#chez speaks

[chaezaqueue]

I was tagged by @victoriouscabaret to list ten songs from my playlist. I'll be using my Spotify Likes so it is a vast pool. :)

Here is the link to their post, and thank you for tagging me! <3

1.) Lazarus - Bellarive 2.) We Won't Waltz Together - Piotr Wiese 3.) Rivers - S.J Morgan 4.) If You Can't Hang - Sleeping with Sirens 5.) god save me, but don't drown me out - YUNGBLUD 6.) Breathe, Desperately - From Indian Lakes 7.) Annabelle - Creeper 8.) FREAK (feat. YUNGBLUD) - Demi Lovato, YUNGBLUD 9.) Let's Dance - David Bowie 10.) Sea of Tranquility - Evan Michael Brown

This being said I haven't listened to these songs in forever LMAO.

Once again tagging @covfefeships , @darlington-v , @stargatenovus , @reddest-x , and @sweetlywingedcreation

Y'all let me know if you don't want to be tagged!!!

[chaeza]

ᴍʏ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡɪɴɢ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀɪsʜ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏᴄᴜs ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇʟɪᴅs ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ. Ɪ’ᴍ ғɪɴᴇ, ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ. ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ.

[theimpossiblescheme]

For my twenty-eight birthday today, I fully plan on spending as little of it as possible out of bed. My present to myself is gonna be a cup of tea and a long nap--after the week I've had, I think I deserve it.

[woodsteingirl]

with latin usually my pronunciations are like normal girl ish, i go with anglicized versions sometimes because they have better mouthfeel - but when im saying an italian name i immediately become a tryhard and i do it soo accurately....

[wizzard890]

(@pyrrhiccomedy)​

everyone shut the fuck up and listen. i love decadence, i love filth, i love perversion; i love depravity and deviance and hedonism. i love corruption, i love the obscene. i love debauchery, i love all things sordid, i love the thrill of scandal. i love reveling in being a sicko. it brings me closer to god

[armandsdivorcelawyer]

Speaking of irredeemable media; do any of you want to watch my favorite French movie, Man Bites Dog

[the-proofreader]

I need a tag for when Tank shows up on the Chez Geek Tumblr. Rodimus has "head of HR Rodimus" but "head of production Tank" just doesn't... vibe.

[cometcrystal]

early canderemy makes me so insane. they're both so careful and restrained, but at the same time, neither of them really make it a secret that they've got feelings. there's like. a slight element of fear there. not because they're scared of each other, but because they don't wanna mess it up

candace being too afraid to ask jeremy to the sadie hawkins type dance in out to launch but once they're there she's saying corny shit like "look it's a shooting star just for us :)"

the pure excitement in jeremy's voice when candace agrees to go to chez platypus with him. like he sounds SO happy when he says "awesome!!" as if she would ever say no.

the shots of them trying to call each other in backyard aquarium. both of them wallowing in equal measure when the other doesn't pick up because they're both calling at the exact same time over and over again. the bit where they both lay their phones on their chest and stare at the ceiling kills me every single time

the end of comet kermillian building up to nothing more than just the two of them holding hands and it still feels like a MASSIVE moment because they've both been wanting this simple thing for years

AND SPEAKING OF. candace records the first time she and jeremy spoke as june of 7th grade, but he remembers borrowing a pencil from her and thinking she was pretty way before that. how long have they been pining after each other? like, seven or eight years by the time the show starts? how long has this song and dance been going on? how long did they spend dealing with their nerves and anxiety? how wonderful did it feel when they got rare moments alone with each other? getting randomly paired to work together on an in-class assignment must have felt like christmas morning to them. they're insane

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

!!THIS IS NOT CALEB!!

This is my version of the FTF Grimwalker that got possessed by Belos and then was resurected on GrimIsles!

His name is Cheese! ...Bear with me here-

His grimwalker siblings let him to choose his own name, because they didn't want to force something so important onto him. Especially when this "newcomer" was lucky enough to not be named by Belos. So the freedom of choice felt pretty important to consider for his ability to built his own identity and carve his own destiny.

But.. Cheese was litteraly "born yesterday" and he didnt understand the language yet. At all. So, of course, when he started to learn some words, he chose to identify himself with something he really really likes. And.. this thing he related to happened to be a block of yellow dairy product with holes in it and a funny taste. He is too much of a cheese lover.

Later on he often "changed his name" from Cheese to Onion to Gerald to Boot to Nike... Uhhh..., it was difficult to say the least. But the name Cheese stuck with others, so now it is how he is called. Although many end up pronouncing it as "Chez", which is valid too.

