in a… state, to say the least. First of all: when did your sweet and gentle giant start having this ‘public sex’ streak? Secondly: why is the idea of having his long, boney fingers inside you during a lecture turning you on so much? Thirdly: how much longer is this stupid lecture going to be?

You’ve grown too hot to ignore his request. And you trust him with anything. So you grab his hand and place it back on your legs, this time far closer to where you actually want it. You make eye contact with Jungwoo again. You give a tiny nod to confirm that you want him, no, need him to deliver on his promise. His eyes swirl with an unimaginable sense of lust as a shit eating grin spreads along his face.

He gestures with his free hand for you to face forward and keep writing. You obediently pick up your pen and make your best attempt to copy whatever is on the board. Dr. Hahn is saying something, about… something. But all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and surely spreading to your cheeks.

You are so glad you wore your sundress today (most definitely what caused your lover to be so antsy) because it provides easy access for two cold fingers to gently brush over your still clothed slit. The long wait makes the sensation so intense you nearly cried out from relief. He rubs circles on your sensitive clit for a while, then ghosts his fingers down your folds, and back up to your clit again. He does this repeatedly in some kind of ritual to drive you genuinely mad with lust. Your left hand, which been wrapped around his wrist, starts to sink its nails into his skin.

Eventually he stops and wraps his digits around the positively ruined fabric of your panties, making you think he’s gonna move it to the side and finally scratch the itch to have some part of him inside you. Boy were you wrong. Instead, he pulls the fabric upward teasing pressure directly onto your sensitive bud. Your bottom lip is slightly bleeding from how hard you’re biting down in an effort to stay quiet. You cannot believe you let your boyfriend mind-melt you into letting him touch you in such a public place, considering both of you are aware of how bad you are at keeping quiet even in the privacy of your own room.

A demon of lust must have possessed your beloved in that moment. Because he takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper filth into your ear again. “You’re so fucking wet for me I bet Dr. Hahn can hear you all the way down there baby. You want my fingers in your pretty pussy hm? Do you? Answer me.”

The best you can manage is a very small and hopefully inconspicuous nod while the professor is looking at the board. Jungwoo seems to understand this. “You do? Well then, beg me.” You swallow heavily. You are definitely sweating, it has got to be at least 20 more degrees in this classroom than it was before. Where did he learn to talk like this?

“Did you not hear me? I said, beg. Out loud. Do it. Or I swear I will get up and leave you like this right now, probably dripping all over the chair like a whor-“

“Okay! I think after an hour and a half, a break is in order. Everyone get up and go get a drink and something to snack on. We will reconvene in 15 minutes.” Dr. Hahn announces before leaving, presumably to get his own refreshments.

The entire class gets up and slowly files out, chatting amongst themselves. After a few minutes of very tense waiting, you both breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only ones left in the hall. Nobody spared a glance under your table. As bold as your partner is being now, he is still very shy at the idea of actually getting caught.

You swallow thickly and glance over at Jungwoo only to discover he was already looking your way with a fond grin. He slinked his hand away from you under the table causing you to let out a small whimper at the loss of his warmth. His other hand cups your cheek, softy caressing it before he leans in to steal a kiss off your lips. The kiss itself was very romantic compared to what had just occurred, you knew he was trying to make sure you understood he didn’t mean what he said. Even after all this time his sweetness still makes your heart do backflips.

When he breaks away he giggles cutely and starts packing up his things. You stare at him in confusion, “Babe we still have 30 minutes of class left after this break”. He doesn’t acknowledge your question, instead double checking that the few notes he had typed were saved to his laptop before shutting it off and sliding it into his bag.

Then he started getting on the floor.

You couldn’t be more perplexed with your lover’s behavior when that vile little smirk reappears before you. He shuffles a little bit until he has somehow fit his entire tall body underneath the desk. Wait… he’s not thinking…

“Kim Jungwoo. We’re gonna get caught if you do this.”

He hits his head on the roof of the desk and hisses in pain. “We won’t get caught, so long as you can just be quiet for once. You can’t see anything from the front”. Unfortunately he was right. The thick wooden tabletop folded over the front, forming a wall. It was made this way to prevent professors from accidentally looking up people’s skirts. Considering how you’re using it right now, it’s a pretty genius invention.

At this point Jungwoo was fully under the tabletop and seated between your legs. He started rubbing his cheek against your thigh, not unlike a dog would, in an attempt to convince you join his evil scheme. “Just want a little taste that’s all my honey” he cooed in a sickly sweet voice, jutting out his lower lip. Fuck. He learns far too quick how to push your buttons. He starts murmuring between kisses to your exposed skin. “Please? Pretty please? You can finally cum after all this time won’t that be so nice? Know my mouth can make you feel so good, just love you so much”. A knot you didn’t know was forming in your stomach began to tighten. This was so risky. You needed him so bad after getting cockblocked in four different cities, but the prospect of losing your academic and social dignity still weighed heavily on the your mind.

While you deliberate, Jungwoo crawls his hand up your leg to grab hold of yours. He drags your fingers down your lower body and plants it on his head. “I’ll let you play with my hair how does that sound?”. Meeting his eyes you can see the swirling darkness from earlier has returned, beckoning you to dive in. That little minx. His duality makes your head spin. One moment he’s swinging arms with you like a child as you wander the street of Germany, the next he’s convincing you to let him eat your pussy in a room full of people. You’d be lying if you said you wanted him to back away. You wanted to do this, needed him so badly. Fuck dignity. “Okay Ju-Jungwoo okay just, be quick about it.” The way he wiggled with glee should be downright criminal.

“Don’t worry baby, I know you won’t last long”. He wasted no time pulling your panties down to your ankles. He left small pecks all the way up your thigh. When he met your core, which was still leaking from earlier, you felt him practically purr in delight. As he kissed your clit, you heard the large classroom door swing open. A couple students had returned from the break and were still chatting away about their plans for the evening. You thought Jungwoo had chickened out since he froze for a moment but he soon went back to work. Running his tongue through your folds, following the same route his fingers had. Large hands moved down to hold your legs apart. You remembered yours was still enmeshed in his hair. Feeling bold, you gave it a good tug. Your partner hummed quietly against your clit sending shockwaves down your spine and your nerves into overdrive. Quickly you swung your head to the left to see if the other group of students had heard, but they were still just talking it up.

More students began to filter back in as Jungwoo lathed the pad of his tongue heavily up and down over your most sensitive area. Your grip on his hair tightened but you didn’t dare pull it again. You’ll have to remember to poke fun at him later. Jungwoo yanked you forward by your legs to get a better angle for his meal. Slowly he pushed his tongue inside as Dr. Hahn and the rest of the class returned. It took everything in you to be quiet but your grip on your boyfriend’s puppy-soft strands helped to ground you a bit.

“For this remaining half hour, there is a Ted-talk I would like to show you that may help you better understand the subject. It is about 20 minutes long and you may ask questions with the last 10 minutes of our time today.” The lights in the hall were dimmed, and the projector turned on. In a matter of moments the ‘Ted-Ed’ screen appeared at a moderately high volume. The perfect cover.

Jungwoo seemed to have this realization too, because he slipped his tongue out of you to push two of his fingers in. You couldn’t help but let out a hum at the stretch and hastily covered it up by clearing your throat. You faintly hear your boyfriend chuckle underneath you at your oh-so clever coverup. The pace his fingers set is unbearable. Thrusting in an out quickly like a well oiled machine. You start squirming in your seat, unable to handle the pleasure without moving. Jungwoo reprimands this by sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your thigh, a nonverbal way to say ‘Stop running away from me’.

You have no idea how nobody else in the room is hearing the way your pussy squelches with each thrust of his long, veiny fingers. Just picturing the image of what it must look like is enough to put you close to the edge. There’s just something about Jungwoo’s hands that drives you insane. The way he delicately manicures them, wraps them around his phone, draws circles with them on your back. Even the most mundane tasks he performs with his hands can set you ablaze. He will never let you live the ‘finger painting incident’ down.

