#Maison Common
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willow-pond-gemstones · 7 months ago
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Maison Common - Fall 2024
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michalicohen · 7 months ago
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sentierscolores · 7 months ago
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mieczyhale · 4 months ago
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noticed as i was leaving work on friday that the sign in our parking lot had been updated since the week before
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ouchiis · 2 years ago
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given it's ten days until ouye's birthday . . .
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⇢   ❛⠀✦    AS MUCH  of  a  bookworm  as  he  is  ,  i  don't  believe  that  books  are  necessarily  a  good  gift  for  him.  given  he's  hogged  books  for  over  a  century  ,  he  mainly  knows  everything  he  likes  ,  and  finding  him  a  book  he  hasn't  read  is  a  bit  of  a  challenge  (  unless  if  it  was  published  within  ,  like  ,  the  past  five  years  ).  things  like  dried  herbs  are  also  relatively  useless  ,  given  he  grows  his  own.  definitely  do  not  give  him  cooking  utensils  or  try  to  give  him  cookbooks  -  he  cannot  cook  for  the  life  of  him  no  matter  how  hard  he  tries  ,  and  he'll  likely  take  it  as  an  insult  to  his  (  lackluster  )  cooking  skills.  things  like  training  weights  or  workout  equipment  is  also  out  of  the  equation  -  if  he's  going  to  spend  an  eternity  on  this  miserable  earth  ,  he's  not  gonna  spend  it  working  out  ,  thank  you  very  much. while  he  does  like  beauty  products  ,  he  dislikes  anything  strongly  scented  like  the  ocean  or  lavender  ,  so  those  are  to  be  avoided. ⇢   ❛⠀☾    THE WORST  gift  options  out  of  the  way  ,  despite  being  a  pacifist  ,  OUYE  absolutely  adores  collecting  antique  hunting  daggers  and  knives  ,  especially  silver  ones.  a  great  fail  safe  for  when  you  don't  know  what  to  give  him  is  pillows  and  blankets  -  his  bed  as  is  is  so  covered  in  pillows  he  practically  can't  even  lay  on  it  ,  but  he'll  graciously  accept  more.  he's  a  large  fan  of  odd  ,  unusual  trinkets;  even  pretty  silver  bottle  caps  can  make  him  excited  ,  especially  if  they  have  sentimental  value.  candles  and  self  -  care  items  like  soaps  ,  bath  bombs  ,  and  lotions  are  also  something  he  adores  ,  especially  if  they  smell  like  some  sort  of  fruit  or  baked  good  (  especially  anything  raspberry  or  vanilla  scented  ).  some  other  ideas  include  tea  leaves  ,  gemstones  ,  alcohol  ,  porcelain  dolls  /  haunted  objects  in  general  ,  origami  paper  ,  a  bouquet  of  flowers  ,  food  ,  pens  ,  notebooks  ,  and  cologne.
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croquis-el · 21 days ago
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I think everyone has already seen that short dossier in the court records about Odoroki (Apollo)
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The entire Internet managed to laugh at the line "I call him Apollo" (Bro, that's literally his name)
I, in turn, will say that this is the result of unsuccessful localization (for now I'm talking about one specific line, don't swear)
In the original version, a slightly different meaning was embedded under this explanation. Namely, that Naruhodo does not "call him", but "gave him a nickname".
Won't you agree? Already a different message.
More below
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ふとしたキッカケで 知り合った新米弁護���。 愛称はオドロキくん。
futoshita kikkake de shiriatta shin kome bengoshi. Aishō wa Odoroki-kun.
A novice lawyer whom I met by chance. His nickname is Odoroki-kun.
愛称(aisho) - A friendly, affectionate name used to address someone. (syn.) nickname.
In Japan, great importance is attached to friendly names, with their help people show their affection (of course, there are also offensive nicknames, but that's not the topic of the post)
Addressing by last name + warm, friendly suffix -kun shows us a respectful and trusting attitude towards the young lawyer
The dossier was probably entered into the MAISON system after Odoroki started working in Hodo's office, so there was confusion with the content (7 years ago, Odoroki was only 15 years old, he could not have been a lawyer, since he was in school)
Of course, this line is difficult to convey in another language with the same emotions and meaning, so everything was lost again
Yes, the Western world is more accustomed to addressing by name in friendly relations, so this line seemed stupid to everyone, but this was influenced not only by the impossibility of correct adaptation
And also by the way other characters address Odoroki
We will not mention episodic characters, but let's focus on those who appear in each case
The judge addresses Odoroki in two ways:
弁護人 (bengonin) - counsel; defender; advocate
At important and serious moments in the trial
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Odoroki-kun - in a situation where the case takes an unexpected turn
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よろしいですね? オドロキくん。
yoroshīdesu ne? Odoroki-kun.
Is that okay? Odoroki-kun.
Minuki Naruhodō (Trucy Wright)
Contrary to all the established impressions that the young magician very quickly begins to address the lawyer informally and behaves very boldly with him, giving him the nickname "Polly", in the original everything is completely different.
Absolutely always, Minuki addresses him exclusively as "Odoroki-san"
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だ。ダメですよ、オドロキさん! ちゃんと、お話を聞かないと!
Damedesuyo, Odoroki-san! Chanto, ohanashi o kikanaito!
No. That's no good, Odoroki-san! You have to listen carefully!
San - さん.
It is the most common Japanese honorific and can be used to address both male and female adults. 
Like mister and misses, san is used when you do not know the person very well or when you want to show respect for someone who is not a close friend.
Minuki treats Odoroki with respect, but at the same time keeps him at a respectful distance. She guards her secrets to the very end and simply could not so quickly trust, essentially, a stranger, even if dad told her about him.
This freedom of adaptation changes Minuki's character and a new character, Trucy, appears (although all players should have approximately the same impression of the characters, after all, we are playing the same game).
She continues to call him the same in AA 5 and 6, probably just to accommodate the age difference (as with other adults)
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あ、オドロキさん! お早い到着ですね。
a, Odoroki-san! O hayai tōchakudesu ne.
Oh, Odoroki-san! You arrived early.
Kyoya Garyuu (Klavier Gavin)
The prosecutor most often uses a unique and friendly nickname - Odeko-kun (Herr Forehead)
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なあに。他に説明がつかないからさ。 そうだろう? おデコくん。
Hoka ni setsumei ga tsukanaikara sa. Sōdarou? Odeko-kun.
What? Because there's no other explanation. Right? Odeko-kun.
But when he's angry, our lawyer suddenly becomes Odoroki Hosuke (as a way to express frustration)
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あ! キサマか、王泥喜法介! ぼくを燃やそうとしたのは!
a! Kisamaka, Odoroki Hōsuke! Boku o moyasou to shita no wa!
Ah! You, Odoroki Hosuke! You were the one who tried to burn me!
Kirihito Garyuu (Kristoph Gavin)
Just Odoroki-kun, nothing out of the ordinary
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Kokone Kizuki (Athena Cykes)
As a junior co-counsel, she addresses him as "Odoroki-senpai"
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あ! オドロキ先輩。
Ah! Odoroki senpai.
Senpai (先輩、せんぱい, "former born") is used to address or refer to one's older or more senior colleagues and students in a school, workplace etc.
By doing this, she shows respect for her senior colleague and respects subordination.
I understand that it is very difficult to adapt the honorifics that are used in the original version, but it was possible to leave Mr. Justice where he rightfully belongs
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pparadiselost · 2 years ago
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la maison.
noel noa x single mother fem reader noa finds himself falling head over heels for the sweet mom next door. warning(s): nsfw, alcohol, dubious consent (drunk sex), single mother reader, named son oc (irrelevant outside of pornmaking plot), creampie, breeding minors do not interact.
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recently, noel noa has developed a bit of a problem. 
he had fallen in love with his next-door-neighbor. which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most unique nor the most world-shattering of issues he could possibly have, but these once trivial feelings he had no time to waste on started taking root in his head, they began to spread like wildfire throughout his daily life.
the pro soccer player was mildly surprised to find out that the young man who had lived next to him in the quaint apartment he called home had moved out while he was playing overseas. noa didn’t think too much of it. he rarely ever grew close with the neighbors around him. he was often out of the house, gone for months to even years at a time playing for whatever country or club summoned him, and when he was home, he preferred spending his time alone rather than getting attached to people who he had nothing in common with.
but the two of you had gotten off on a completely unexpected foot.
“dada!” the squirming toddler in your arms squeals. you nearly drop the bag of groceries you were precariously balancing on your elbow, yelping softly as your son uses all the force he can muster in his tiny body to lurch towards noa. “dada, dada!”
“no, sweetie, that’s not your dad,” you gently remind him, unable to stop the sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. you expertly lean the little boy against your hip while you regain your grip on your groceries, flashing an apologetic smile at noa. “i’m so sorry about that. he has a habit of saying that to every man he sees.”
noa stands practically frozen in his doorframe. he’s seen his fair share of almost blasphemously beautiful women in his life: models, actresses, influencers… but nothing holds a candle to the way his heart thumps in his chest when his eyes land on you. every bit of you screams sweet yet battered to him, your eyes mild and gentle by the tugs of time and your body all covered with loose clothes to make sure your boy could hug right into every little nook and cranny that he pleases. 
a perfect image of motherhood.
his dick throbs in his pants. 
it’s lecherous. he doesn’t even know your name, and he’s getting turned on. hell, you might even be married, yet he’s lusting after you. 