As you can see on my art, Cheese doesn't have his legs rotting like the body in the s3 ep2. Thats because it was part of his "mortal wound". In otherwords, Chez wouldn't be able to live with parts damaged like that. Usually all that left after the person's "mortal wound" after the resurection in the temple is a small light scar. But, even if Cheese got his body fully in tact now, the bottom part of his body nonetheless seems to be paralised. Thats why he requires a wheelchair to move around the Isles. (I wont deny the possibility of him getting a jetpack or something like that so he could move thought the air on his "loyal carriage". Imagine that vine video but with Cheese. He would be very enthusiastic about creating and building shit like that.) Chez also happens to be mute due to his damaged throat and vocal chords also from Belos'es possession. Thats why he has that little oracle stone on his hair-clip that helps him speak his thoughts out loud! He wasn't always able to use it, so he was also taught how to use sign language. His siblings were glad to learn it along with Cheese so they could finally chat.

I was initially imagining Cheese to be enthusiastic about sports. Especially since the grimwalker body in FTF looked quite buff weirdly enough XD. But he slowly grows to be much more than "CHEESE IS SPEED". Perharps our discovery of him as a character reflects his own journey of getting to know himself. Chez came to be as a blank slate. I guess he is technocally the happiest grimwalker in this AU, since he never experience any kind of abuse and has a loving family that treats him with respect even if he doesn't understand everything yet.

It was my first time drawing a wheelchair I think. So I really heavily referenced just to get its structure right. Maybe when I draw Chez again I will decorate it to his liking. He would probably enjoy some stickers on it. Especially of space and ships. Or Cheese could have a Starwars (or however that franchise is called in TOH universe) merch on it! He likes spaces, because it is full of infinite possibilities.

Thank you, @crypticpara and @talisman975 for inspiration!

[crosby-interesting]

There is like an entire google doc of documented instances of misogynistic abuse and crimes

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1cqURgg1eslU9Ky7NOUHlvM0PJ5rVX-FHZuacYBUL77o/htmlview?pli=1#gid=821481613

Most of these are never talked about. People close their eyes and pretend this is nothing

The Doug Gilmour situation is absolutely vile and revolting to me in particular.

Also, it is not on the list, but Gretzky also should be included there, since he loved frequenting strip clubs, which exploit low-income women.

There is also another kind of story. In 1981, when Gretzky was 20, he took a shy 15 year-old French-Canadian kid who didn't speak any English into another city, snuck him into a singles bar, bought him alcohol and later on coerced into having sex with a random woman, while having an intercourse with another one next to him in a hotel room.

This kid went on to engage in hook-ups with strangers, often time older than himself. He was sometimes "approached so aggressively he had to push back and leave". He developed a nicotine addiction, dropped out of school and started having problems with sleeping, all in a span of a few years.

The next time he met Gretzky, he was 18 years old. The Great One took him to Chez Parée, a strip club, to celebrate his final season in the minors. Gretzky told him that they can't be friends anymore, because once he reached NHL, he would be his rival.

That 18 year-old was Mario Lemieux.

And unfortunately this story is real and not a product of my depressed imagination. You can read about it across various biographies written about the player (specifically Martin Lawrence's and Jean Sonmor's ones).

All of this is being said not to excuse Lemieux's depravity, but to demonstrate how circular is abuse in the hockey environment. Abuse breeds abuse, the community these players forge is an echo chamber which further enables harmful behaviour. There are many more stories like these and Gretzky himself was groomed into such behaviours since young by older players.

Only by talking about such cases, only by condemning their actions publicly and criticising hockey culture we can hope to make a change.

S H I T!!!!!!

link

[chaezaqueue]

I haven’t burned incense in a long time, and I burned a whole stick in my room with the door closed. My EYES. They burn. Cigarette smoke usually doesn’t bother me because I’m used to it? But damn. I have a headache LOL. remember to open your windows when burning things.

[chaeza]

I’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ. Mʏ sɪʙʟɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ᴛᴏᴏ. Iᴛ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇᴍ ɢʟᴏᴏᴍʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ. Iғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴇxᴄɪᴛɪɴɢ. Mᴀʏʙᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪs ɢɪғᴛɪɴɢ ᴜs ᴛʜɪs ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ?

Mɪʟʟᴇɴɴɪᴀʟ Rᴀɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ Mᴀʀᴄʜ 24, 2024

Aɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀs

I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ

Dɪᴅ I ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ?