You’re so lost in your dirty mind you hardly notice that he’s added a third finger, dragging you up to the threshold of your impending climax. He begins littering hot kisses along your legs again and you’re practically panting, yanking on his hair hard enough to send the message loud and clear that you’re close. He responds by latching his lips back onto your clit and sucking like his life depends on it. You feel his large front teeth bite down on your sensitive bud and suddenly you’re cumming so hard your vision is white. Somewhere in between la la land and the real world you get a hint of a metallic taste on your tongue. Presumably where you’ve split your lip open trying to be quiet. You start coming down to the feeling of Jungwoo’s hands gently caressing your thighs, massaging the tense muscles and leaving chaste pecks on any places he might’ve bit too hard. His touch conveyed the ‘Was so good, I love you so much”, that he usually blabbers out after a sex session.

Suddenly, the lights are flipped back on and through nearly closed eyes you see the projector screen being rolled up. “Alright, well I hope you feel a little bit better about what we learned today. I know everyone wants to get out of here and site see so if you have any questions please reach out to me via email or come early to our next class. Dismissed!”. You don’t have to wait very long for everyone else to leave though you had to stall with your bag a bit to convince the professor you weren’t lingering to ask a question.

When Jungwoo emerged from under the table his hair was sticking up in all directions and his face was covered inch-to-inch in blush. He was so red you thought he might pass out. You never want him to be too embarrassed, but sometimes when he does get shy he’s just too cute to handle. Despite being a little freaky during the act, he always hides his face in your neck after you get intimate back home. You can only imagine the level of sheepishness he is experiencing now. You laughed when he avoided eye contact with you and stood up to smooth his hair back down a bit and pull your probably ruined underwear back up under your dress. “You are so precious sometimes you know that?”.

A bashful smile and laugh took the place of his flustered pout. He stole one more quick kiss from you and laced your fingers together. “Don’t make me more embarrassed!” he complained while checking his phone. “Did you wanna go get ice cream from that place we passed on the way here? Jaehyun said he and Mark are already there since their class ended really early”. You nodded and let your handsome man lead the way.

This brings you back to the present day. Pushed up against the door of Jungwoo’s bedroom he’s renting in Jaehyun’s house. Suffocating under his relentless lips. He finally breaks away to hiss, “God it’s been so long, missed you, need to be inside you, wanted it every night”. Your shirt is pulled over your head and thrown across the room. The clasp of your bra is undone before you can even blink. The warmth of his mouth on your chest feels so good after so long. You could’ve cried if not for your animalistic need to have your boyfriend inside of you as soon as possible.

“Jungwoo please. Just want you in me. Need you to cum inside please, please”. You are beyond desperate at this point. That dark look in Jungwoo’s eyes is back again, “Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Can’t think without me being inside you can you? Pretty baby is such a slut just for me”. Your pants were unfastened and thrown as well, presumably landing in the same heap the rest of your clothes had been piled up in. He pressed his body against yours again, his mouth finding yours out of instinct. This time you were the one to end the kiss, putting a finger on Jungwoo’s lips when he tried to chase you down again.

“Its not fair that I’m the only one without clothes Woo. Let me help you out of yours”. You slide your cold palms underneath the bottom hem of his Stussy t-shirt. Massaging his abs and dragging your fingernails up his torso to tease him. A low pitched mix between a growl and a whimper emits from him. As your fingertips swirl around his nipples causing his breathing to get shallow, you get a dastardly idea. After tearing his shirt over his head, you sink down to your knees. Eye-to-eye with his swollen bulge in his pants. “You look so tense here too Woo. Poor boy. Don’t worry I’ll help you”.

Before he can say a word you’ve taken his cock out of his pants. He was so worried the very first time you’d sucked him off, “It’s a little big so just be careful don’t hurt yourself”. By now you knew just how much you could take of your boyfriend’s ‘gifted asset’ and he wasn’t afraid to let you have it. Gathering up some spit in your mouth you let it dribble onto his cock before engulfing the head. It almost sounded like Jungwoo was in pain he was groaning and huffing so loudly. You recalled that just outside this door was a huge ‘Welcome Home’ party full of fellow students that could probably hear him over the thumping bass if they stood close enough. Payback for Berlin.

As you sank farther down his length, swirling your tongue along the sides, Jungwoo’s sounds had turned to incoherent mumbling. “Mmhnm love you soomuch you’re so sogood. So hot fuck so hot. Wanna be in you wanna feel you. I can’t- fuck- can’t cum yet don’t wanna cum now”. He was practically fucking your mouth he was squirming so much. After another few minutes of your hot mouth torturing his length he laced his fingers in your hair to yank you off. “Gotta save it for inside you baby just like you wanted”.

You stand up and he starts shoving you in the direction of his bed until you both fall backwards so he can clamber on top of you. He must have stepped out of his sweatpants on the way over because his cock was standing proudly in his right hand as he towered over you to pin your wrists down with his left. He dragged his dick against your folds, covering it in the flood of slick that was already waiting for him. Every sense in your body was laser-focused on him. “You want my cock huh? Ready for me to finally fuck you open?” You almost gave yourself whiplash with how enthusiastically you nodded you head. “Oh no baby. That’s not how we ask” he chuckled cruelly, “Beg me”. All the hairs on your body stood upright. “Beg me like the good whore you are. Letting me push you up against a wall wherever I please, letting me eat you out and feel you up in front of so many people. You have no pride left to cling to. So don’t pretend to be fucking shy. If you want it so bad, beg.”

Where this sadistic demon came from, you do not know. But one thing is for sure, your mind is dangerously blank and you’re wetter than you think you’ve ever been in your life. Very aware of how red your face is, you attempt to quietly bargain with him. “Jungwoo I can’t its too-” “Don’t bullshit me. If you can speak then you can ask me nicely”. It seems like you’ve got no choice.

You swallow your pride as far down as you can bear and whimper, “Please fuck me”.

“What was that? I didn’t hear anything.” Oh my god you were gonna kill him after this was over.

Louder this time you utter, “Please fuck me Jungwoo I’ve waited long enough.”

“Hmm.” He seems to consider your response for a moment. “You can do better than that. Not nearly desperate enough.”

“Oh my fucking god please fuck me. Please. Need you to make me yours. Fuck me so good the way only you can. I’ll be your slut I’ll do whatever you ask just please fill me up”. You’re sure someone outside had to have heard all that but you couldn’t care less when Jungwoo shoves himself inside you at long last. The stretch hurts a bit but the relief you feel draws a loud moan from your chest. “Yes fuck please”. You lock lips again in a messy and desperate attempt to be as close as physically possible. A string of spit rolls down your cheek but you’re both so far gone there’s no way to determine who’s it is.

Slowly he pulls out and shallowly thrusts back in. Sex with Jungwoo isn’t normally fast or rushed, he’s the type to want to take his time and be in your warmth as long as he can stand it. But his strokes make your toes curl every time. They brush just over your sensitive spot and glide across your walls in the most perfectly satisfying way. He slowly starts to find a pace, thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm. The noises coming from your pussy are pornographic. The wet sounds are so loud that anyone would know exactly what you were up to. You would be a little embarrassed if not for the way Jungwoo was eating it up.

“Oh my god you’re so fucking soaked I’m gonna have to get new sheets” There are some who say laughing isn’t sexy, but the dark chuckle that comes from Jungwoo after that statement is downright nasty. “Fuck- you missed me huh baby?” you think you nod in response but you’re so concentrated on the pleasure that you’re honestly not sure. The skin-on-skin contact feels so amazing after so long. You’re hypersensitive to the places where the two of your bodies are stuck together, it makes your nerves set on fire and the knot in your stomach pull tighter. The way Jungwoo’s tall figure has to arch slightly to be above you. Giving you the perfect view of his toned stomach and arms. It’s like he’s everywhere. The thought of wanting him to engulf you in his entire being makes you feel so insane, but it’s so hot.