“it’s alright. i know how kids are,” he lies. he actually doesn’t know how kids are, but it’s enough to get you to laugh again. “do you live near here? i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”
“ah! i do.” you lift a hand to point at the door right next to his while your son tugs at your clothes impatiently. he keeps mumbling dada, dada in that gurgling voice of his, looking up at you and then stealing glances at noa. “we moved in fairly recently. i didn’t think we’d have a neighbor, because i thought the next door apartment was empty.”
his heart skips a beat, and noa coughs to clear his throat. “i see. my job requires me to be overseas a lot, so i’m out of the house often. i suppose, that makes us next-door-neighbors then. my name is noel noa. it’s lovely to meet you.”
he half-expects you to gasp and run off upon hearing his name, but instead your smile widens. “it’s lovely to meet you as well. my name is (y/n). this naughty little elf right here is honoré. do you wanna say hi to mr. noa, sweetie?”
you keep cooing at the boy, while noa breathes a sigh of relief. so you don’t recognize him to be a pro player. in some ways he prefers that. he wouldn’t want to scare you away. his mind races when he thinks about how he’s now next door to who he believes is the most fuckable woman on earth. 
“alright, it was a joy meeting you. i’ll see you around then, mr. noa?” you offer. 
‘noel is fine.’ noa nods, mumbling an agreement before you wave and disappear into your suite, leaving him dumbfounded in his doorframe. what was he even leaving the house for? he doesn’t remember anymore.
but god. temptation had fallen straight into his lap, and if the arousal churning deep in his gut told him anything, it was that his life was going to be trouble from now on.
noel noa has also come across a stroke of luck. his manager on the other end of the phone sighs and tells him that the next season has been postponed for a few months, mumbling on about some logistics issues between the professional leagues regarding budgeting and some new stadium being built. noa couldn’t care less: his job was to play soccer, and that was final.
the bottom line was clear. he wouldn’t be flying out and disappearing again, and for a few months, he was free to do as he wanted so long as he kept himself in tip-top shape and maintained his usual training.
a guilty part of him celebrates. it means he gets to stay longer with you, right next doors. he’s been running into you more often, and you’re always quick to offer up a small greeting and make small talk with him when time allows. noa tries so, so hard to be a good man and genuinely get to know you as a good neighbor should, rather than to look at you and be driven half-insane by how much he wishes he could drag you to his suite and fuck you on his bed. 
honoré never fails to happily scream out “dada!” at noa when he sees the man, and you always correct your son with a stern voice. part of noa wants you to stop correcting him, his inner lust-demon celebrating slightly at the fact that your son is ready to accept him as his father. noa had been hesitant on full-on courting you, or at least, what he considered courting (lavinho never failed to make fun of him for having “the flirtation skills of a 13th century monk!”), having assumed that you had a husband.
but he notices the lack of a wedding band around your ring finger. could it be that you didn’t have a husband, after all?
not that it matters. noa knows he shouldn’t let himself daydream. he barely knows you, and the very least he can do is show you a modicum of respect rather than treating you like some hunk of hot meat on the dating market. 
it’s dark outside when noa sits down in his bed, unwinding by himself after a long day of analyzing previous games and practicing by himself out in one of the nearby training fields. he hasn’t seen you all day, but he knows you’re home because he stole a peek at your apartment window while heading in. the lights are on, and presumably, you’re inside. it isn’t safe for a woman and a little child to be out and about when it’s dark, and noa wonders if he should offer to escort you if you ever need to go out. 
no. he shouldn’t overstep. he really shouldn’t.
but what really throws him for a loop is what he hears through the thin apartment walls. at first he thought it was his phone, having auto-started a video, but nothing in his house could be capable of making that noise. noa sits still on his bed and cranes his ears, and then realization settles like cold snow on his body.
you’re singing. your voice is hushed, loving, and every now and then, noa makes out the whiny cries of a little boy.
he pauses. 
dear lord. are you singing your son to sleep?
noa grits his teeth and stifles a groan when a rush of blood floods his groin, and his pants immediately start tightening up. he’s used up all of his self-restraint to not feel this way around you, yet the thought of you, in such domestic bliss with your toddler, turns him ridiculously on. his cock fucking hurts from how hard it is, pressing up angrily against his pants and demanding that he do something about it. his stomach throbs and swirls with need, with the desire to fuck something until he’s satisfied.
his hand absentmindedly wanders to the waistband of his pants, and he guides his dick so that it springs free from its restrictive confines. noa doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before in his life—his cock slaps up against his stomach, and the irritated tip is already drooling greedily. noa hisses quietly when the cold air rushes against his swollen organ, and he carefully wraps his hand around his dick.
you continue your singing.
noa wonders how you must look. he wonders if your sweet hair is damp from a shower, or if you’re getting ready to step into the bath once you put your son to sleep. he wishes he could bury his face in your hair and lewdly inhale, and he begins to slowly stroke his cock at the thought of your features.
maybe you’d hold your son to your chest. blood swells south at the thought of your breasts. the sloping curve that you always hid behind conservative clothes. noa isn’t sure if he wants to sweetly coax you out of them, getting you to shyly bare yourself for him, or if he wants to rip them off of you like an animal and savor the way you squeal and try to cover yourself up.
he wants to grope your tits. your gorgeous tits, made to hold a little boy close to your heart, once filled with milk to feed your son, all swollen and easily filling up his cupped hands. noa barely holds back a moan as he fists himself while daydreaming about your breasts. 
he’d ghost his fingertips over your puffy nipples. he’d hear you cry out, sobbing out a “i-i’m sensitive there, noel-” while he teases them. he’d tug on them too, after a while, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while he has his way with your body. he’d keep on circling his fingers all over your supple breasts, the dainty signs of motherhood filling out and fueling his own libido.
his cock twitches in his fist. he’s leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. just the mental image of your fat tits has him acting this way, and noa doesn’t know what to do with himself. his balls tighten and contract, and your singsongy filling his ears overwhelms with lust.
he wants to fuck you. he wants to fuck you so bad. his length is fuming at him for not being buried into your delicate body. noa wants to fuck into you anywhere he can get. 
your smaller hands, struggling to fully wrap your fingers around his thick cock. or your mouth, that canary-like voice of yours being put to good use by choking and slobbering all over him. or even your tits that he had been drooling over, slapping his cockhead over your sensitive nipples until you’re squirming and scrunching your face up the way he likes it. your plush thighs wouldn’t be too bad too, hearing your breath hitch and hike up an octave whenever his tip catches on your throbbing clit.
‘fuck- fucking hell, fuck, fuck…!’ he grits his teeth as his hands speed up, fucking against his cock as if he were a bull in heat. he hasn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about your gummy pussy yet, and he’s already this close. 
he’s too preoccupied taking his time fucking you with his eyes in his mind, stroking fervently to the sound of your muffled voice. he wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad, he wants to take all of his pent-up frustration and make it real and tangible that you’re the one who drove him to this ridiculous state.
he swears he’s going to fuck you. he swears he’s going to fuck his cock into you until your body bends and breaks to him, until you turn into a fucked-out shell of the sweetheart that lives next door. he’s going to get you fucking hooked on his cock so that you’re drooling and chasing after sex with as much as he’s going crazy for you. 
horribly wet shlick-shlick noises echo around his bedroom as he thrusts himself all over his hand. his stomach twists violently, and his heavy balls contract painfully before noa cums all over himself.
‘shit. shit…!’
he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, forcing down any noises out of fear that you might hear. the rush almost breaks him. ropes of heady cum splash all over his chest and abs, instantly drenching and burning into his skin. he strokes himself through his orgasm, the coils in his gut twisting against themselves, unfurling in and out as pure pleasure streaks through his body. god, this was so wrong of him to do, but noa would be fucking damned if he said he ever came this hard before.
his cock hangs from the pricks of overstimulation as he continues to stroke himself, coaxing out every second of his orgasm as he possibly could. shame immediately floods his body like ice water when his foggy mind clears bit-by-bit, yet he can’t bring himself to jump to his feet and start cleaning up.
noa sits defeatedly in his bed. his chest heaves as he catches his breath, wishing his cum was streaked all over you rather than his own body, and he swallows thickly. he feels horrendously guilty, yet in a twist of ironic fate, your voice keeps trickling through the thin walls.
noa doesn’t even have time to fully let the guilt hit before his dick is swelling up in his fist again. 
‘one more round. just one more round,’ he bargains with himself, ‘just until you stop singing lullabies to your son.’
“i’m so sorry, noel,” you laugh awkwardly. “i really hope i’m not bothering you.”
“it’s no problem at all, really. this is what neighbors are for.”
you stand a few paces in front of him, and the exhausted smile on your face makes noa’s heart speed up dangerously. honoré is fast asleep on your back, strapped to you with a baby harness. in noa’s hands is a stubborn jar of sauce, which, according to you, absolutely refused to open no matter what you did or how hard you had tried to wrench the lid open.
noa firmly grips the lid, and with a small grunt, he easily pops the jar lid open. your eyes widen in awe as he flexes his muscles subtly, a few of the veins in his toned arms becoming visible. he notices you staring at him, and he gently screws the lid back on before handing it back to you.