Wᴀs ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴏ

Rɪᴛᴜᴀʟɪsᴛɪᴄ

Fʟᴏʀᴀʟ

Uɴʀᴇᴀʟ

Wɪʟʟ ᴍʏ sᴏᴜʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ

Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴs?

Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴs?

Uɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇɴ

Aɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ

I’ʟʟ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ

Aɴᴅ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ

Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ

Fᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?

Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ

Iɴ ɢʀɪᴇғ?

Oʀ ᴡɪʟʟ I ᴊᴏɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ

Hᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴀɴᴅ

Aɴᴅ ʟᴀʏ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ

Aᴛ Hɪs ғᴇᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ

[agendabymooner]

ditty and estie greet the world || eo31 scenario

dad!esteban ocon x mom!ofc (british royal!ofc) ft. ocon!baby

POTENTIAL EXTENSION TO THE ROYAL RESEMBLANCE (SMAU)

Summary: Diana ‘Ditty’ Ocon made her presence known to the formula one world as a two year old during the FIA prize giving ceremony. Her sweetness, however, was what encouraged her parents Albertine and Esteban to show the world her capabilities as a shy toddler. 

Content warning: dad!Esteban content 😚, fluff, based on an idea I brought up to a moot, shitty French translation, Lissie Mackintosh segment, shy toddler being cheered on, OFC and baby resembles Princess Diana

Note: Having an Oscar Piastri brain rot atm but I need to get wholesome dad!F1 driver out of my system. I’m currently restraining my brain from writing more smut rn.

My friend would’ve gotten twenty dollars from me if Ferrari won this race but noooo they didn’t soooo. Enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

“Tu es très jolie, Ditty ! Maman t'a-t-elle habillée?” You look very pretty, Ditty! Did Mummy dress you up? 

“Mummy m'habille!” Mummy dress me! The little girl who sat on the Alpine driver’s lap grinned toothily at her father, babbling at her parents as she continued to speak, “Papa, rentre bientôt chez toi?” Go home soon? 

“Darling,” Albie laughed heartily, “Nous venons de quitter l'hôtel!” We just left the hotel.

“But go home soon?” Diana Marie-François Elisabeth Ocon-Khelfane, or Ditty to most, was a delightful little girl. Her great uncle Charles Spencer recalled his eldest sister’s childhood photos and how much resemblance did Ditty have to Princess Diana. Everyone in Esteban and Albertine’s family knew that, much like Albie, Ditty was a carbon copy of Diana Spencer.

Though if you were to ask anyone, Ditty was more like Diana than Albie was. Ditty was more reserved and shy— she had gotten her personality from Esteban, who often took a while to get used to new people before warming up to them. It was no wonder why Estie and Ditty made the bestest of friends— they liked to attach themselves to each other AND to Albie. 

“We’re not going home soon, pretty,” Albie told Ditty gently, fixing her daughter’s bow as the girl continued to look up with the brightest blue eyes to have ever existed. Her eyes, no matter how bright, were shaped like her father’s— so no one could really oppose and say that she wasn’t her father’s daughter. “Papa’s going to get his award soon, no? We’ll be there for Papa, Ditty.” 

“A- ‘wawd?” Ditty’s brows furrowed a little as she looked up at Estie with a puzzled look. “What is ‘ward?” 

“C'est quand vous avez fait quelque chose de vraiment, vraiment bien et que vous en obtenez quelque chose de bon,” It’s when you do something really really good that you get something good out of it. Esteban explained to Ditty with a grin. 

“Like you eating your veggies,” Estie continued. “What does Mummy give you?”

“Pain au choc’lat?” 

“Oui, mon bebe,” Estie nodded. “Except Papa’s getting something else. Not pain au chocolat!” 

Apparently, it was going to be a struggle— getting Ditty to socialize with everyone around them. It took Albie a while to unattach the toddler in her arms. 

Only for the girl to cling to Esteban as she hid her face away from the press and other people. She kept her hands wrapped around Estie’s neck as her blonde hair appeared in the pictures, journalists and photographers asking Estie and Albie to pose for the cameras. They didn’t relent, allowing Ditty to hide her little cherub face away for a brief moment as the couple waved and smiled. 

Albie, realizing that she had the little mouse plush on her hand (one that Ditty called ‘Cheese’), put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder gently and caught the toddler’s attention. “Want your friend Cheese, Dit?” 

Ditty lifted her face off her dad’s shoulder for a brief moment and nodded, “Mewci, Mummy,” before hiding away again. 