“I missed you too, missed the way you wrap around me, the way you sound, how good you smell,” he keeps talking in that condescending tone you like but you can hear the whimpering start to creep in like it does when he’s close, “Couldn’t stop thinking about having you, almost came in my pants in that alleyway when you pulled my hair,” the pace of his thrusts gets faster and sloppier, “You were so good for me when I ate you out in the lecture hall, so fucking hot. It’s like you’d do any filthy thing I asked just to get a piece of me.” He lets go of your wrists to slide his hand gently over your neck, he applies no pressure but the mere weight of his long, perfect fingers on your windpipe sends goosebumps trailing up your body. “Maybe I should hold out on you more often hm? If it makes you lose your mind this much.” He gives your neck a gentle squeeze and you quite nearly finish on the spot. “You close baby? Does my pretty slut wanna cum?” You answer in the form of a choked out groan. Hoping desperately that that would be enough for him.

Of course you really should know better than that.

You could cry when he suddenly slows down to almost nothing, shallowly sliding in and out at a snails pace. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “What did I fucking say earlier. Use your words or I’ll pull out and make you watch me finish in my hands.” You try to string together any coherent thoughts you have left. You come up with nothing but a jumbled mess of “Cum please”, “Please Jungwoo”, “Need it”. The way he laughs in your face as you desperately plead with him to let you cum is sinful. There’s a delicious duality at play between his calm and sweet tone and sadistic actions that drives you crazy. Your cries seem to have been good enough for him though, as he resumes his punishing rhythm a minute after. His breathing is ragged and the sounds of the party outside are completely drowned out by the squelching of your lower bodies. “Mmhmn fuck- baby you want it inside? Want me to fill you up? Make you all mine? Stuff you so full of my cum that Jaehyun and Mark can see it leak out tomorrow?”.

“Yes please, yes please fill me up, wanna be yours all yours” Your mind is going blank, you’re right up against the cliff. With your free hands you reach up to grab his hair, claw his back, anything to ground yourself for the impending fall.

“Cum for me baby cum all over me. I’ll fill you up just like you want.” With his permission, you’re shoved unceremoniously right off the edge. You can hardly see or breathe, all you can think about is how warm he feels, how good it feels, how much you love him. Jungwoo follows right after you, fucking you through your climax right into his own. When you come back down to Earth, his entire body is draped over your chest. Slightly crushing you, but you couldn’t care less. The primal need to have your lover’s skin and sweat on yours makes any discomfort insignificant. He’s panting so hard you fear he may pass out while still inside you.

“Baby? Woo? You okay?” You reach up to comb your fingers through his hair and rub circles on his back. He can be so rough with you, but he’s still your giant puppy when the deed is done. What came next was a surprise.

Jungwoo starts moving again.

“Ju- jung- babe what are you-“ Somehow he lifts himself back up enough to silence you with a sloppy kiss. The over sensitivity is sickly sweet. And the way his cum gets fucked out and leaks down your ass adds to the pleasure.

“Fuck- wanna be in you forever. Wanna lock you up here so I can have you all the time.” He sounds so desperate it’s killing you. His voice is almost on the verge of tears, as if not being inside you would be the most unimaginable tragedy to him. His reaches a hand down to swirl two fingers over your clit. You let out a borderline scream from the over stimulation. “One more for me? Please baby give me one more I know you can. Just one more for me my pretty. Wanna feel you cream my dick one more time”.

Well. Who could possibly say no when he asks like that?

You can hear footsteps just outside the door and you can feel your lust increase at the thought of being caught, much to your surprise. Jungwoo slams a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your rather loud sounds. But it only serves to make you moan even louder when his perfect fingers are in such close proximity to your mouth. He swirls the fingers on your clit as fast as he possibly can and leans down to breathe in your ear again,“Give it to me honey, cum for me. Wanna make you feel so good, just let go on me baby”. The pressure in your body is akin to a pipe bursting. The intensity of the first orgasm is almost doubled by the second. You feel like you cum for hours, Jungwoo rubbing your clit and fucking his seed up into you all the way through it. He’s so perfect. He treats you so well. Makes you feel amazing.

This time when you come to, it’s to the sensation of a wet washcloth rubbing down your lower body. Jungwoo is no longer inside you and is doing his best to clean up the mess he’s made of his lover. His top half is still bare but he does have his sweatpants back on. When he sees that your eyes seem to have consciousness behind them, he has that award winning bashful grin on his face. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, nose, and lips before leaning down to flop on the bed next to you. He buries his face in the side of your next and breathes deeply in before slowly exhaling. You can feel the red flush on his face against your cooling skin. It makes you giggle sweetly, the way he gets so shy after things like this. It partly why you find yourself so endeared by him though. You give him a small kiss on his scalp. “Are you all finished big boy or are you gonna surprise attack me again?” You cheekily poke his back side while he laughs.

“I’m sorry! I just, didn’t want to be done with you yet”.

“It felt good though”.

“You’re not fibbing?”.

“No puppy it was really good!”.

“Please don’t call me ‘puppy’ right after I sexxed your brains out”. He earns himself a smack on the ass for that one. “Hey! It’s true isn’t it?”

“Yes but don’t used the word ‘sexxed’ please. What are you twelve?”. Your playful banter post-orgasm is one of your favorite moments with Jungwoo. Although, any minute you get to spend with him is probably your favorite.

“I was scary wasn’t I? You seemed to like it a lot.” His boba eyes start to peek at you as he lifts his head a bit from the crook of your neck. The shyness is starting to wear off making way for his usual silliness.

“You were SO scary baby, very scary”. Your sarcasm makes him pout a bit. Then he sits up, furrows his brows, and starts attacking your stomach with tickles. Your innocent laughter rings out like a chiming bell and it makes Jungwoo fall for you even more than he already has somehow. “Okay okay! You were sexy it was hot. It was very manly.”

Satisfied with your answer, he ends his tickle assault and gives you a cartoonish smolder. “Tsch- I knew it. I’m just too hot and sexy for you to resist”.

You sit up as well and step out of the bed as best you can with wobbly legs. “Come on ‘Hot and Sexy’ lets rinse off before we have to go face the judgement of ‘Dumb and Dumber’ downstairs”.

“Wait!”

You turn towards him in confusion. He grabs both your cheeks and plants a very sweet kiss on your lips one last time. “Okay. Now I’m satisfied”. His fluffy hair is all in his eyes, which are beaming with love-light. His still rosey cheeks are the perfect picture of beauty.

What are you gonna do with him.

[piratesfromspace]

Night Blue (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

Rated: Mature

Word count: 3k

Summary: "Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor." or when Price comes to your rescue.

Note: I'm not the author of this fic, it is actually a Christmas gift from my boyfriend (yes I have the best boyfriend ever)! He writes for a living and has yet to dip his toes in fanfic territories, but I think he did fantastic and was very good at writing with the female gaze in mind. His take on Price has me drooling. He used the codename Rain, but note this is not part of the Rain Universe. Please let him know in the comment what you think of his first CoD fanfic!

Content: military!fem!reader, Reader has blue eyes but no body description other than that, mention of food & alcohol, rescue mission, implied torture, competency kink, typical level of violence

Muffled voices. Metallic clinking. Crowded interior. This could be your next mission. Or the last one. But it isn’t. It’s only a date. Well, Only. If only “only” could be only. It isn’t. It’s been years. You know him. This isn’t a first. But somehow, your heart is racing. It’s a fancy restaurant, after all. In the middle of good old London. He always had great taste, if not old-fashioned. But he’s late. He’s always late. You never understood that. How could someone that precise on the field be this messy in civvy street? Where the heck is he?