“thank you so much!” you beam. “it stressed me out so much that i couldn’t get it open. silly of me to think that when i have you right here. classic case of mom brain.”
noa thinks he’s going to stop breathing. you’re beaming at him in such a lighthearted manner, and your words bring his brain to full halt for a split second. he manages a lukewarm smile, and he’s getting ready to wave you off and let you scurry back into your apartment complex before you pause.
“you know… if you aren’t that busy tonight, would you like to come over for dinner? i’m in the middle of cooking right now—well, duh—and i feel like it wouldn’t hurt to make friends with the person living right next door,” you offer up innocently. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i completely get it-”
“-i’d love to. when would you like me over?” noa doesn’t even need to consider his options. “should i dress up?”
“dress up?” you gasp. “you don’t need to do anything fancy like that! it’ll just be a nice home cooked meal, maybe a little wine, just as a sign of goodwill. i’ll still need about… let’s say an hour? that way i can clean up a little too… the petit rascal here has a knack for getting into everything.”
“an hour sounds good to me. thank you for the invitation. i’ll look forward to it,” he responds plainly. his thoughts are going a million miles per hour. 
dinner. at your place. with you. just you and him. 
lady luck must be on his side. not even playing in the world cup could compare to the amount of anxiety and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. you flash him a thumbs-up, unaware of the wrench you had thrown into his nearly nonexistent courtship plans. he stands a bit dumbfounded in the doorframe (not too dissimilar when he first met you) when you scoot back into your place, most likely jumping straight back to work in order to prep food and spruce up your home to take him as a guest.
an hour. noa decides that it’s enough time for him to groom himself a bit too. jump in the shower, douse himself with a nice perfume, pick out a casual yet still suave outfit. if time allows, he’d even run down to a nearby store to buy a bouquet of flowers. a nice little thank you present for the meal, but undoubtedly enough of an ambiguous gift to give it a slight romantic tinge.
noa was going to milk this opportunity. you had thrown him the perfect chance, and noa knew that once he fixated on something, he would see it through.
to his success, all things willing.
everything about your house suited you. your apartment complex wasn’t decorated too lavishly, yet it wasn’t barebones either. noa smiles when he sees all the pictures of your son you have framed against the walls, and your shelves are stuffed with picture books and other memorabilia of the toddler.
you had expertly put honoré to bed before noa had came around, and when he knocked on your door an hour later, you had buried your face in your hands and laughed like a schoolgirl that had been confessed to when he presented you with a bouquet of beautifully prepared calla lilies.
“you shouldn’t have!” you had smacked his arm playfully, but noa felt his chest swell with pride when you rifled through your closet to find a makeshift vase to place the flowers in. 
dinner had been delightful. noa had eagerly wolfed down whatever food you served him, and you were more than happy to prattle on to him about how honoré had recently developed an affinity for blueberries and that you were debating between buying him legos or a toy truck.
of course, the wine flowed generously throughout too. you had admitted that you had saved the red wine for a long time, never having a reason to drink it since your hands were full with a baby and not really wanting to crack a whole bottle open just for yourself. noa could tell you were enjoying the drink, swirling the wine glass around rhythmically as the drink slowly stained your plump lips a deep shade of maroon.
how lovely. noa wondered if it would smear if he were to kiss you.
letting you chatter on without stopping you let him extrapolate a lot that he wouldn’t have known otherwise. it didn’t take too many sips to get you a little tipsy, and with a few questions to ease you up, you were practically an open book.
you had gotten pregnant with your son a few years back, and when you approached honoré’s dad with the news, the sleazebag had completely vanished from your life. as awful as it sounds, noa celebrates inwardly when he hears that you’re single. you admitted that you were lucky enough to have good friends and a somewhat stable support system who took care of you through your pregnancy, and you had honoré without too many complications. but one thing led to another, and you ended up moving here.
“i work remotely,” you murmur, stealing another mouthful of red wine. “it’s… not much, but it’s enough to provide for me and my little boy. i get to pamper him a fair amount, and working from home means that i don’t need to worry about a babysitter! it won’t be too long until i can send him to school, and at that point, i can probably look for a better paying job that i can commute to.”
“i see. if i’m ever around, i wouldn’t mind looking after honoré. you already have a lot on your plate, and if there’s anything i can do to ease the load…,” noa trails off. you sigh dreamily, shaking your head.
“oh, i couldn’t ask you to do that. but i really appreciate the offer.” you glance towards the nursery. “honoré has taken a liking to you though. he gets so excited whenever he sees you!”
the tension between you two is electric. noa feels like his heart is about to give out on him, and if the tension mounting in his stomach tells him anything, it’s that he should be thankful for having the foresight to wear loose pants. your house smells like you: sweet, light, a perfect aphrodisiac for the starved man.
this is the closest he’s ever been to you, the longest he’s ever talked to you. you keep batting your eyelashes at him, looking up at him with such pretty, tipsy eyes. maybe it’s the alcohol talking for the both of you, but noa finds it hard to even swallow. he sips tentatively at his own wine glass. his mouth keeps drying up, and he’s thankful that you’re so good at filling up his silence with your own little chit chat. 
“if you don’t mind me…,” you start. you peek at him, and he stares back at you with his sharp golden eyes. “what do you do for a living, noel?”
“me…?” panic stabs at him for a moment. 
should he be honest with you? you didn’t recognize his name when he introduced himself, so it was clear that you had no idea that the man right next to you was quite literally the world’s best striker. would that change the way you viewed him? would you be scared? repulsed? would you talk to him again if you knew?
“sorry-,” you’re quick to apologize. “that was too much of me. you really don’t have to answer me. that was entirely my bad.”
“no, i don’t mind.” he owes you that much. you had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards him, and all he did in return was go insane with desire. the very least he could do was come clean about who he truly was.
he shifts in his seat, and noa braces himself for the worst. “i’m a professional soccer player.”
you blink at him. “r-really? wait, that’s kinda cool! do you play for a local league or something?”
“i play as a striker for bastard munchen. it’s a german team. they’re one of europe’s most prestigious leagues, and they’ve sent players to the world cup.” his grip on his wineglass tightens just a tad bit. “i’ve played in the world cup.”
your jaw drops. “oh my god. you’re not joking with me, are you?”
he risks meeting your eyes. “do i look like the kind of man to joke around?”
you cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look him in the face. “oh my god… ohhhh my god…! i’m so sorry! i’ve been referring to you so casually, and- and-”
he raises a hand, and he shushes you. “what are you apologizing for? you’ve done nothing wrong. you’ve always treated me kindly. i don’t see why knowing my job would change anything between us. we’re still neighbors. and at this point, we’re friends as well, I'd hope.”
he sees you swallow back a sigh, and you take a deep breath and nod. “right. yes. this doesn’t change anything… it’s still a lot to just- to just take in, you know?”
“you take the time you need. and if interacting with me becomes too much, then i understand. the last thing i’d like to do is make you uncomfortable.” his heart wrenches painfully inside of his chest at the thought of no longer being able to talk to you. but you’d find out sooner or later, and if his cover was going to be blown, noa would prefer doing it on his own terms. 
“can i ask you another question then?” you ask with your mousy voice.
“go ahead.” 
“why do you live here then?” you hiccup. “shouldn’t a super talented soccer player like you live in a big mansion?”
“i could. but i don’t particularly want to.” noa notices that you’re working up the courage to look him in the face again. his stomach twists once more, the sight of your pretty face all conflicted throwing his brain into turmoil again. he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the same plane of reality that you were on. “i’ve never been interested in a flashy life. i prefer living quietly and doing as i’m told.”
“that does sound like you,” you hum in agreement. “well, as surprising as it is, i’m glad to have someone like you for my neighbor. and i promise i’m not saying it just because i know that you’re a professional athlete now!”
you giggle brightly, your lips curving to match the rim of your wine glass. you down the remaining liquid, giving a soft smack of your mouth to fully savor the notes. noa clenches his jaw visibly, and his nails threaten to break the thick skin of his palms.
you’re tempting him. you’re driving him insane. your lips are dyed and pretty, and noa has been staring at them all evening. his throat feels dry and heavy, and he forces the arousal pooling in his crotch to calm down.
he can’t be like this right in front of you. it was one thing to act like an immoral, debauched man in private, but it was another to be unable to control himself in front of you. he was better than this. he knew he was.
but the heart wants what it wants. and there was nothing more that noa wanted than to force you to your knees, to whip his hardening cock out of his pants and smack your slutty wine-stained lips with the tip. he’d force you to open up and stretch that cute mouth of yours around his girth, watch you struggle to take him into your mouth and whimper all over his cock. knowing you, you’d beg him to be gentle with you, to be quiet so that you wouldn’t wake up the slumbering angel in the next room over, and noa would have to fight every animalistic instinct in him to not fuck you until you’d be wailing the house down.
“is everything alright, noel?” you break him out of your thoughts. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he faces you. he can’t stop the heat from flooding his face, but he’s quick to decide that he’d simply blame it on the alcohol.
he couldn’t keep doing this forever. something or other would give, and the last thing noa would want would be to do some unforgivable or stupid. it was torture, to have his body say one thing and his mind another, especially when you were quite literally within arm’s reach.