Estie and Albie exchanged looks and chuckled, amused at their daughter’s demeanour. 

“Ditty, bebe,” Estie told the girl, “Cheese wants to say hi to everyone. You want to wave too?” 

“Oh, I want to say hi, indeed, Papa!” Albie mimicked a different voice, as if she was pretending to be Cheese. “Pouvons-nous dire bonjour ensemble, Ditty?” Can we please say hi together, Ditty?

“See? He wants to wave— show him, like this—“ Estie smiled at the cameras and waved. Albie followed along, cameras flashing as they smiled. 

Slowly but surely, Ditty’s hand began to wave. She hadn’t realized that Cheese was on her hand, but she was doing what her Mummy and Papa were doing. That was enough for her. 

And when they reached the F1 host for the red carpet, Ditty went back to hiding. This time, she clutched Cheese in her hand as Esteban got interviewed by Lissie Mackintosh. 

“This is actually amazing— seeing you in P3 in the championship’s. I’m quite happy to see you become successful this season,” Lissie complimented Esteban. “Are you looking forward to the next one? Do you know what your next steps are?”

“I— I’m actually really excited for the next season,” Esteban grinned, not even aware that he’s carrying her daughter in his arms as he continued to answer. “With how things went with the car and successful communication between my team and I, I thought that it gave me more confidence to move on with the next season. And even if there will be a struggle, I know that we’ll be able to sort it out.”

“I like that,” Lissie nodded before she noticed the girl hiding away in Esteban’s arms. The host continued to ask regardless, “But for now you’re just here to celebrate your successes and you’ll be getting your prize for the P3. And I can tell that you’re here with your family too! How amazing is that!” 

“—Mrs. Albertine Ocon, it’s very nice to see you,” Lissie continued as the royal princess smiled and greeted back. “It’s been quite a handful this season, huh? I’m very glad to see you back in the Formula One celebrations and events— we’ve missed your presence in the paddock.”

“Ah yes,” the British princess chuckled, “just because I was gone for a while it didn’t mean I wasn’t doing anything.” 

“We all know that,” Lissie rolled her eyes playfully. “You probably had been working harder than your husband in here!”

“Hey!” Esteban laughed alongside the two women before he nodded in agreement, “Well, I can’t really deny that! This little darling right here was a hard work made by Albie and me but… Albie’s done more to help her grow, you know?”

Speaking of the devil…

Ditty Ocon finally grew tired of hiding away as she lifted her head and looked in front of her, cowering under the watchful eyes and camera pointed at her and her family before she hid again.

Esteban chuckled and reassured, “No, no, it’s okay, bebe! Just wave! Like we did!” 

Ditty, feeling a bit hesitant, waved lightly and continued to clutch Cheese the mouse in her hand.

“You look absolutely beautiful!” Lissie complimented the girl with a grin, trying to be as chill to allow the girl to grow comfortable with her. “Can you tell us what your name is?” 

Ditty looked at her parents as she hid her face from everyone, earning soft chuckles and a series of ‘awww’ from her surroundings.

Everyone already knew that she was Princess Diana in the making with the shyness that she showed everyone. 

But Esteban and Albertine Ocon weren’t about to let her meekness get in the way of her opportunity to be friendly to others. 

Esteban started, “It’s okay if you want to speak French, mon ange.”

He looked back at Lissie, “She prefers talking to people in French first before English.”

“Ah,” Lissie nodded.

“It’s okay, darling,” Albie cooed quietly, tucking the girl’s hair behind her ears as the princess continued, “they're nice people. We talk to them.” 

“Can you say… ‘je’…” Esteban instructed his daughter.

Ditty, with all her capabilities at the moment, had mumbled to the microphone, “Je…”

“Suis…” 

“Su’…”

“…Ditty.”

“…D—tty,” the girl mumbled with lack of confidence.

“Je suis Ditty!” Esteban repeated with a grin, his smile infecting the girl as she enthusiastically repeated this time with, “Je suis Di-tty!” I am Ditty! 

Rounds of applause were heard and given as they applauded the girl’s words. Estie and Albie both grinned as they praised Ditty.

“Good job, my girl!” Albie exclaimed with a wide, supportive smile. 

“Très bon, bébé!” Very good, baby! Estie hyped up Ditty as he clapped his hands. 

Ditty looked around her and grinned, her little hands now clapping as she clapped for herself.

Yeah… she could get used to this. Maybe her meekness will grow and she’ll become a confident girl like her mother and grandmother were.