Did he try to take the tube? Again? He can’t do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened the last time 141 was deployed in London. He should be in a cab right now, on his way, with a big, innocent grin on his face. At least, you hope he is. You don’t want to drink this expensive bottle alone. Spend the night by yourself. Fall asleep in a cold bed. 

“Don’t let me down, Bravo 6.”

You said it aloud with a sigh. Someone answers.

“Oh, you know I won’t, darling.”

He’s here. Where did he come from? Doesn’t matter. His noise discipline is on point. That’s something he brings from the field. Ever so stealthy, he takes the chair before you and says “hi” in his thick accent. Thick as his moustache. What’s the name again? Mutton chops or something. He’s so damn proud of it. It’s cute. You noticed he trimmed it for the occasion and probably added some kind of oil to it. You smell it from here. An odd but somewhat comforting smell. Like a cosy fireplace or a warmish glass of Scotch. You wonder if your sheets will smell like that in the morning. He’s trying to say something, but you're already lost in the thought. Split seconds where you don’t listen, only think about those infamous mutton chops climbing your legs. Focus, damn it. What is he wearing? A suit? That’s strange. Well, you always thought anything besides a loaded chest rig looked weird on him. Wait, no. That’s not true. He wears jumpers and cardigans quite nicely. You always pictured him as an old British gentleman. A sailor embarking on a frail boat. Or a hunter walking to a black forest. Something like that. Old-fashioned indeed. It’s an acquired taste. 

So you talk. Like a lot. Spend time in each other’s eyes. Those grey-blue marbles, in which you see more than what is said. The joy of the moment, of being here, yes. But also the sadness, the pain. What is supposedly left behind, somewhere on a desolated field, and yet always comes back to scratch those eyes. It’s okay. You have the same. That’s why it’s working. But you remember. You remember how bright, much brighter, these eyes were the first time you saw them.

TEN YEARS AGO

Black and white. Night and snow. Somewhere in Northern Europe, the winter wind sweeps the clouds across the sky and dusts the flakes off the trees. But two bushes remain still. Until they don’t. All ghillied up, two operators crawl in powder snow. They talk as loud as the wind allows them to. 

“Follow me and keep low, lieutenant. Target’s right ahead.” 

“Solid copy.”

Captain MacMillan leads the way in near-total silence. His second in command, Lieutenant John Price, tries to keep up. He misses the warmth of the base. Of a pub. Of anything warmer than this icy desert at this point. But he needs to stay focused. They’re deep into enemy territory, trying to retrieve an ally he only knows by reputation. A track record he admires. So he wonders. What happened? A trap? A mistake? Perhaps it’s a warning in disguise. It goes to show that no one is ever too good to get caught. To get killed. 

Listen to the captain. Do what the captain says, his head repeats. Enough to forget his instincts or the will to think for himself. Violence and timing. Once you’re on the field, only these two matter. They don’t require you to think. Only to act, and act at the right moment. Old man MacMillan told him so. And despite his age, Alpha Six is teaching him a lesson. The captain moves like a damn ghost. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s almost like the snow melts around him so he can look like a real bush. The deadliest bush in the country, probably.

“It’s a goddamn convention around here, John.”

Price looks down. The warehouse and its surroundings are barely lit, but using thermal goggles, he can already count twelve guns guarding the target, plus three engineers working on an Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Guards, not soldiers. The new plague of the free world: PMCs. Former soldiers, swapping insignias for fatter paychecks. Russian, probably. He hears them talking through the wind. Or maybe French. They hire all across Europe, after all. The captain’s accent brings him back to Scotland.

“We could wait for them to break off, but that’d be playing with the target’s life, and we’d probably freeze our asses to death… There’s only one way to do this, innit?”

“Right. Care for a suggestion, captain?”

“I’m all hears, lieutenant.”

“That IFV. Maybe it is operational. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to find out. We take it down first. C4 should do the trick. They hear the boom. We split. You dance, I get inside. Once the target’s identity is confirmed, I take the long trek home through the forest, and meet you at LZ.” 

“You forget your rank, lieutenant. Why should I be the one dancing, John?”

“With all due respect captain, you forget your back. I’m sure the target’s a big boy. Unless you’re ready for the fireman carry of your life, you let me do it. If you hurt yourself, who will put those Christmas lights on the tree? Your wife will never forgive me…”

“Alright John, lead the way.” 

They don’t need their ghillies anymore. The bushes become men. They check their weapons. Price is about to take point when MacMillan nudges him. His fatherly smile almost lights the dark.

“The next time you bring my wife into this kid, you’re going down.”

“Roger that, captain.”

One of the engineers went for a cigarette. Lord bless the smokers. They all leave their post, eventually. Even when they don’t, that smoke will shake their focus. Move fingers away from triggers, grenades, alarms. Enjoy that last cigarette, lad. This smoke’s about to kill you faster than lung cancer. MacMillan jumps from the white shadows, arms instantly locked on his prey. His combat knife bites. Screams die in the engineer’s throat. Blood bubbles explode. The wind covers almost everything. The fluff of the snow takes care of the rest. 

Words come to them, though, and both captain and lieutenant freeze instantly. Their weapons are up, ready to strike. But they don’t want to fight. Not here, not now. More words. Price is trying to make sense of them, but he skipped too many classes for that. Damn you and your bad boy attitude, he thinks, until he hears a laugh. The words are repeated, but not as a question. That delivery transcends all languages. It’s a joke. Tension goes down, but MacMillan is already one step ahead. 

Pripyat. Urzikstan. Many more. Price has fought next to the captain since he joined the SAS. It’s a weird thing, but by now, he probably knows him better than friends. Better than family. And it shows. They don’t have to speak, but that’s always been a requirement on the field. What’s more impressive is they don’t have to sign full sentences either. They’ve experienced enough settings and parameters to understand how the situation will eventually play out. So they commit to the action, together, before the scenario can even start. Like two polished pieces of the same high-precision clock, they act as one to define time itself. 

“Together”, he signs.

For the two engineers, it’s time to die. Focused on the scratched hull of their IFV, these poor bastards never see it coming. A .45 ACP bullet penetrates their skulls at subsonic speed and settles down in their brains, avoiding any ricochet on the armoured surface of the vehicle. They climb on top of the tank. Price removes the bodies to find a hatch while MacMillan gets a block of C4 ready. Except for the wind, the place is silent. Which means no one knows they’re here. Good. But it could also mean the target is dead by now. The same thought has crossed the captain’s mind. He suddenly acts faster, despite the gloves and the numbed fingers they’re supposed to protect. Price follows and places the C4 inside the IFV, next to what he remembers to be a fuel tank.

About ninety-two seconds later, John learns his memories are correct. From the safety of distance, MacMillan has blown the IFV straight to hell in one glorious explosion. But it only takes about twenty more seconds for the PMC to react, learns Price on his watch. And that’s bad news. They’re still sharp. Drilled. Ready to respond. And they do. John counts half of them spreading out of the warehouse through truck gates and access doors. Their plan is sound. They’re looking out, trying to nullify the effect of surprise with a solid assessment of who or what is outside.

And it’s only one man, but he gives them a round for their money. MacMillan uses every trick in the book and every weapon he carries to make them think there’s a whole squad hunting for them behind the snow, between those big black trees. And they fall for it. At least one of the mercenaries does, and chooses to provide firing support from the door he was supposed to shut behind his comrades. 

John sees the opportunity immediately. Timing. In just a few rounds, the mercenary will have to reload. Or maybe he will suddenly realise the door is still open and stop firing. An empty mag hits the floor, and Price jumps out of cover. Violence. He grabs the mercenary’s weapon with one hand while the other secures the kill. The bastard’s heavy, and the thump of his fall makes a lot of noise. Silenced handgun raised, Price waits for a moment, scanning the entry corridor for potential targets. But no one comes. More words, inside. More shots, outside. Chaos is settling in, everywhere.