“i’m alright. you don’t need to worry about me. i can take care of myself,” he promises. you lean in closer, enough so that noa can feel your warm breath trickling across his neck. his heart threatens to stop, and he looks at you with hesitant eyes. 
“are you sure?” your hand lands on his thigh, squeezing him gently.
oh. so that’s how things were going to be. what a goddamn minx you were, doing something like this with such disgustingly innocent intent. 
“yes. i’m fine,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “would you mind passing me the wine bottle? i’ll pour us another glass, if you don’t mind…”
your mouth tastes delicious, like fresh wine and everything he had wanted to do to you since forever. your face is flushed, and your eyes are hazy, barely meeting his as you struggle to keep up with him through your drunken state.
“n-noel-!” you squeak out. his heavy body weighs you down, keeping you trapped between him and your squeaky bed. things are a blur, even for him. 
one moment he’s pouring you more wine, and the next, the two of you are stumbling into your room, where he tosses you down onto the mattress like you’re a ragdoll.
“tell me you want it.” he rolls his clothed hips into yours, and you recoil into the bed with a choked whine. the sound goes straight to his dick. god, how long had he wanted to hear that? to hear the woman he had coveted for so long moaning underneath him?
you shake against his larger form. “w-want it- i want it, noel-“
“you want me to fuck you? you want your next-door-neighbor to fuck you?” he whispers. you shut your eyes as he kisses up your neck, his hands gripping your waist as his lips capture your earlobe. he sucks, his tongue lapping at your soft skin.
his imagination has nothing on how you actually feel in his hands. even through your clothes, he has no issues palming at your figure. you breathe out his name as his palms feel your curves, his fingertips dancing with the hem of your clothes.
you nod wantonly, not once fighting off his advances. “yes! yes, i want it- want you to fuck me- want my next-door-neighbor to have sex with me!”
“good girl,” he exhales. your breathing shallows as he coaxes your shirt over your chest and head, and you shudder as his eyes land all over your stomach and breasts.
your bra struggles to hold onto your chest, your full breasts pooling over the edge. you yelp when he yanks at your bra, snapping it off of you and letting your chest tumble out fully in front of him.
you instinctively try to cover yourself up with your arms, and noa grabs your wrists and wrenches them off of your chest. you mewl when the air nips at your nipples, causing them to perk up slightly.
“don’t you dare think about hiding yourself from me,” noa whispers. “you have no way of getting yourself out of this.”
you rub your thighs together, your cunt throbbing. when was the last time you had done this? you hadn’t had sex in years, not when you had your hands full with a baby and keeping yourself afloat. you were a mom, for fuck’s sake, with a whole baby to watch out for, yet here you were, pinned down underneath noel noa while he grinded his boner into your thighs.
his hands latch onto your chest, and his palms grope at your fat tits slowly. you moan out breathlessly when his calloused palms tease at your nipples, sending a jolt of arousal into your stomach. a wet patch forms in your panties, horribly turned on just from having your boobs squeezed a few times.
“god, you have no clue what your body does to me,” noa rasps. “do you have any idea how much i’ve dreamt about this? how much i wanted to touch those slutty tits of yours? look at you—your body was practically made to be fucked.”
your core twists painfully, and his fingertips pinch tentatively at your nipples.
“ah-! ahhh- noel-,” you buck your hips unconsciously, arching your back as he tugs at your chest. it stings, but it feels so good. even with the wine muddying your thoughts, your body responds to every little bit of attention noel showers onto you. you didn’t know you had it in you to be this lewd or to be this responsive. 
you want more. it had been far too long since anyone showed you any love like this.
he slaps your tits before bringing his hands down to your pants, expertly undoing the zipper and hooking his fingers around the waistline. you let him wiggle your clothes over your hips and legs, leaving you almost entirely naked save for your drenched panties. it feels so terribly lewd, to lay there all bare for a man, even if you two haven’t technically done anything.
his hands squeeze possessively at your thighs. “i wanted to fuck you ever since the first time i saw you. ever since you told me your name, since your son started calling me dad. that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? if i became his dad?”
your chest tightens, and you bite back another lewd moan. noa ducks his head down and nips at your thighs with his teeth, and you flinch into his chest. 
“you said it yourself. your little boy loves me,” noa murmurs. his tongue laps over his teeth marks, and you suck in a breath. your pussy twitches, clenching around nothing. your body wants more, wants to feel more noa more, wants him to take over your body and make you his. “nothing would make him happier than his beloved mommy to have a dad by her side.”
his mouth heads upwards, and he uses his strong hands to pry your shaking legs apart. you whimper, already feeling so exposed to the bigger man despite still having your panties on. he leans back, but his fingers ghost over your crotch. two fingers press up right against your pussy, and he rubs them up and down your covered slit. 
his fingertips are damp. you’re obscenely wet, and watching you struggle to control yourself has noa’s cock straining for its life in his pants.
“or even better,” noa grabs at the waistband of your panties, “daddy fucks mommy pregnant and gives him a younger sibling that he can dote on.”
you throw your head back against your pillow. your mind spins with arousal and alcohol, and noa slips your panties off without any resistance. a strand of slick sticks to the crotch of your underwear, and noa’s finally rewarded with the sight of your bare pussy. he can see your hole fluttering and twitching on itself, desperate to be stuffed and stretched out with something.
god. your body is so attractive to him. he’s never wanted to fuck someone more in his life. with your full hips and soft stomach, motherhood has mellowed out and accentuated you into a woman noa just couldn’t resist.
he thinks he’s going to stop breathing. 
“d-don’t look too hard-,” you stammer out. your body heats up and flushed at how intently noa’s staring at your defenseless cunt, knowing that your body’s begging to be penetrated and fucked.
“i’ll be so good to you,” noa vows. you’re frozen on the sheets, and noa nearly shreds the clothes off of him. your voice catches in the back of your throat when you see his toned chest and abs, the silhouette of the soccer player resembling more of a greek god than the man you had always known as your neighbor.
he pulls his pants down, and when he shoves his boxers off, you can’t help but gasp “oh!” at how big his cock is. he’s obscenely thick and long, and your pussy is both parts scared and aroused at the sheer size. god—you just know that he would stretch your walls out deliciously. his tip smacks his abs, and prominent veins run all along his length.
“you’re so big…,” you eke out. “it’s been so long since i had sex… i don’t know if it’ll fit.”
“i’ll make it fit.” noa rests his hands on top of your knees. “do you want me to prep you?”
you nod. “yes please…”
he reaches over and grabs your hips, and before you can fully register what’s happening, noa hoists your hips up into the air. you give a loud cry, and the bed creaks underneath you as noa ducks his head. his grip on you is firm, and his fingers press into your hips as he brings your drooling cunt to his mouth.
noa’s tongue circles your throbbing clit. your hands fly up to your pillow, gripping at the plush material. jolts of electricity shoot up your core, and your stomach twists with pleasure. your thighs subconsciously try to shut, but noa curves his hands to keep them spread open.
“nngh…! wait, noel, hold on-,” you sob. you grip your pillow, clamping your teeth shut as noa teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. your hips shake as you grind up into his mouth, each wave of stimulation making your pussy drool and throb for more. “ah- be gentle with me…!”
be gentle with you? dear lord, noa sucking on your clit like a starved man was him being gentle with you. he had jerked himself off countless times fantasizing about having you naked and in his arms like this, and it took everything in him not to break that dripping cunt of yours in half with his dick. his cock twitches and protests when noa ignores his own arousal, too preoccupied in trying to force an orgasm out of you.
you taste so sweet on his tongue. you mewl out his name over and over, and your voice sounds like literal honey to his ears. one of his hands snakes down from your hips, and while noa swirls his tongue around your nub, he circles your pulsing hole with a finger. he could die right there and then, and noa would die a happy man. drowning in your honeyed cunt, losing himself to the tantalizing sensation of pleasuring you like any devoted man would. 
“oh! oh god, noel-” your pussy can’t stop leaking with slick as noa keeps teasing you. he slips a finger in without much resistance, and your walls eagerly latch onto him. noa groans against your cunt when he feels your wall twist and clench around his finger, greedily sucking him in. 
god, noa thinks he’s going to go insane. his cock wants nothing more than to bury itself into your sweet pussy, and feeling you twitch and clamp up on his finger makes his dick grow hungrier. his arousal is almost impossible to ignore, yet noa continues to swallow and lap at your core while he fingers you slowly.
he slides in another finger, thrusting in and out of you carefully. you buck your hips, crying out so prettily for him. noa curls his fingers and presses his fingertips all inside your pussy, and he stays vigilant in looking for that sweet spot that would completely unravel you.
“fuck-! fuck, wait- please, i-i can’t-!” you plead. your pussy tightens up around his knuckles dangerously, and noa fucks his fingers up into the spot that made you clench up and mewl so loudly. you’re already moaning and trembling this much just from being fucked on two fingers and having your clit sucked. noa can’t get enough of the way your body twists and reacts to everything he gives you. 
a third finger prods at your hole, as if to ask if you’re ready. you inhale shakily as noa pushes another knuckle into you. 