All she needed was to be provided with endless support. This was what Esteban and Albertine Ocon were here for.

[gothushi]

Could you elaborate on the one look to make him kneel and him wanting to be slapped, please 👉👈 (thank you so much for sharing your thoughts by the way, oh my gosh!!💓💓)

writing submissive men is honestly my religion i’m more than happy to oblige🫶🏻🩷thank u!

cw: impact play (slapping), simon on his knees

Tonight’s been long, too long. You’ve sipped at your drink for an eternity now, just waiting for Simon to be done working the bar at Chez-Chez. Sat at a tall table in the corner of the room, you have a good view to keep your eyes on him. His own blues find your eyes plenty of times, giving you a wink, a cheeky smile or a smirk.

Another half hour later results in the rest of the patrons being told to leave, and as you pick at the polish on your nails standing outside the club Simon finally emerges with his coat tugged on, the late night air chilled from earlier rain.

“Hey sweetheart,” His hand finds yours, finger’s interlocking and his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. You tilt your head up to meet his lips in a little kiss before beginning the walk to your apartment.

Keys jingle in the lock as you enter, door clicking shut behind you both, shuffling as you both toe off your shoes, slip your coats from your shoulders and hang them up on the hook on the wall. Simon busies himself with moving to the living room, a tired yawn escaping him as he sets his phone down on the coffee table and collapses onto the couch with a groan. You, however, eye him from the kitchen, standing by the counter. Carefully removing your rings, letting the jewelry clatter onto the countertop as your hungry eyes roam over his body.

His legs are spread, a long sleeved blue shirt adorning his body. It’s simple, but he wears it so well, the thin fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest and tummy. He’s reclined back, head tilted against the couch with his eyes closed as he notices the silence. An eye peeks open, head tilting in your direction as he grins, “What’re you staring at, hm?”

A similar smile paints your lips, the last of the jewelry on your hands gone, and your hands find the buckle of your belt instead. Maintaining eye contact with Simon, you slide it from the buckle, slowly taking it from the loops on your jeans, “Somethin’ pretty, that’s all,” is the coy response he gets. You both stare at each other for a solid fifteen seconds, your eyes narrowing a bit, hungrily tracing down his torso, and that’s all it takes for him to slide off the couch onto the floor. Knees part, hands on his thighs, his heart already starting to beat a bit faster.

“Well look at you..” You sigh happily, bare feet meeting carpet as you walk over to him. You take his previous spot on the couch, spreading your legs apart for him to settle between. Simon shuffles closer, a hand finding your thigh that you retaliate with a quiet “ah ah,” and he moves it back to his own thigh. Color blooms high on his cheeks as he stares up at you, eyes softening with a dazed look as your hand combs into his hair, “So handsome, y’know that?”

A little smile finds his lips, making him look boyish, sweet, not the crude, revenge hungry cop you know. His eyes flutter as your nails drag over his scalp, and he gives a soft exhale in response, relaxing more before you. With his eyes closed, he doesn’t see you moving your leg, not until your shin presses against the growing bulge in his jeans. Dazed eyes open again, a soft gasp as his hips kick back a little at the touch. But you tsk, fingers curling into his hair in a gentle yet firm grasp, “Easy.. I just wanna play, don’t you?”

The way you speak, your tone so low yet casual, has him reeling. After a long day, it’s easy for him to allow you to take over. “Yeah, please? Will you make me feel good?” And oh, how cute, right?

“Of course honey, I always do. Go on, move, slow.” The order doesn’t fall on deaf ears, his knees parting further as he presses into your leg. His cock already aches, pleasure blooming in his gut as he grinds against your leg. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it won’t last long, not when he’s already starting to blush a pretty red and his hands hover in the air on either side of your leg, fighting the urge to grab on for support. Simon squirms a bit, your hand tightening in his hair which makes his lips part, jaw dropping as he huffs a little moan. The entire time your eyes are locked together, and eventually a whimper falls from him.

“Can I–..” He starts, pausing to swallow and exhale through his nose, “Can I undo my jeans?” And he asks so politely, you surely couldn’t say no.

“Go on,” You nod, allowing him to pause his needy grinding. He doesn’t even break eye contact as he undoes his own belt, not even taking it from the belt loops as his fingers skillfully undo his button and zipper, sitting up on his knees just enough to push them down his hips. Black boxers do little to hide just how fucking hard he is, a little wet spot on the fabric. He presses back to you, grinding his cock against your shin, and this time his hands find your leg, holding onto your calf for support as he exhales another moan.