Another opportunity, then. Price presses on, checking his corners with the precision of a machine. A door opens to his right. Two mercs, rushing out of a room to help their comrades overwhelmed by MacMillan’s tactics. John is almost as surprised as they are, but not quite. Timing. They’re too fast, and likely to fire from the hip. Violence. He empties his mag on the two targets. One mercenary drops suddenly, like a puppet cut from its strings. The other falls, but slowly. His vest caught the heat. If he’s good, there’s a chance he might go for a sidearm, or a knife. No time to reload then. Price runs and then falls on his knees to finish his target with a clean cut from his combat blade. The bastard knows death is coming, but he’s not ready to embrace it just yet. His arms move in a life-or-death reflex, and Price is stopped a few centimetres away from a kill. There’s no timing anymore. Only violence, a test of raw strength. John tries to stab the merc down the neck. The poor guy can’t do anything but buy some time, and wait a few seconds for someone to go check the corridor. But no one comes for him. Only death, in the form of a straight silver blade slowly piercing his throat.

Rolling to the side, Price suddenly remembers to breathe. Staying on his back, he reloads his weapon without thinking, his two eyes locked on the door the mercs have opened seconds prior. He counts. One when he entered. Two in the corridor. With half of them still outside fighting MacMillan, that’s two mercenaries unaccounted for. Usually, it is the wounded, the insecure or the frightened you leave behind. But when it comes to target protection, it’s the other way around. Your last wall of defence is also the toughest. The big guns stay with the target until the end. If Price wasn’t so actively trying not to think, maybe he would have remembered that. 

He enters the room. More like a hangar. It’s dark. Only the moon and distant muzzle flashes provide some light through large, rectangular windows. Timing? Put the night vision set on, find the bastards, and apply a bit of violence. Wait. Price holds on to his set. Did someone cut the power? It could be MacMillan toying with them. But more likely, the mercs have figured their opponents are properly equipped. And now, they’re just waiting for Price to put his night vision on. They want him to rely on the tool, for there’s no faster way to blind a man than putting the power back at the right moment. So Price throws the night vision set away, into the room. Five thousand quid of government-issued tech crash on the industrial floor. One second. Two seconds. The light goes back and the night vision set dies a second time, broken apart by crossfire. 

The shots from the right probably came from that little accounting office Price sees through a piece of shattered glass. He resists the urge to throw a grenade, that could threaten the target’s life. His back on the wall, he’s getting closer to the office. More words. They come from the left. These mercs can’t shut up to save their lives. What is it this time? There’s a trace of panic in the sentences. They’re probably asking for reinforcements, but there’s a hell lot of static on the other end of the line. MacMillan has done his part, and there’s no military base around anyway. In typical Laswell fashion, Kate had saved the only piece of good news for the end of her briefing, Price remembers. So good luck with that, lad. But keep talking. The echo allows John to move closer and closer to his next kill. Until the warehouse is silent again. Until something inside the office decides to move. 

It’s a lock. Inside the door, it jiggles enough for Price to notice someone’s about to leave the office. He waits for the final click to bash the gate. It arrives a split-second later, and John kicks the door like his dad used to kick rugby balls on Sunday mornings. Wood breaks. Bones follow. Price puts another bullet in another skull. It happens so fast the merc can’t even fight or scream. But his finger was already on the trigger, so his assault rifle yelled for him. The burst catches price off-guard. Bullets pound his plate and the walls alike. He falls. 

When the kick finally fades, the world is backwards. Literally. Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor. Or is it the ceiling? He’s not sure anymore. His ears are buzzing. His chest is compressed by the impact. There’s no gun in his hands. He wants to rise but he can’t. Someone comes. Someone that’s not MacMillan. Price rolls from back to belly. The world looks finally looks right again. Well, right as it can be when you’re crawling unarmed in the face of the Grim Reaper.

His weapon raised, the last merc stops next to the target and fires. Not rounds, but words. More words. Insults, probably. Weirdly, they’re not aimed at Price. They’re for whoever is still under the same black hood they always put on prisoners. She answers, proudly, in their language. 

Wait, she?

Gunshots. They come from outside, from the forest. Surprised, the last merc tries to sneak a look between the crates. Price gathers the little strength he has left to look for a weapon. But he’s still dizzy. A hippo with a full belly would be faster. He looks up, facing death with both eyes open. Only death doesn’t come for him. The target is free. She climbs on the mercenary like a damn spider, using her legs to maintain the bastard’s weapon against his chest while she strangles him with the little piece of plastic tying her two hands. John finally finds his sidearm. He wants to help her. He wants to shoot. But SAS lieutenant John Price is not so sure of his aim anymore. So he looks, and eventually, the mercenary crumbles.

Price now moves a bit faster and a bit closer. The target’s still fighting. But her prey is long dead. There’s no breathing left in him. His neck is broken. So broken that little piece of plastic is slowly severing head from body. And yet she fights, furiously. Moving slowly, talking even slower, he tries to calm her down. She releases her grip on the dead mercenary. Describing his every move out loud, John carefully guides his blade between her two hands and next to her neck. Underneath the bruises and the cuts, she’s a woman alright. Their eyes locked. Back to the mission.

“Lieutenant John Price, British SAS. I need your codename, fast.”

“Why are you here? I had it under control!” 

Her voice is confident. Not a single taint of doubt in it. Price chuckles.

“I’m not sure I see it that way, darling. Now, give me your codename so I can get you out of here.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Again. Confident. She’s looking at the half-decapitated mercenary with disdain, not disgust. She killed before. In more ways than one. More brutal ways. 

“I had it under control.”

Her time to chuckle. She pauses. Takes one good look at him. That sort of threatening gaze birds of prey will give you if you happen to drive through their land. She measures. Judges. And weirdly enough, the whole thing ends with a sight smile.

“Codename’s Rain. Nice to meet you, lieutenant. Now, can a lady get a proper extraction, or what?”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Follow me.” 

They grab some gear and step out of the warehouse. Outside, the night is silent again. The moon shines on the black of the trees. The white of the snow. The red of the dead bodies. 

And the blue of their eyes. 

[blueiscoool]

3,600-Year-Old Jewelry and Weapon Hoard Found Under Field in Czech Republic

Archaeologists used metal detectors to find the hoard, which includes several pieces of jewelry and weapons.

Archaeologists discovered a hoard of Bronze Age artifacts while doing routine survey work in a field in the Czech Republic.

The bronze objects — which include eight arm rings, two pins, eight axes and one spearhead — were found near Budyně nad Ohří, a town about 35 miles (56 kilometers) northwest of Prague, Radio Prague International reported.

Researchers estimate that most of the items, which they found using metal detectors, date to around 1600 B.C.

"Most items are characteristic of the Middle Bronze Age, with only one ax belonging to the earlier period," Martin Trefný, an associate professor at the Museum of the Říp Region and the University of Jan Evangelista Purkyně and the curator of the hoard, said in an email. One ax is even older and dates to the Early Bronze Age.

"Axes could have been used as tools or weapons. The latter function also applies to the spearhead," Trefný said. "Bracelets were forearm ornaments, and pins served either to fasten clothing or, for example, to style women's hair."

Archaeologists remain unclear about why the hoard was buried, but they have proposed three possibilities.

"In the first case, the hoards are presumed to have a votive function, meaning they served as offerings to deities," Trefný said. "In the second case, we speak of an economic function, where hoards are interpreted as, for example, storage for manufacturers of the given items."

Alternatively, the buried items could reflect "a crisis situation, where it was necessary to hide the items, for example, from enemies," he said.

The treasure could be worth "millions of crowns," Trefný told Radio Prague International. (One million Czech crowns, or koruna, is about $42,500.)

"All the items testify to the technological advancement of bronze casters and processors in Central Europe 3,500 years ago," Trefný told Live Science. "The composition of the hoard also contributes to understanding the warfare, craft techniques and contemporary fashion of the time. Considering that hoards might have a ritual significance, they can also reveal a bit about the contemporary religion."