“fuck…!” you’re immediately clenching up, and your pussy’s walls are rubbing all against his fingers greedily. you’re nearly in tears, just from being fingered, and noa fights his desire to break you. “it feels so good- you feel so good, noel…!”
he thrusts his fingers into you, and you reel visibly. he can tell from the way your pussy has been twitching and gushing all around him that you’re close, stretched to your limit just from three fingers. he doubles down on flicking his tongue all over your clit: letting you grind your hips down greedily against the broad of his tongue. your body shakes, and you can’t stop sobbing. 
you’re almost there. you both know you’re almost there. noa focuses himself on pleasuring you fully, and he roughly fucks his fingers into you and curls his knuckles into your g-spot without any mercy.
“noel-!”
your cunt squeezes his fingers for dear life, and noa latches himself onto your clit as you nearly wrench yourself out of his grasp. heat shreds your body, and the tightening in your stomach snaps violently as you cum shamelessly all over noa’s hands and mouth. you cry out his name loudly again, your normally gentle voice sounding so lewd and desperate as your slick gushes all over his chin and palm.
“fuck…! cumming- i’m cumming, noel…!” your body twists in his hands, and noa continues to stimulate your cunt until you’re babbling incoherent noises. he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, feeling your pussy try to cling to his knuckles before he lets you down properly onto the bed again. you’re struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes all hazy and drunken as you suck in shaky breaths.
noa has no issue swallowing down your cum. he sucks your juices off of his fingers, cleaning up his mouth and chin before he scoots closer to you. you let out such a pathetic moan when he spreads your legs out again, your body too pliant and weak to offer any resistance. the sight of your obviously overstimulated and squirt-slicked cunt makes some sick monster in him swell with pride.
he did that. he made you cum.
he grips his long-ignored and fully engorged cock, and he smacks it against your cunt lightly. you flinch, your hole flaring up as he rubs his dick up and down your slick pussy lips. 
“are you doing alright?” noa asks. his hands grab your hips, and your heart flutters as he rubs soothing circles into your skin. you nod weakly.
“yeah- i can do it,” you promise. you glance up at him with such pretty fluttering eyes, remnants of tears clinging to your lashes as you swallow. “i want you in me… i want your cock in me, please…”
“alright. deep breath. relax for me,” he commands. you nod again, and you shakily inhale and try to loosen your muscles up. 
it immediately burns when he slides into you. you grit your teeth, trying your hardest to keep your pussy relaxed as his thick cock invades your pussy and stretches your walls out to its limits. noa grips your hips tightly, and he groans lowly when he feels you clamping up around his dick.
“fucking hell-,” he breathes out. “you’re so fucking tight-”
“t-too big-” hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “oh god, you’re going to break me!”
your pussy sucks him in and rubs all around his cock in a way that makes noa see stars. you’re so soft and tight, clinging and drooling all over his dick while his girth stretches and flexes your walls out. he keeps pushing past the resistance until he bottoms out, his balls resting heavy on top of your ass. you choke and gasp as he pushes your hips back even further, and he hovers over you, keeping you trapped underneath his thick legs.
a mating press. 
“listen to me now,” he says. “i’m going to fuck you pregnant. i’m gonna fuck this pussy of yours till you’re pregnant again, and i’m going to give that little boy of yours a sibling of his own. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? have a baby of our own and form a perfect family…”
your pussy squeezes involuntarily, and even without you saying anything, he knows you’re turned on at the thought of being bred by him. a loud moan bubbles up in your chest as he slides his monstrous cock out of you before roughly slamming his hips down, forcing his entire length back into your tight cunt.
you barely choke back a scream. his cock has filled out every single bit of your hole, leaving you no room to comfortably take him. you swear that his tip prods dangerously at your womb, threatening to force it open so that he can dump as much of his cum into you as he wants.
oh god, you’re fucked. you’re having raw sex with your hot neighbor, and he’s talking about fucking his own child into you.
“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “can’t believe you had a whole baby with this pussy with how goddamn tight you are-”
you shudder as he thrusts in and out of you. every time he pistons his hips, he doesn’t waste a single movement. none of his thrusts are shallow; each one pumps deep and directly into your womb, clearly with the sole intent of getting you pregnant.
“haven’t had sex with anyone since- since i got pregnant with honoré,” you manage out. “fuck, fuck- you’re going too deep!”
irritation irks him in at the thought of some bastard getting to fuck you first, at the thought of another man getting to fuck that slutty pussy of yours. what kind of madman would even dream of letting you go, let alone throw you out so cruelly into the world? if he could, noa would keep you at home and lavish you with all the attention and love you could ever want. he’d pamper you, treat you like the goddess you are, make sure you know your worth and more. he can imagine it: buying you pretty clothes, taking you out to expensive dinners, spoiling honoré until the boy’s world is flipped upside down by his indulgent stepfather. 
but when noa glances down to see you all spread out and submissive for him, your hole eagerly taking his cock and getting ready to be stuffed with his cum, he can’t help but gloat slightly. he’s the one who has you now, the one who’s going to properly sweep you off your feet, the one who’s going to make you his.
“don’t lose yourself just yet. i know you can take it.” he fucks his dick into you once more, and you moan, unable to stop the arousal coiling up in your core. he wants to make sure you feel it, makes sure you feel every inch and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides. he doesn’t know when the last time you had dick was, and neither does he particularly care, but he wants your body to know that his dick is the best you’ll ever have. “get used to how it feels. i’m going to make you my wife—gonna give you a family of our own. that’d be nice, yeah? to have someone that can support you? so you’re not all alone with just your son?”
you can’t help but nod, your pussy quivering at the thought. you know you’re not thinking straight, not when wine stains your thoughts and your body’s overrun with lust. but for some reason, thinking about noa wifing you up, taking you to be his cute little housewife while he fucks his kids into you, chasing after honoré and whatever other babies he’s going to put in you, finally having someone kind and reliable to depend on… 
you want it. you want it so bad.
your cunt makes it obvious from how much you’re clenching up around him, unconsciously milking his cock.
“you like that? you like the thought of getting married to me and having my babies?” noa eggs on. 
“don’t tease me like that-,” you protest. you can barely keep up with everything happening around you. his cock keeps stretching you out, rubbing all over your slick walls and sending waves of heat up your core. arousal floods your gut, and all you can care about is how good it feels to have sex, to finally let loose and forget about all the worries in the world, to lose yourself to a man who wants nothing more than to be good to you.
“tell me it feels good. tell me you want it.” noa’s fingers dig into your thighs. your clit throbs, and you bring a hand to your crotch to rub at it frantically. you’re sniffling and sobbing pathetically underneath the pro player, already this cock-drunk and overwhelmed just from having cum on his mouth once. 
“want it-,” you obediently repeat. heat floods your face and neck. he’s so possessive, but it turns you on so much. “want you so bad- want you to fuck me-”
“is that all?” his hips pound into you mercilessly, and you groan. his balls slap against your ass every time he fucks his cock into you, a constant reminder that you’re about to be bred by him. 
“it’s embarrassing to say…” you can’t meet his eyes. noa hums disapprovingly, and dread pools in your chest when he draws his hips back all the way, until just the tip remains buried inside your indecent hole. “what are you doing…?”
you instantly turn to look at him, horror flashing across your face when you choke out, “n-noel, hold on, you can’t-!”
he slams himself all the way into you. you shriek, your core immediately burning at the ruthless stretch. his cock prods at your womb brutally, and a mix of pain and unbridled pleasure rips at your body. you’re instantaneously reduced to a crying mess, unable to form words as noa breaks your pussy. you swear you’re going to break into pieces, body left completely to the man’s mercy. he keeps drawing his hips back like that, his cock reveling in the feeling of being completely enveloped by your welcoming hole.
the room echoes with your cries, the desperate ah- ah- ah-! noises from you spurring him on to keep fucking you like a bull in heat. as much as he loves you, cherishes you, wants to keep you by his side, the sex is animalistic and unforgiving. your body feels bruised and battered as he bullies his length into you over and over again, stretching and molding your insides to adjust to his massively unfair size.
“say it!” noa’s voice doesn’t waver even once. “say it properly, or i’m not stopping until you pass out.”
you open and close your mouth dumbly, your mind too fogged up to think properly. you endeavor and push through, pursing your lips to form the words that noa has wanted to hear since the beginning. “w-wanna have sex with you more! wanna be yours- wanna be your wife-! wanna get m-married to you and- and have your babies!”
“yeah?” the blond man repeats. “you want me to be your husband? you want me to be honoré’s stepdaddy? you want me to father the rest of your kids?”
the dirty talk arouses you in a way you didn’t even realize was possible. you throw your head back, your back fully arched. you’re being so loud, too loud, and while you knew you should be quiet and good for your son’s sake, you can’t help but shamelessly beg for the man on top of you to fold you in half and fuck you pregnant until you’re nothing more than a stupid breeding bitch for your evidently soon-to-be husband. 