As pretty as he is, the action of his hands on you is displeasing, “Hands off, I never said you could touch.” The sharp words make him actually whine, huffing a pitiful noise as his eyes roll a little, even as he removes his hands. But, that attitude, you seen it. Before he knows it, the hand is gone from his hair as your palm connects with his left cheek in a sharp slap.

“Ah–!” Simon’s head snaps to the side, eyes fluttering as his thighs squeeze around your leg. Pure heat blooms on his face as he feels his cock throb in his boxers, so embarrassed by how nice that felt. “Do that again. Please,” is the pathetic plea that follows, his knees spreading again to continue grinding needily like a mutt in heat.

A laugh sounds from your throat, and you grab his cheeks with your thumb and two fingers, squishing his cheeks a bit to force him to look up at you, “And why should I? You like me hitting you Simon?”

His face is flushed deep red with embarrassment and arousal, starting to pant a little. His whiny voice quickly starts to beg, “I said please. I like it. Please?” His hips press even faster, feeling his core muscles ache just the slightest, pretty puppy eyes looking up at him. And ugh, he’s just so sweet, so pliant with you. Your grasp on his face is gone, and his eyes fall lidded with lust just before you hit him again. The slap echoes in the apartment, as does the cry he emits as a result. His hips falter and then roll even faster, jaw dropping as he starts to moan with every exhale of his panting breath.

“Again?”

“Again.” He confirms, having trouble keeping his eyes open but oh, does he do his best for you.

“Can you handle it baby?”

“I can– fuck I can handle it. Please.” Soft brown hair falls forward as he drops his head for a second, lifting it back up as he nods quickly in confirmation. So, you swap hands, palm meeting his right cheek in a weak little hit, enough to produce a sharp noise but not enough to really hit the spot, figuratively and literally. “Harder,” he pleads, his hands curling into the denim at his hips, needing to hold onto something. That heat in his core is building, hurriedly grinding against your leg, humping pathetically as he’s already so close, his cock aches so badly it hurts, desperately searching relief.

Again, and again, your palm meets his cheek, the skin ruddy red and sensitive, hot with an embarrassed flush as he cries out. Once more, and he gasps, thighs squeezing your leg as he moans loudly. A tremor wracks through him as he orgasms, eyes fluttering and rolling back into his head. Simon feels your hand curl into his hair, jerking his head up harshly. The natural response is to reach up, move to grab your arm because it hurts, but he quickly pauses and puts his hands back down because he knows better.

He’s sat before you on his knees, panting hard, shaking a little as his core muscles burn, and his teary eyes blink open. “‘m sorry, I–“

He’s interrupted by a sharp slap, harder than the rest. He gasps, feeling his mouth and cock both drool a little and oh God is he embarrassed, but he loves it. “You little pervert, I’m not done with you.” You hand grabs his cheeks again, making him look up at you.

And the only response is a breathless laugh, a big grin on his face.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

DINE 'N CRIME: DUMPLING

This recipe is part of the menu of 'Chez Molerat vs Dine 'n Crime'.

HOW TO MAKE THE FILLING. Ingredients: - Fatty pork meat/porkbelly slices (preferably ground meat) - 2 hands full of big shrimp (deshelled and cleaned out). - Two gloves of finely chopped garlic - A piece of ginger (size of your pinky finger), also finely chopped - 2 Spring onions - 1 can of bamboo shoots (use only half of it) - 2 quick shakes of ground white pepper (or to your preferred taste) - 2 tbsp of water - 2 tsp of Soy sauce - 2 tsp of Shaoxing cooking wine - 1 tsp of Sesame oil - Samyang Buldak sauce to your liking (HOT!) Optional ingredients: - Finely chopped carrot - Finely chopped cabbage - Finely chopped shiitake mushrooms