In the "near future," these found items will be on display at the Podřipské Museum, located about 30 miles (50 km) north of Prague, Radio Prague International reported.

By Jennifer Nalewicki.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my heterosexual uncle that Birkenstocks are mostly worn by lesbians?

To be clear, I'm not gatekeeping Birkenstocks. They're comfy, quality shoes. Everyone should wear them if they want to.

I was in Europe visiting family (I'm a first Gen American, most of my family apart from my parents and more recently their parents live in western Europe) and sort of noticed that there is definitely truth behind the whole ''gay or European'' thing. Men sit with their legs crossed, people take much better care of their things in general and care more about the quality of things, stuff that here is associated with being 'metrosexual.'

Birkenstocks in particular are very popular. At some point, I was talking with an uncle about things that are different back in America, and I mentioned that fashion is very different, for example Birkenstocks are mostly associated with the lesbian community back home, at least in my circles, while they're worn sort of universally over there. I didn't mean it as a negative thing at all, but I think he was kind of weirded out by it and my mom said it was rude to say that. I'm like, pretty autistic so I can't tell if he was offended or not or whether that was rude to say.

AITA for telling him his shoes are lesbian shoes in America?

What are these acronyms?

[racinggirl]

illegally good || Charles Leclerc 16

part of the 700 celebration drabbles!

words: 3k Oh my god, I know I said drabbles, but I promise it's good! I had such a blast writing this, I am in love. Mafia / confident / boss Charles is absolutely my favorite! also, excuse my French, this GIF? URGH. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy reading! Please let me know your thoughts about this fic below! I'd love to hear your perspective on it :) warnings: mafia, swearing, mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse (nothing major), all with a fluff ending because you know me

(as a part of my 700 followers celebration, I'm taking requests for drabbles, check this post for more information)

One thing you absolutely hated? Taking care of other people’s dirty jobs, especially when those people were getting the credits for it. Credit you should get, because those people did not deserve a single compliment about their efforts. 

It happened to you, and you were tired of it, tired of the fact you were not getting any promotions – if you could even call it promotions in the business you worked at – or credits for the things you did. So, you quit. You said goodbye to your old life, after months of trying to sneak away, to disappear from the radar entirely, before coming back as a new you.

New name, check. New hair, check. New house, new identity, check. 

All those things happened when you were just 12, growing up in the business your father, who was a leader of the mafia, built, hoping you’d take over that same business one day. But things changed, and especially for being a woman, you knew people wouldn’t listen. They weren’t moving with the years, they weren’t modernizing. No. They were old school, old fashioned and would think of a woman as a side job, someone who’d do all the dirty work, take care of the kids, be safe at home while the men would do the real deal. 

Your father wasn’t happy, at all, when you ran away at the age of 19. You moved countries, all on your own. Away from everything. You had promised your father you wouldn’t tell anyone about his business, about his secret life, if he’d leave you alone. You were the daughter of a mafia boss, after all. You knew how to get the things you wanted. 

Fast forward 3 years, in which you were a ‘normal’ university student. ‘Normal’ because, even though you were just 22 years old, you were rich. You were able to rent an apartment in the highest possible level, in the fanciest country of Europe. Monaco.

That’s why, you and your friends, who were studying fashion in Italy, were now wandering the crowded streets of your country. The Formula One weekend was here, which created thousands of people exploring the streets you called home. 

Loads of celebrity’s called Monaco their home as well, why? Taxes. Money. Living in Monaco meant life was expensive, but it also meant you could afford the expensive lifestyle due to the low taxes. Something that made the decision to moving to Monaco even easier. 

‘’This is amazing.’’ One of your friends exclaimed when you were walking through the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, of course you had tickets, you wanted them, so you’d get them. 

‘’It’s quite impressive, indeed.’’ You replied, your hands in the pockets of your jeans as you looked around, the colorful motorhomes of each team slowly appearing in front of you. However, one motorhome stood out, and not because of the color, but because of the person in front of it. 

Charles Leclerc, 25 years old, born and raised in Monte Carlo, Monaco. Formula One driver and loved amongst many. However, that’s not how you knew him. Aside from his job in the motorsports industry, he also was part of a group, and not just a normal group. 

Your father had warned you about them, but you knew it was just so you wouldn’t be sloppy with your work and to make sure you’d deliver the best possible outcomes. You had never met them, the Italian mafia, but you had heard stories. Rumors, about this man in front of you in particular. 

The Formula One career was a perfect cover up for the things he did, since nobody knew about it, and nobody would even believe the stories about Charles Leclerc being a member of the mafia. How could he, he was so innocent, so sweet and gentle. 

‘’Oh, my goodness that’s Charles Leclerc, come on, we should say hi!’’ You mentally strangled your friend the moment she started walking to the Ferrari driver, dragging the rest of your friends along with her. Just perfect. 

‘’Hi, Charles! It’s so nice to meet you, could we get a picture?’’ Charles listened to the ladies, as the gentleman he is, and took the pictures. However, you weren’t going to take one step closer to your enemy. Okay, he wasn’t technically your enemy anymore since you left your fathers business, but you couldn’t betray your family like that. 

‘’Come on y/n, join us for the pictures!’’ Your friends were standing next to Charles, as his racing suit was lowered to his hips, revealing the red fireproof top that fitted him like a glove. 

‘’I’m fine, thanks.’’ You weren’t taking your eyes off the Monegasque, feeling the need to keep an eye on whatever he did, every sneaky movement he’d make would be something you’d see. And he knew, he knew who you were, he knew what you were doing as well. 

However, he didn’t mention it, he didn’t put his active attention on you, knowing it would cause people to become suspicious. However, you weren’t stupid. You knew he knew, and that made you even more careful about your actions. 

‘’Goodluck on the race.’’ Your friends cheered on the driver, who returned a smile. ‘’Thank you, ladies, have fun watching the race. I’m sure you love some action.’’ And you knew those last words were directed towards you, that it was just a sneaky way of letting you know he knew who you were. 

Two months forward, and it was summer in Monaco. The sun was shining, people were swimming in the ocean, tanning on the beach, and you were one of them. As much as you told yourself the things from your past would stay in the past, you couldn’t help but keep thinking about him. Trying to track everything he did whenever you saw him walking through the streets of Monaco, driving his Ferrari, greeting fans. He almost looked innocent. Almost. 

It was late, almost 3 am, when you were walking through the dark streets of Monaco. Maybe you had a little too much to drink, but you for sure weren’t going to stay the night at the club. You were tired and wanted to go home. Your friends, however, were still having the best time of their lives, so you gave them the spare key to your house, not feeling the need to spend 3 more hours in that club. 

You were making your way home, humming slightly to yourself as you suddenly felt two hands gripping your waist, a little tighter than a friendly person would do. The action made you scream, but it was quickly muffled by another pair of hands on your mouth, preventing you from screaming even more. 

Your eyes were wide open, as you tried to identify the two men that were holding you. But it was dark, making it almost impossible for you to see who were hiding under the black beanies and mouth masks. 

‘’Silent, pretty, you’re coming with us.’’ And that’s when you knew. You recognized that voice, not because you’ve heard it live before, but because you heard it over the phone multiple times whenever your father had another heated discussion over the phone. 

‘’And what if I don’t want to, Niccolo.’’ You groaned, but the sharp metal leaning against your side made you clench your jaw, a sigh escaping your lips as your eyes closed to think. 

‘’I don’t think you have a choice, bambina.’’

-

‘’You know I quit 3 years ago, I have nothing, I know nothing.’’ You said as you felt the rope against your wrists, looking up at the right hand of Vincenzo, Niccolo. Before you could speak even more, the big metal door on the left opened, a big man, typical Italian, typical mafia boss, came walking through the doors. 

‘’Vincenzo, we found her, capo.’’ Niccolo spoke up, stepping aside to give the man full access to you. 