“yes…!” you moan wantonly. “i want it all!”
he’s dangerously close. so are you, he can feel that much. you babble on and on about how you want him, how you want him to make you his, how you’ll be anything he wants you to be. what a depraved woman, he muses to himself, so desperate for love that you’d throw yourself at him once he gives you an opportunity to. he thinks it's awfully ironic, knowing that he did the same to you, and he’s glad that he has nothing but relatively good intentions.
minus the fact that he wants to get you pregnant.
his cock throbs and threatens to spill his cum into you. you’re teetering on the edge, aroused beyond your own comprehension by the sex and dirty talk, your sticky fingers playing with your abused clit. his hands reach for your tits, groping your sensitive breasts again.
he can’t wait to see you pregnant. your pretty chest, swollen up with milk for his baby, and your hips full and rounded out. your soft belly is stretched out, and you practically glow with warmth. he knows you’d be a good mother—he knows you’re a good mother. you dote on your son with so much love in your heart, and he knows you’d do anything to make sure that your family stays happy and healthy.
his heart swells. 
“fuck-” he pumps his dick in and out of you at such an inhumanly fast pace. your pussy won’t stop coiling all around him, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth and intoxicating him endlessly. noa knows he hasn’t had that much to drink during dinner, but the sensation of fucking into your warm hole makes him feel like he’s had one sip too many. “gonna cum, love- gonna cum inside you and make you my wife…”
“do it-!” you encourage him. your voice is strained and high-pitched, and your thighs ache with the pressure of having him breeding you in such a demanding position. but he’s so deep in you, touching you in places you didn’t even know was possible, and the pleasure makes your mind go blank. “cum in me- please, cum inside me, noel!”
how can he refuse? you’re begging for him, asking him with such doe-like eyes and offering up that tempting body of yours. 
it’s his turn to beg. “stay with me.”
you let out a loud squeal as he draws his heavy hips back one last time. your hole contracts around him, your desperate walls trying to drag him back inside, and he slams down into you as far as he can go. he knows he’s going to be hooked on your pussy, hooked on your body and the way it feels like you were made just to take his cock and get pregnant with his babies, hooked on all the ways he’s craved you with such an insatiable appetite since he’s laid eyes on you. 
he lets himself go. with all the lust in his heart, enough to rival the sheer amount of love he has for his sweet, sweet neighbor.
he’s never cum this hard before. his balls tighten up painfully as he empties himself out inside of your cunt, and you moan out his name when you feel him pulsing inside your core. noa clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth together as the rush of his orgasm possesses him. you’re too much for him: too loving, too ready, too perfect, and noa would rather be damned than let you escape him.
it hurts to thrust into you so quickly, not having fully even finished riding out his climax, but he’s determined to shove as much of his semen into you. he needs you full, needs to know that you’ll be knocked up with his baby, and he uses his cock to force ropes of his hot cum into every inch of your womb.
your core tightens and twitches when you feel him cumming inside of you, all of the tension building up coming to a standstill in that moment. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- noel, i’m- i’m cumming- i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum- noel…!”
your cunt wrings his cock, gripping onto his length furiously. noa has to double down, brace himself for the way your body refuses to let him go, as you cry loudly and cum all over him. your pussy keeps contracting and squeezing, your second orgasm immediately setting your nerves on fire and taking complete control of your senses. he can tell you’re instantly overwhelmed, your breathing turning irregular as you pant out for air, a slick ring of ivory froth forming at the base of his cock.
“s-so good-,” you slur out, your words melting into one another. you shudder when noa pulls out of you, whining in slight protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking your warm pussy. a strand of milky cum follows his dick before breaking, and like a broken dam, a rivulet of semen leaks out of you and drips down. it follows the curve of your ass before beading momentarily on the sheets, creating a pool of cum underneath you.
even noa didn’t realize he came that much. he blames it entirely on his intent to breed you.
he sits down wordlessly by your side, the two of you laying in the darkness in silence as you catch your breaths. noa debates getting up to fetch you some water or a towel, but before he can, you grab at his wrist and coax him back to your side.
“you asked me to stay with you,” you whisper. you sound so hushed, but noa would have to be an idiot not to pick up on the wavering tinges of longing in your words. “don’t go just yet… stay with me.”
he wipes some of the sweat off of your forehead, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear. he ducks his head down to kiss your face, just like how proper lovers would. you smile so brightly, despite your body still aching from the number noa just did to you. you’re an angel sent from heaven, this much noa is sure of. he has never been one to believe that sincerely in abstract concepts like soulmates and fate, but when he cups your face and rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheeks or your eyelids, he gets it. he truly does. 
“don’t worry.” his voice is calming, and despite the fatigue ebbing over you in relentless waves, you can hear him loud and clear. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you’re fast asleep. noa’s aware that he should be asleep too, the clock ticking into the long and lonely stretches of early morning as he keeps you tucked into his chest. a firm arm holds you close to his heart, and your body slots against his like you were made to be held by him.
a missed call notification from his manager rests on his homescreen. he doesn’t want to pick up just yet. he doesn’t want to return to the real world, to his responsibilities, to be away from you.
a text message from his manager pops up, and he scans the preview with his usual eagle-like eyes.
‘sorry for calling you so late, noa. hope you’ve been doing well,’ his manager writes. ‘unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to have the next few months off as well. some material shipments got delayed, and without it, the stadium won’t be completed for a little while longer. your instructions are the same as last time: keep up with your exercise regime and do as your club tells you. other than that, you’re free to do as you want.’
relief floods noa’s weary body. he turns his phone over, blocking off the light before he pulls you to his chest even tighter. burying his nose into your hair, he holds you against his beating heart. thump-thump, your heartbeats syncopate to one another, and noa already knows he’s going to spend his precious time dedicating himself wholly to you and your happiness.
what he doesn’t see is the next text from his manager. not that it matters, noa has everything he could possibly want right now.
‘you sure are one lucky man,’ it reads. ‘make sure to take some time for yourself and relax, away from sports. breaks like these are rare.'
'you know what they say, noa. there really is no place like home.’
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arthistoryanimalia · 5 months ago
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#InsectWeek fashion:
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Elsa Schiaparelli (Italian, 1890–1973) for Maison Schiaparelli (French, founded 1927) Necklace & Suit, Fall 1938 collection necklace: rhodoid (cellulose acetate plastic) & metal; suit: rayon, silk, plastic Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.1234, 2009.300.2374
Necklace: "From the fall 1938 pagan collection, this iconic necklace epitomizes Schiaparelli's Surrealist tendencies, perhaps more than any other design she executed because of the unreal idea of insects crawling on your skin as a fashion statement. Because of the clear Rhodoid, a type of cellulose acetate plastic, the multicolored insects seem to be resting on the wearer's skin. Rhodoid was a newly developed material and Schiaparelli was unafraid of using inventive materials for her designs. She appreciated the avant-garde quality and element of surprise infused into the design by using unconventional materials. The pagan collection was inspired by Botticelli's lush paintings; therefore flowers, woodland creatures, foliage, and insects decorated dinner suits, evening gowns and accessories. The multicolored metal insects were also seen securing a ribbon hatband on a doll hat and resting on the collar of a suit [shown here]. This necklace was worn by Millicent Rogers (who also owned the suit previously mentioned), one of Schiaparelli's best clients who was brave enough to wear her outré designs."
Suit: "Elsa Schiaparelli was influenced by the Surrealist art scene of Paris in the 1930s, and references to that movement frequently materialize in her designs. Artists were using collage, photography and paint as their medium; Schiaparelli was using clothing. Here, in a suit from her fall 1938 Pagan collection, she incorporates three elements that have become hallmarks of her career-- interesting fabric, Surrealist elements and unconventional buttons. Schiaparelli scoured fabric houses to find fabrics that perfectly translated her artistic ideas. The crepe used for this jacket and dress is highly textured, adding a rough dimension to the overall design. The Surrealist elements here, the plastic bug ornaments, are shockingly realistic and in juxtaposition to the delicate pink silk of the collar where they rest. As Dilys Blum states in Shocking! The Art and Fashion of Elsa Schiaparelli, many designs from this collection featured earthy decorations inspired by Botticelli's paintings, like flowers, fruits, animals and insects. Buttons were another form of expression for Schiaparelli. In this case, the leaf-shaped buttons represent foliate forms, another common motif seen throughout the Pagan collection. This unusual ensemble would require a certain level of fashion bravado, and the previous owner, Millicent Rogers, definitely possessed that."
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frenchcurious · 16 days ago
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Immeuble « Withuis » (la Maison Blanche), 1927 à Bruxelles, Belgique. Architecte Joseph Diongre (1878-1963). Construit pour le poète-écrivain Jef Mennekens (1932-2013). Rénové en 1991 par le bureau d'architecture TRIO. (Crédit photos EmDee, wikimedia commons ; thespaces com). - source Sally Jo.
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accio-victuuri · 11 months ago
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Tencent All Star Night CPNs. 💛
you know what it is. if there is an event, we take it as an opportunity to clown. i’m mildly salty that this wasn’t a joint event like we all hoped it would be. but we will get it when the time is right. i’m posting this a bit earlier than my usual end of show schedule but that’s too late and i want more people to enjoy the sweets!
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the bjyx taxi in macau invites you in…..
This isn’t actually a CPN but more of a nostalgic thing for cpfs cause WYB was wearing Celine and it’s a brand that he often wore during CQL promotions. Celine never misses when it comes to him & I really wish he becomes their ambassador, if that’s even allowed, since he’s also working with Chanel. and the fact that this comes after GQ MOTY where he wore the hat that reminded us of CQL fan meet too. 🥹
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some cpfs are likening these two shoots and how it was done at night and in the streets. it was pre filmed the night before the event. tho i would imagine that other can do this too, i personally love to see how certain photoshoots of theirs match. in this way, it’s better to edit them together.