Instructions: - If you have ground pork, great! If you don't; chop the pieces of fatty pork meat as big as your pinky fingers. After that, carefully start hammering down on it with two knives; ground it ye olde way! It's a bit time consuming but you'll feel like a professional chef when you start double wielding kitchen knives. Keep in mind that this causes a lot of noise though and PLEASE BE CAREFUL BECAUSE KNIVES ARE SHARP! Once you are done, put the ground pork into a bowl. - Wash and deshell the shrimps in cold water. Take out the guts, wash the shimps once more and finally chop the shrimps into 4 to 5 pieces. Add the shrimps to the pork. - Clean and finely chop 2 spring onions (depending on the size it can also be 1 or 3). Chop the bamboo shoots and lastly mince the ginger and garlic into tiny pieces (you can also grate the ginger and use a garlic press for the garlic). Add these ingredients to the pork shrimp mixture. - Add the water, ground pepper, soy sauce, Shaoxing cooking wine, sesame oil and Buldak sauce to the mixture. Stir well until everything is evenly divided. Once combined, cover the bowl and set the filling aside in the refrigerator. NOTE: If you do not have the Buldak sauce, that's no problem! You can easily replace this with a bit of Madam Jeanette or any other hot pepper to your liking. It's up to your spice level. Keep in mind that this recipe is made to my preferences and not everyone likes hot foods. So if you want to eat good dumplings without the spice; leave out the Buldak sauce (or use it seperately for dipping).

HOW TO MAKE THE DUMPLING SKIN (RECOMMENDED FOR MORE ADVANCED COOKS). Ingredients: - Water 120mL/4.2oz - 200g/0.85 cup of All purpose flour - A pinch of salt - 80g/half a cup of Spinach (preferably fresh baby spinach) for the green dough - Liquid Squid ink for the black dough

Instructions: - Add the flour and salt to the mixing bowl. - Boil the water, turn off the stove and add the baby spinach to soften it. Make sure to NOT overcook spinach as it contains 'prussic Acid' which means that your body can turn this stuff into Cyanide.Not enough to actually kill you, of course... I hope. I'm a Doctor, but not a health doctor or dietician, so don't take it as hard facts from me! Technically speaking, you're also not a 'doctor', you know... Since you're a drop out. ZIP IT, SHEGO! - Add the softened spinach and the water to a mixer and blend it until smooth. - Sieve the blended spinach juice until all the pulp is seperated from the warm green water (yummy). Make sure that the water is around 45°c/113°f - Carefully add the warm water to the flour as you mix it - Make a ball of dough and if it's too wet, add a little bit more flour but not too much! Keep on kneading and once the ball of dough is springy to touch (push it in with your finger and it should go back up) it's ready! - Divide the dough in two equal pieces. Wrap up one of them and to the other we will add a few drops of squid ink. Knead the ball (yes it will be a bit sticky again) until it changes color. We're aiming for a dark grey color, not to worry; this will turn black during the steaming process. HOW TO FOLD THE DUMPLINGS: For the life of me I cannot explain to you how to fold dumplings so here; have this amazing tutorial by China Sichuan Food. My auntie taught me how to fold crescent moon dumplings but well, I'm still not the best at it when it comes to folding home made dumpling skin. That's the reason why I adviced at the start that making this is for more advanced cooks. If you have never folded dumplings before, I recommend you start with store bought frozen gyoza skins. They are WAY easier to make dumplings with but sadly, I haven't found any black and green frozen gyoza skins in stores.

Once you're finished making all your dumplings, you can go right ahead and steam them for 7~8 minutes OR you can store them in the freezer (make sure to first seperately freeze them for up to 1 hour (or until slightly hardened) and then you can put all of them together in a bag, this way they won't stick together) If you want to heat them up after freezing; steam them for 15 minutes.

HOW TO MAKE THE DIPPING SAUCE. Ingredients: - 1 tbsp Chinese black vinegar - 1 to 2 tbsp Soy sauce - 1 tsp Sesame oil Mix these condiments together in a little bowl, for topping you can add: - Sesame seeds - Sliced chilli - Finely sliced ginger

Enjoy these dumplings while hot! Carefully bite the tip to create a little air hole so you won't burn your mouth because these dumplings are juicy!

[azulera]

Bisous

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Black Reader

Summary: 5 different ways that Kylian gives you kisses.

Notes: this is 1 of my favorite things i've ever written I think! qué emoción. Gentle feedback is very welcome + ao3 link

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I.

You have a life of your own, and a busy one too, but you always make time for small moments with your lover - a trip to the café, or a night at the cinema. What was small before, with Kylian, suddenly swells to the size of France, the size of Europe, to the size of the world. You’re unpleasantly reminded while waiting in line for a ticket to a 10pm show, and standing impossibly close to each other to brave the weather. The Parisian chill brings out his chivalry, so your hands rest in the pockets of his own jacket.