He grabbed your jaw, tightly, as he moved your face left to right, checking out your delicate features. ‘’No microphones, no cameras?’’ He grunted, harshly releasing his grip on your face the moment his workers told him you had nothing on you. 

‘’I fucking told you. I quit. I have nothing to do with my father anymore. I guess your minions aren’t the best at keeping an eye out for the competi-‘’ A harsh slap across your face made you shut your mouth, a burning sensation running through your cheek. 

‘’Shut up.’’ Vincenzo glared at you, pacing back and forth as he thought, about you, about your father, about the entire situation in front of him. 

You slowly turned your gaze forward again, moving your jaw left to right to try and get rid of the painful sensation. You stayed silent for a few more seconds, but again, you were the daughter of a mafia boss, this wasn’t the first time you got slapped in the face. 

‘’ You won’t get anything out of me, you know that.’’ You muttered, narrowing your eyes as Vincenzo appeared in front of you, the biggest smirk on his face as he rubbed your still burning cheek. 

‘’I know, bambina, I know, but I’m sure your father would hate to see his precious little daughter on the edge of death.’’ He whispered; the smirk still apparent on his face. You couldn’t help but feel shivers over your entire body. Maybe it was the fact the alcohol was getting out of your system, or maybe it was the intimidation you felt from the man in front of you, but you weren’t going to let them win. 

‘’You should brush your teeth, asshole.’’ You replied, watching the smirk disappear from Vincenzo’s face, followed by a black screen in front of you, the consequence of a harsh smack across the back of your head, causing you to pass out in the uncomfortable wooden chair. 

-

‘’She’s with me, yes.’’ You heard a faint voice on the other side of the room, the bright light from the sun outside being too much for your eyes to bare now, so you closed your eyes again, slowly. 

‘’No, she’s no longer part of the group. Listen to me, Vincenzo. You stay away from her, understood? If I ever see you near her again, I’ll make sure you won’t…’’ That’s all you could hear, the faint voice kept speaking, but you weren’t listening since you passed out again, but this time in a comfortable soft bed. 

You woke up hours later, it was dark outside, and there was a soft music playing in the background, piano music, to be precise. You tried to adjust to the environment for a few seconds before slipping your feet out of the bed, your toes running through the soft carpet at the sides of it. 

You weren’t wearing your party dress anymore, but instead, you were dressed in an oversized shirt, which for sure wasn’t yours. 

The headache at the back of your head was making it hard for you to focus, but you could swear the piano music was live, and not from a random radio station. The flawless melody paired with the fine tunes sounded like magic to your ears, and you followed the sound of the music till you found yourself in a room with the one man you for sure weren’t expecting. 

The music faded, until it completely stopped, but you didn’t move. You watched the back of the man as you leaned against the doorframe, your arms crossed in front of your chest. 

‘’Did you take the painkillers?’’ Was the first thing he said, without even turning around to face you. 

‘’No.’’ You saw them, but you weren’t going to take random pills on the nightstand in a room you didn’t know. 

‘’Are you feeling better?’’ The man asked again, this time slowly turning around to take a decent look at you. 

‘’Why am I here?’’ You asked. ‘’I already told Vincenzo I know nothing about the business my father has right now. So, what the fuck do you want?’’ You were annoyed, mostly by the fact you got kidnapped in the middle of the night, twice. You had lost track of time, not even knowing what day it was right now. 

‘’I’ll take that as a yes.’’ The man said, reaching for the cup of water which was standing on top of the piano. He handed it to you, to which you rolled your eyes. He then took a sip himself, and handed that same cup to you again, which, this time, you accepted. 

‘’Sit down.’’ He said, looking over to the couch after watching you take a sip of the water. 

‘’I’m perfectly fine standing where I am.’’ You replied, playing with the cup of water in your hands. 

‘’Whatever you’d like.’’ The man responded, taking a seat on the couch as he looked at the table in front of him. 

‘’I’d like an explanation, Charles.’’ You spoke. ‘’First, I’m being kidnapped by Niccolo at fucking 3 am after a party with my friends, only to be brought to Vincenzo, who’s not even hesitating a second to murder me. Then he beats me till I pass out, and I wake up in I assume your apartment, after I heard you talk to Vincenzo. What are you going to do to me, Charles, kill me? Hold me hostage? Torture me? I wish you luck, because I’m not giving you a single piece of information.’’ 

Charles sighed, heavily, his gaze moving from the table to you, before getting up from the couch. He walked closer towards you, lifting your chin up carefully to watch the bruises across your face. 

‘’I’m not like that anymore, y/n.’’ He started. ‘’I left the group once my career became serious when I got to Formula One. I’m not your enemy anymore.’’ He mentioned, and at first you didn’t believe him. But once he started to explain everything, from the way he had more power than Vincenzo, how his career in Formula One had become one of the most important things in life, and mainly how he followed you those last couple of months. He knew you were in Monaco, and he quickly found out you were no longer part of your fathers’ group. He almost felt obligated to keep an eye on you, to keep you safe from any of the things he knew Vincenzo would do, but he knew that if he told Vincenzo to stay away from you, he’d only give insight in the fact you were in Monaco, and Charles preferred to keep that a secret. 

However, when they found out you were currently staying in the country, they stroked, and before Charles could even do anything, they had captured you. The only thing Charles could do was demand Vincenzo and his group to bring you to his place, which he immediately did. He saved your life, and why? Because he knew you were innocent, you were just like him, someone that had been thrown at this life, but chose the right path instead of the wrong one. 

Now, years later, and you were walking through that same paddock where you saw him for the very first time. Only this time you weren’t just a stranger anymore. 

‘’y/n! y/n! Over here! This camera!’’ You smiled sweetly at the cameras, flashes lightening the way in front of you as you saw the man standing at the exact same place he was 4 years ago, only this time, he was your man. 

‘’Ciao bella.’’ Charles wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his lips pressing a delicate kiss against your temple as you closed your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’Hey handsome.’’ You responded; a smile painted on your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend. 

‘’Charles! Y/n! such a lovely couple, can you look at this camera for a second?’’ Photographers were slowly gathering around you, at which Charles’ arm wrapped around your shoulder even tighter, in order to keep you safe, to protect you from anything out there. Not that it was needed anymore, because Vincenzo had been arrested, along with the rest of his group. 

‘’Let’s go inside, hmm. I heard we have pizza inside.’’ Charles whispered in your ear, at which your smile grew even wider. ‘’Well then, come on, what are we waiting for?’’ You exclaimed happily, your hand intertwining with his as you walked inside the hospitality. 

But once you walked inside, you were disappointed with the fact there wasn’t a single slice of pizza to be seen. ‘’Charles!’’ You exclaimed, turning around to watch your boyfriend step closer to you. ‘’There’s no pizza…’’ You whispered as his arms wrapped around your waist, your arms resting on his shoulders as you played with the hair at the back of his neck. 

‘’I know, love, I just wanted you to myself.’’ He whispered, placing a few kisses at the corners of your mouth. ‘’And I’ll get you as much pizza as you want tonight.’’ He added, at which the corners of your mouth turned upward almost instantly. 

‘’I love you, Charles.’’ You whispered, closing your eyes as you felt his fingers tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘’I love you too, my love, more than you can ever imagine.’’ And with that, he pressed his lips on yours, slowly, softly, but oh so illegally good…

[calciumdeficientt]

what do you think context was behind justin's dialogue "derby told me last night i was his best friend"

Ohhhhhhh I’ve been ruminating on this ever since i listened to all the quote videos (please dont ask me why i did that i really really dont know) i pride myself on being somewhat of a stickler for the most inane and pointless background stuff.

Today i plan to answer the question:

WHY THE HELL DID DERBY SAY THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

The easy answer here would be to say that Derby was drunk, and simply feeling very loving(that sentence feels so insane to me for some reason).