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also wyb’s hair!!!!!! <3
he probably loved his look in bazaar and the cap truly made it more street. i feel like wyb loves to blend casual/street style with formal wear. their hair! ahhhhh!!!!! i’m so happy! even if wyb’s is a wig.
speaking of his cap, no one has identified it yet. and i guess that’s because there is no logo to go by. however it looks suspiciously like the same style of what a certain someone wore earlier this month 🤨 don’t mind me.. i just like seeing that they still gravitate towards the same things when it comes to certain personal pieces.
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can we also talk about the matching deep V? these two are honestly making us suffer ( in a good way ) with their fashion choices lately. i hope the bold choices continues on and as long as they could. 🖤
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and oh, WYB’s clothes are from Maison Margiela 👀
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&&& their choice of BGM for their respective videos are from the same album. Lol.
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THIS ONE THO. How an amazing rendition of Wuji was placed at the start of Tencent Video All Star Night. I don’t know what other stuff they played but you would think, they will choose something more recent or from this year. They have had a number of dramas since 2019 that they could have given a spotlight but they chose that. granted, CQL was super popular and something like that is special and hard to replicate. too bad wyb was backstage. Imagine if the 2 of them were in attendance!
and how it was labeled, original singers : xz, wyb. a clip was also flashed.
😭😭😭😭😭
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It even went on HS, the topic is about the opening itself however all the conversation was about is that Wuji was played. They did other songs but it’s so clear based on the hot search which one made an impact. It’s so funny, cause a common gripe against turtles is why can’t we move on from a drama that is years ago. oh well.. the platform couldn’t either lol. and why would we? when it’s so good? when it’s a literal cultural reset. hahahahahahaha!!!!!
it’s nice cause we started the day being nostalgic with wyb’s celine suit and then freakin tencent plays this 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
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-END.
P.S: if something else comes up i will just post separately ✌🏼
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willow-pond-gemstones · 7 months ago
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Maison Common - Fall 2024
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pompadourpink · 2 years ago
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Les temps du passé
Le plus-que-parfait
The pluperfect is made of two words: an auxiliary (être or avoir, depending on whether the action happens to the subject's body or not) conjugated in the imperfect tense and a past participle.
j'étais, tu étais, il était, nous étions, vous étiez, ils étaient
j'avais, tu avais, il avait, nous avions, vous aviez, ils avaient
It is used to talk about the past in the past: j'avais fermé la porte quand tu es rentré - I had locked the door when you came home.
Nous étions parties - we were gone
J'avais fait la vaisselle - I had done the dishes
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L'imparfait
The imperfect, one of the most common past tenses, is made of one word and used to describe the past (former habit, historical detail, description) or a long-term action.
La maison était très grande - the house was very big
Les soldats dormaient peu - the soldiers wouldn't sleep much
J'allais nager tous les dimanches - I used to go swimming each Sunday
La conjugaison
j'allais, tu allais, il allait, nous allions, vous alliez, ils allaient
je finissais, tu finissais, il finissait, nous finissions, vous finissiez, ils finissaient
je pouvais, tu pouvais, il pouvait, nous pouvions, vous pouviez, ils pouvaient
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Le passé composé
The perfect tense is the younger sibling of the pluperfect: it is built the same way but the auxiliary is conjugated in the indicative present instead of the imperfect.
je suis, tu es, il est, nous sommes, vous êtes, ils sont
j'ai, tu as, il a, nous avons, vous avez, ils ont
For compound tenses, been (été) is added in case of a passive voice. It is used to refer to the action, a short-term event that is already done and only happened once.
Ils ont mangé les derniers raisins - they have eaten the last grapes
Je suis partie hier matin - I left yesterday morning
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Le passé simple
The simple past, usually learners' least favourite tense, is the pompous, literary equivalent of the perfect tense. It is built with a single word and the first and second-person plurals get a circumflex accent.
je fus, tu fus, il fut, nous fûmes, vous fûtes, ils furent
j'eus, tu eus, il eut, nous eûmes, vous eûtes, ils eurent
j'allai, tu allas, il alla, nous allâmes, vous allâtes, ils allèrent
je fis, tu fis, il fit, nous fîmes, vous fîtes, ils firent
je pus tu pus, il put, nous pûmes, vous pûtes, ils purent
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Le conditionnel passé
The past conditional is another compound tense: it is built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present conditional and a past participle.
je serais, tu serais, il serait, nous serions, vous seriez, ils seraient
j'aurais, tu aurais, il aurait, nous aurions, vous auriez, ils auraient
It expresses regret or a theory/fantasy.
Je serais venue tôt si tu m'avais prévenue - I would have come early if you had warned me
Il aurait voulu être un artiste - he would have wanted to be an artist
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Le passé antérieur
The perfect past, another compound tense, is built with an auxiliary conjugated in our good friend the simple past and a past participle.
je fus, tu fus, il fut, nous fûmes, vous fûtes, ils furent
j'eus, tu eus, il eut, nous eûmes, vous eûtes, ils eurent
It is only found in old novels and expresses the anteriority of an action compared to the one that follows: it is a posh version of the pluperfect.
Il eut vite choisi un cadeau - he quickly picked a gift
Je fus étonnée de te voir à la fête - I was surprised to see you at the party
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Le passé récent
The recent past is built with the verbal phrase venir de conjugated in the indicative present and followed by an infinitive.
je viens de, tu viens de, il vient de, nous venons de, vous venez de, ils viennent de
It is very common and refers to an action that just happened.
Je viens de finir de manger - I just finished eating
Nous venons de rentrer - we just got home
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L'impératif passé
The past imperative is built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present imperative, an absence of pronoun, and a past participle. It only exists in the second-person singular and first and second-person plurals.
sois, soyons, soyez
aie, ayons, ayez
It expresses the anteriority of an action (order, prohibition, suggestion, plea) compared to the one that follows]
Aie rangé ta chambre avant que je rentre - have your room tidied before I get home
Soyez partis pour neuf heures - be gone by nine
N.B. This is not that common anymore especially for avoir, natives typically will use tu as intérêt à être/avoir--- (you better be/have---) or use another verb to sound more polite: essayez d'être partis pour neuf heures - try to be gone by nine
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L'infinitif passé
The past infinitive is another compound tense built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present infinitive and a past participle.
être
avoir
It expresses the anteriority of an action accomplished before the one that follows and is mostly used in written instructions.
Être levé à l'heure est important - being up on time is important
Avoir garder la cuisine propre est attendu svp - keeping the kitchen clean is expected please
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Le participe passé
The past participle is the second element of compound tenses to express an action that happened in the past.
-s, -se, -s, -ses
-ø, -e, -s, -es
-us, -ute, -us, -utes
It works like an adjective, is often short and contains many irregular verbs.
Elle a fait ses valises - she has packed her suitcase
Ils ont ouvert la porte - they have opened the door
Nous sommes morts - we are dead
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Movie: La Belle et la Bête - Jean Cocteau, 1946
Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive
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aloysiavirgata · 10 months ago
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Have you ever written a historical AU? Would love to see what you would do with that!
“Le professeur n'est pas à la maison!” she calls to whomever is banging at the door.
“S’il te plait je suis perdu,” a man’s voice replies in an accent she can’t place. Not French, certainly.
Dana rises, annoyed, from a table stacked high with books. She’d been lost in Bayes’ recent essay on probability, which her father had bought her.
She makes her way to the door, assumes Marie-Amélie is behind the house with Victor’s hand up her dress again.
Through the window she sees the man claiming to be lost. He’s about her own age, tall, wearing a suit of clothes in the English style. His hair is dark brown, tied at the nape of his neck with a green ribbon.
He looks unhappy and his boots are quite muddy.
Dana grabs the fire poker she keeps next to the door for this purpose. She keeps it tucked in the folds of her dress.
“Good day,” she says in English.
The man startles. “You speak English?”
She grips the poker tighter. “Pray, how can I help you? The professor is not home right now.”
He frowns. “Professor? I’m sorry, I’m not here for any professor. It’s only that I came out to see the country and I’ve…well. I’ve lost my way.”
Dana decides that if she needs to run him through she’d rather it be on her home turf. His clothes, while plain by French standards, are of fine stuff and newly made. His boots are well soled, his breeches have silver buckles.
“Come in,” she says, and lets him pass her. She returns the poker to the wall, then closes the door.
“You’re not English,” he observes, peering around.
“God forbid,” she says, crossing her arms. “Irish.”
He grins at that. “Well, we’ve something in common then. I’m a Massachusetts man. Oh, forgive me. Name’s Fox Mulder.” He pulls a much-abused envelope from his pocket. “Letter of introduction, if you care to peruse.”
She takes the letter but doesn’t open it.
Victor emerges from the kitchen. He has the audacity to look scandalized that she is alone with a strange man even though there is hay dust on his breeches.
“Mademoiselle Dana!” he says.
She shoos Victor back to the kitchen for refreshments. “We’re very informal here, Monsieur Mulder.”
“Just Mulder,” he says.
“Mmm. Where did you say you were staying?”
“I didn’t, but in Florac.”