You look up into your boyfriend’s face colored by streetlights, at his lips gone slightly chapped in the wind and want to kiss them smooth, but think twice, knowing unfriendly eyes and cameras are always watching. It’s as if he can read your thoughts in your eyes, though, as he instead presses a kiss onto your hair that has gone even curlier with the chill. You pretend you can feel the heat of it traveling through your head, down to your chest and all throughout your body. When you see the flash of a phone camera, you go cold, turning and hiding your face in the wall of his chest. When the lights turn to voices, questions, and yells, you begin to pull away, but his hand finds yours and squeezes. The ticket line moves and he is diplomatic, talking his way out of a crowd all while his other arm weighs solid across your shoulders. You hold so tight to his fingers, you think you might break them. But he never lets go.

II.

At family dinners at chez Mbappé, French and English and Arabic blend and blur, and yet everyone is understood. You are even introduced to a cousin, with whom you and Kylian can flex your well-practiced Spanish. Over bowls of salad and rice and stew, conversations, jokes and memories fly and land and a picture comes into focus: in each of his loved ones a piece of the puzzle that makes him who he is, plus that special, unnameable thing that drew you to him in the first place. In the warmth of their presence, that thing grows and blossoms into its fullest form, stress and responsibilities shedding away until only a playful joy is left. Soon you fall under this spell, too, chatting with the adults and playing games with the children, both by his side and on your own. The fullness in your heart at what this means leaks out through your smiles, which come and stay until your face hurts too much from laughing.

What you see shining in his eyes over your dessert napkin later in the night almost frightens you with its tenderness. There are no words to describe what he wants to say, and this is no place for grand gestures, but the silent press of his lips against the back of your hand says a million words, in all of the languages you both speak.

III.

On rides home after a match, whether thrilling win or crushing loss, Kylian is defeated. He slumps into the backseat like a man twice his age, having given the most youthful part of himself to the grass and dirt glowing beneath stadium lights. You, instead, vibrate with energy, adrenaline surging so much from watching along that even your brown cheeks mimic the red stripes on his jersey. So, the two of you meet somewhere in the middle. Seatbelts are forgotten, his head rests on your chest, and your arms circle his back while you wait for your heartbeats to reach a common level.

When his lips latch on to your neck in the dark of the car, you know they are only kisses for kissing’s sake. They are a promise, a reminder, a shadow of a desire hindered only by an exhaustion that permeates his bones. So, you hold him up, enjoying the feeling, and letting him know so, fingers dragging gently along the nape of his neck. Tomorrow he will be bright and buzzing again, but for now he is a gentle giant, calm and docile as a baby, a warm weight between your arms. If he leaves marks to be found in the morning, you know what they will really mean is “thank you”.

IV.

In the mornings, you hear his voice before you see his face, and it is low and rich and as sweet to your ears as a song. His body is soft and warm beside yours in the breaking sunlight, yet he pulls you closer, hands reaching for your golden skin as if you were the sun itself.

“Ma fille d’or,” He calls you, breathing in your scent with his nose between your neck and shoulder. “I have to go.”

“Je sais.” You speak with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get up with you?”

“Non, just stay there, just as you are. Tu est vraiment belle, tu sais?"

“J’ai entendu ça déjà, oui.”

He laughs, so close to your face you can feel the vibration, and then his lips, against your cheeks, eyelids, nose and chin. Tickling you, teasing you, and making you miss him already. You are so swept up you hardly notice when he’s stopped. You open your eyes to his apologetic, smiling face.

“A bientôt, mon amour.”

“A bientôt.”

“Au revoir.”

“Au revoir.”

He is making leaving harder than it has to be, but a final kiss on your bare shoulder makes it softer. He leaves to go get ready for training, and you turn over in bed slowly, carefully. If you don’t ruffle the sheets too much, and stay very still, you can close your eyes and imagine he’s still there.

V.

On empty evenings in your bedroom, where it is the two of you alone, your affection for each other is no longer burdened by place or time. Here, you could kiss him for hours and he would not get tired, and he is as persistent and insatiable as he is on the pitch. Whether you are on top of him, beneath him, or beside him is no matter - the sinews of his body are agile as they bend to you, your mouths drawn to each other as if by magnets behind your teeth.

Here, his kisses punctuate his needs and wants: “Non”, “Oui”, “Look at me”, “Don’t stop”, and you learn to identify his desires by their pressure. There are deep kisses, him swallowing all the sounds you make, and shallow pecks that force more sound out of you, but in each variation there is something the same. Three words, one phrase, whispered, shouted, and cursed, before, during, and after. He speaks them into your open mouth, one time in French, in Spanish, in English, and you think that no lips have ever uttered anything more beautiful. You are breathless, cradled in his strong arms, and lost in his eyes when, one by one, you kiss them back into his.