Harrington house feels very much to me the hotspot for “gatherings” of the bullworth’s brightest, best and most sickeningly rich. The little guest list on the desk as you enter, as well as Bif on the door in the weed killer mission, and obviously the general worldview of the preps points towards a general pickiness to guests, likely not accepting anyone by on their own social circle. Another key background factor to consider is the little bar that derby cowers behind in Glass Jaw during his bossfight and also the bar in the beach house, leading me to believe that the events hosted at Harrington house are usually organised with the intention of drinking copious amounts of excessively strong and exceedingly expensive alcohol.

There’s bound to be a few contentious objectors to drinking, at least excessively, on school grounds and on school nights and i think the ever-pining proto-jock Justin probably doesn’t partake as much as Derby “I’m too rich to bother attending class” Harrington. All this to say, Justin was 110% more sober and therefore 110% more receptive to derby’s drunk babblings than any other partygoer, prep or otherwise.

In my mind, Derby Harrington, despite having everything he could ever conceivably want at the snap of his fingers, is one of the loneliest students at bullworth academy. He mentions being beaten by his father for fraternising with a nanny, and shows a general disdain for his betrothed, pinky, by not even bothering to show up for their dates. He cannot truly get close to anyone because of his position as an heir to a pretty substantial oil empire. Great care is needed to avoid being sliced right out of the will and being condemned to hush money by his father. Bif is great, but he’s not all that much emotionally, at least not in derby’s mind anyway. He’s far far beneath Derby, that’s made abundantly clear when Bif loses his boxing match to Jimmy; he’s sneered at with the kind of vitriole that can only come from someone who views himself as king of his own private universe. Justin is in the same boat just presumably with a lot less petty cash at his disposal. He’s a weird ass bitch who’s so incredibly desperate to expand his social circle into the Jocks’ because he feels somewhat inadequate in his own. To use his verbage, he’s a peon in the prep hierarchy. He’s weak and scrawny and of little use in the stature department, at least not when compared to Bif anyway.

This night, Derby is drunk out of his mind, as usual, and Justin is beside him, a little buzzed but not enough to put him off his studies for the next day. They are sat on opposite ends of a chaise longue in the drawing room. Well… Justin is sat, Derby is more slumped, folded over the armrest in a way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. He’s telling a story from a recent trip to Europe, about a girl he met in a city that his drunk brain just can’t seem to decide on the pronunciation of, gulping scotch out of a crystal glass like its going out of fashion. Justin is listening actively, trying to piece the story together amongst the many asides derby seems to be wandering off into. That’s when the bomb drops “know, i like to think you’re my best friend here Justin” “what?” “You heard me….. anyway this damn woman”

Safe to say it was the best night of Justin Vandervelde’s life.

[cyandreamz]

✭ Apollo Justice✭

Today I decided that I will do more full page drawings of AA characters. Unfortunately I don't think I drew a very good Apollo, but in my defence AA is the frist franchise I've hyperfixated over were I've not only cared about the more than one or two male characters but also have had a few of my favourite characters be male! So I'm much more comfortable drawing female characters (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Also I didn't change up his design aside from giving him the brown shoes he has in the AJ: trilogy promotional art instead of black shoes he has in older official art because I like it and it's actually my second fave lawyer suit design (favourite is Diego Armando's suit).

Anyways I've also decided I'll share my hc's for these characters for as long as I do this series :D, because I didn't share hc's for Athena on her post I'll share both Apollo and Athena hc's below, spoilers for AA4-6:

Both Apollo and Athena are trans and both socially transitioned as kids and grew up in trans supportive environments cuz in my mind the AA universe is queer friendly to balance out how dystopian their legal system is.

Apollo has no fashion sense aside from having a surprisingly good eye for men's formal/professional wear. So good in fact that Kristoph wouldn't of hired him if his suit looked bad (cuz he's that petty).

Apollo doesn't see Phoenix as a Dad but does simultaneously see him as a role model (though he'd never admit it) and hate him

he does however see Trucy as a little sister, even before learning she is actually his half sister

Apollo is gay and Athena is lesbian cuz one day I thought "hmmm image if the lawyers were trans and MLM and WLW solidarity?" and than it became a hc :P

I ship Apollo with Klavier and I like to think that Phoenix tries to give Apollo dating advice but Apollo ignores him because his advice is terrible! (Not on purpose, Phoenix is just really bad at relationships but it's works out for him cuz his partners are always just as bad, or somehow even worse at relationships than him)

however unlike Apollo I don't ship Athena with anyone, just don't feel like it lol

Athena met Phoenix in Europe at a park one of the many times Miles had him and Trucy come over to visit, by chance Trucy was doing magic tricks for random people in the park and Athena was one of these people. She was reading a book to study for the bar exam so Phoenix immediately talked to her about law after Trucy's trick.

Athena is fully multilingual (knowing most active European languages) and says non-english words by accident most of time (if she does it on purpose it's always to sound cooler in her opinion).

also I hc Athena as Austic cuz I can >:-)

Widget uses a Voicaloid sound bank, personally I like it imagine it's specifically Oliver because that's funny to me.

Widget also uses a custom OS that Aura Blackquill designed specifically for all the tech she built with Athena's mom.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Maude Fealy (King Rene’s Daughter, David Copperfield)—She served cunt all the time

Anna May Wong (The Thief of Bagdad, Shanghai Express)—Wong was the first Chinese American movie star, arguably the first Asian woman to make it big in American films. Though the racism of the time often forced her into stereotypical roles, awarded Asian leading roles to white actors in yellowface, and prohibited on-screen romance between actors of different races, she delivered powerful and memorable performances. When Hollywood bigotry got to be too much, she made movies in Europe. Wong was intellectually curious, a fashion icon, and a strong advocate for authentic Asian representation in cinema. And, notably for the purposes of this tournament, absolutely gorgeous.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Maude Fealy propaganda:

Anna May Wong propaganda:

"She so so gorgeous!! Due to Hollywood racism she was pretty limited in the roles she got to play but even despite that she’s so captivating and deserves to be known as a leading lady in her own right!! When she’s on screen in Shanghai Express I can’t look away, which is saying something because Marlene Dietrich is also in that film."

"SHE IS ON THE BACK OF QUARTERS also she was very smart and able to speak multiple languages and is a fashion icon on top of the acting/singing"

"Paved the way for Asian American actresses AND TOTAL HOTTIE!!! She broke boundaries and made it her mission to smash stereotypes of Asian women in western film (at the time, they were either protrayed them as delicate and demure or scheming and evil). In 1951, she made history with her television show The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong, the first-ever U.S. television show starring an Asian-American series lead (paraphrased from Wikipedia). Also, never married and rumor has it that she had an affair with Marlene Dietrich. We love a Controversial Queen!"

"She's got that Silent Era smoulder™ that I think transcends the very stereotypical roles in which she was typically cast. Also looks very hot smouldering opposite Marlene Dietrich in "Shanghai Express"; there's kiss energy there."

"Hot as hell and chronically overlooked in her time, she's truly phenomenal and absolutely stunning"

"A story of stardom unavoidably marred by Hollywood racism; Wong's early-career hype was significantly derailed by the higher-up's reluctance to have an Asian lead, and things only got worse when the Hayes code came down and she suddenly *couldn't* be shown kissing a white man--even if that white man was in yellowface. After being shoved into the Dragon Lady role one too many times, she took her career to other continents for many years. Still, she came back to America eventually, being more selective in her roles, speaking out against Asian stereotypes, and in the midst of all of this finding the time to be awarded both the title of "World's Best Dressed Woman" by Mayfair Mannequin Society of New York and an honorary doctorate by Peking University."

"Incredible beauty, incredible actress, incredible story."

"-flapper fashion ICON. look up her fits please <3 -rumors of lesbianism due to her Close Friendships with marlene dietrich & cecil cunningham, among others -leveraged her star power to criticize the racist depictions of Chinese and Asian characters in Hollywood, as well as raise money and popular support for China & Chinese refugees in the 1930s and 40s. -face card REFUSED to decline"