Dana frowns. “Monsieur, you traveled all the way from Massachusetts to stay in…Florac? And pray, sit.” She gestures at a sofa, sits in the chair opposite.
Mulder, looking grateful, complies.
Marie-Amélie arrives with a tray of cake and wine, curtsies, and scampers back to the kitchen.
Dana scowls after her.
“I’m in Florac only as a base of operations, you could say. I’m here to do some…investigating.” He sips his wine.
She is intrigued despite herself. Bayes can wait a bit longer. “Investigating?”
He tips his chin up a bit, as though preparing for a reaction from her. “The Beast of Gévaudan,” he says.
She stares, then lets out a bark of laughter. “La Bête?” she says. “It’s a wolf!”
“They say it has a breast as wide as a horse, a body as long as a leopard's, and fur that was red with a black stripe. What wolf is that, Mademoiselle?”
She rolls her eyes. “When I was a lass I thought the barn owls were the bean-sídhe keening.”
Mulder delicately pokes at a walnut on his slice of cake. “Wolf or no, people are dying.”
“Aye, now that’s a thing people are good at around here.” She sets her wineglass down. “When you’re finished I’ll have Philippe drive you back to the village.”
“That’s very kind,” he says. He sets his plate down. “I’m ready now.”
“I need to return to my studies,” she tells him, waving over the maid. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Dana leaves her guest with Marie-Amélie. She hears the door open and close, and soon the strange man from Massachusetts is forgotten amid the doctrine of chance.
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mieczyhale · 2 months ago
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I'm so excited for Heartstopper s3
But also so fucking anxious for Heartstopper s3
Because I've read the graphic novels (and the books) and I know what's coming, I know what scenes some of the pictures we've been given are of, I know it all got to me badly on page so like.. it's gonna destroy me on screen. Especially every Charlie, Nick, and Nick & Charlie scene.
As someone that kins Charlie I'm not sure I'm gonna handle it well, lads. Pray for me when the new season comes out, send emotional support vibes, carrier pigeon me glitter and alcohol bc it's gonna be a rough time
But it's gonna be so fucking good
I already know it
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logogreffe · 2 years ago
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Très vs Trop vs Super vs Vraiment in French
Let's set the scene : You're talking to your friend, she shows you her new art piece and you say "C'est très beau !" to say "It's so pretty !". And for a few seconds she looks a bit disappointed.
(This might sound a bit exaggerated but if a friend of mine, a native French speaker*, says "c'est très beau !" to me, I might assume that :
they're saying that ironically because it's such a strange way to say "it's so pretty !".
they think that I'm under the age of 8 and I'm bothering them - "c'est très beau, now go play with the other children")
(If your friend knows you're not French, she'll understand what you mean, don't worry)
So then, what should you say ?
First, let's take a look at "très"
1. Très // Very :
If you are writing a thesis/sending an email to French clients/talking to your boss etc…using "très" to say "very" is the way to go.
BUT we don't actually use it that much orally in the day to day life in exclamative sentences such as "It's very + adj ! "
Note 1 : Surprisingly if you want to say "It's not very + adj ! " you can still use "très".
Exemple n° 1 et 2 : "C'est pas très bon !" // "It's not very tasty !" "C'est pas très pratique ! " // "It's not very practical !"
In text messages or orally, whenever you want to say "It's very + adj !" I would suggest you forget about "très" and use the other expressions I'll mention in this post. Note 2 : You cannot use the word "très" with every adjective ! - La maison est très belle. La maison est très magnifique. - La soupe est très bonne. La soupe est très délicieuse. [This website lists adjectives you can use to avoid saying "très". The adjectives on the left can be used with "très", the ones on the right cannot.]
2. Trop // Too :
"Trop" can be translated as "too" or "too much"
Exemple n°3 : "Mon café est trop sucré". // "My coffee is too sweet"
BUT NOW. If we go back to our great example : Your friend shows you her art piece. A possible answer is :
"C'est trop beau !" (lit. translation :" it's too pretty").
"C'est + trop + adj ! " is a very common way to say "it's very + adj ! ". Note 1 : It's quite informal ! Be careful whom you use it with !, (I was scolded as a child for using it)
Note 2 : This only works with the adjectives mentionned below ! If you use any other adjectives like "hot" for example : "l'eau est trop chaude" will mean that the water is too hot. (I guess you could also think of "trop" in this context as "so") Note 3 : "Trop" can also be used in the following structure : "Subject + [être] + TROP + Adj" - Beau/belle : C'est trop beau ! // It's so pretty ! (C'est trooooop beau ! // It's soooo pretty ! ) Elles sont trop belles ! // They are so pretty ! - Cool : C'est trop cool ! // It's so cool ! Mon chat est trop cool ! // My cat is so cool ! - Chiant : (!!!bad word alert!!!) C'est trop chiant ! // It's so fucking annoying ! Mon frère est trop chiant. // My brother is such a pain in the ass. - Moche : C'est trop moche ! // It's so/very ugly ! Ce tableau est trop moche. // This painting is so/very ugly. - Bien : C'est trop bien ! // it's so great ! Ce film est trop bien ! // This movie is really great ! - Sympa : C'est trop sympa de ta part ! Merci ! // It's so nice of you! Thank you! Mes amies sont trop sympas ! // My friends are so nice !
Note 4 : Saying "c'est cool ", "c'est beau ", "c'est bien", "c'est sympa" sounds quite passive-aggressive in French. ("c'est chiant", on the other hand works perfectly on its own, don't worry) Note 5 : Those are the most common adjectives that you can use with "trop" . I cannot think of any other adjectives but there might be some more ! The use of "Trop" is really common but informal. What should you say if you don't want to say "trop" and don't want to use "très" either ? -> You can use "super" or "vraiment"
3. Super : You might have seen it translated as "Great". When used in the exclamative sentence "Super !" or before a noun , it does indeed mean "great". But if it is used before an adjective, it becomes synonymous with "really" or "very"!
Exemple n°4 : "Il fait super chaud dehors !" // It's really hot outside !
4. Vraiment : "Super" is a bit more formal than "trop" yet if you're talking to the big boss, "vraiment" would be better.
C'est trop beau ! < C'est super beau ! < C'est vraiment beau !
Note 1 : "Vraiment" literally means "truly". Yet, I feel like in some situations we use this one in French the way English speakers use "really".
Exemple n°5 : "C'est vraiment énervant, j'arrive pas à utiliser ce logiciel" // "It's really/truly annoying, I can't figure out how to use this computer program."
Note 2 : While "trop" and "super" are informal, you can use "vraiment" in both formal and informal settings.
Exemple n°6 : "T'es vraiment chiant !" // "You're really/truly a pain in the ass !" (You could also say "t'es trop chiant !" ou "t'es super chiant !")
5. A few more examples and 3 mores words to say "very"
Exemples n°7 et 8 : "Il fait super froid dehors aujourd'hui ! " // "It's really cold outside today !" "38 euros ? Putain, c'est super cher ! " // " 38 euros ? Fuck, that's really exprensive !" Some people also use "méga" "archi" or "giga" to say "very " , (those 3 are informal as well)
Exemples n°9 , 10 et 11
"Il fait méga chaud dehors ! " // "It's really really hot outside !" "J'ai archi faim !" // "I'm really really hungry" "J'ai giga soif !" // "I'm really really really thirsty" You can try this little test I made about this post here ! * from mainland France
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chouchen · 2 years ago
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fontaine leak!!!
I promised myself to not look at fontaine leaks but i got curious but after what i saw i wont look again !
So a new fontaine chara just got fully leak design wise (rip mhy employee) and i like analysing stuff.
Lets go from head to toes, and lets say the era is around 1890-00
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A hat yes !!!!! Very important, hats were a primordial part of fashion, going out without a head ornament was a sign of poverty. Around 1900, big feathers or flowers were common on hats, so i’m guessing the white ribbon (?) is a reference to that.
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1899
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oh boy where we go
Le costume de ville (”city costume”) is the jacket is typical of 1890, where women took on a more “boyish” look. Women started to wear them because they also started to have a more active life, these clothes being more practical.
Le costume de ville is usually made of a single colour cloth, a high collar and made to follow the curves of the body (especially at the waist since this is also the era of wisp corset) which is nicely represent here, with the bottom part of the cape flared.
The blue ribbon could be a potential reference to what deputy in france wear (sometimes) to show that they are, well, deputy...
DO NOT WEAR SHORTS IN 1890 !!!!!
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Jean Béraud, Le trottin
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Maison Félix 1897
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The shoes !!
The white part is what looks like a “fraise”, they are absolutely NOT fashionable in the 1890s lol. They were a bit fashionable at the start of the century during the First Empire, but in the 1890s France was back at being a Republic and i feel like wearing these would be a bad idea ! (also they were only around the neck or eventually on a head ornament but not on ankles !)
The shoes themselves are correct ! They’re escarpins, at the time made in satin with some embroider. 
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Both from the UFAC collection 1900-10
In conclusion, there’s so nice references to the 1890-00 era with obviously the genshin style. Even if her design is nice, i hope she isn’t the archon, she doesn’t strike as an archon to me at all and it would be a GREAT MISS of references in the justice part which contains a lot to material to work with.
Hope you enjoyed that thread and yeah i can’t wait for fontaine !!
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