#d'or

[postcard-from-the-past]

Villa in Champagne-au-Mont-d'Or, northern suburbs of Lyon, France

French vintage postcard

[negreabsolut]

D'un altre temps, d'un altre lloc, per ofgoldes. [font]

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Jean-Pierre Talbot as Tintin (1961)

[teritelnirbenothing]

Activity without rest

It's nothing but a closed cesspool.

Sleep my little friend, sleep,

Your sleep is golden.

[chpalyana]

I'm nostalgic for my 2018

[muffinpink02]

The aura this girl posses is insane. And that fucking tongue, erghhh. On my knees 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

[eightiesfan]

Rip David Lynch (1946 - 2025)

[repulsiveliquidation]

I just wanna know how Olga functions properly around her

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Ceremony 🕶🥇

Alexia Putellas x blind!reader

warning : disability 🕶🦻

(my first language isn't english nor spanish, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Summary :

It's the first time a prestigious football ceremony invites a blind footballer to an award ceremony. During the night, you meet many incredible athletes, one in particular catch your interest.

The night was filled with anticipation. The grand football awards ceremony was abuzz with chatter, the clink of glasses, and soft laughter. It was your first time being invited, and, for the first time in history, a blind footballer like you was recognized at such a prestigious event. The nerves were hard to shake, but you held your head high, fingers lightly tracing the cane in your hand as you navigated through the space.

You'd met some incredible female footballers that night, each more welcoming than the last. Lucy Bronze had given you a warm greeting, Millie Bright had joked about your shared love for the sport, and even Sam Kerr had exchanged a few words with you. But there was a presence that lingered close, someone who seemed to always be nearby, watching, but never intruding.

As the night wore on, you found yourself seated at a quieter corner, enjoying the soft hum of music in the background when you heard a voice, gentle, warm, and distinctly Catalan.

- Holà, mind if I join you?

You tilted your head toward the voice and smiled.

- Not at all.

- Alexia Putellas

She said, her voice as smooth as silk. You could hear the soft clink of her glass being set down.

- I’ve been wanting to meet you all night.

Your heart skipped a beat. Alexia Putellas, the two-time Ballon d'Or winner, was sitting with you, wanting to talk to you of all people. You shifted slightly, trying to compose yourself, but your nervousness must’ve shown because she chuckled lightly.

- You’re doing amazing things. Breaking barriers in football like this, it’s inspiring.

You smiled, touched by her words.

- Thank you. It's surreal being here. I never thought I’d get the chance to attend something like this.

- You deserve to be here as much as anyone. More, even, football is for everyone.

Her voice warm and sincere. The conversation flowed easily. She asked you about your experience in blind football, about your journey, and you found yourself opening up to her. You talked about the challenges, the moments of triumph, and how much you loved the sport. Alexia was an attentive listener, never interrupting, her voice soft and encouraging whenever she spoke.

- I’ve seen clips of your matches

Alexia said at one point.

- The way you move, the way you read the game, it's… incredible. You see the pitch in ways most of us can't.

You laughed softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

- I guess I do, in my own way.

The hours passed like minutes. Her attention was unwavering, making you feel like the only person in the room. By the end of the night, you found yourself drawn to her in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the event began to wind down, you both stood up, ready to part ways. But before you could walk away, Alexia reached out, gently brushing her fingers against your arm.

- I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.

There was something unspoken in her words, something hopeful. You smiled, nodding.

- I’d like that.

And with that, she slipped her hand into yours, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze before guiding you toward the exit. You felt the connection between you grow stronger with every word, every shared laugh, and every step you took together into the night.

[hiddenlife-manager]

Jude Bellingham x Fem Reader

cw… bdsm, caning implied, consent, handcuffs, restraints, blood, wrist pain, a lot of pain, doggy, slightly edited, bruises, etc

notebook… Yall college has been nothing but fucking awful. So yeah I disappeared. Hopefully next semester is better, ALSO I am starting a book. I want to write a romance vampire novel with adventure. (This is totally gonna take me five ish years with this fuck ass schedule of mine.)

Your hands slipped consistently off the wooden board, your knees cushioned by the mattress below. The comforts for your knees meant nothing, your heart beating each pump being loud within your ears. Your ass covered in red streaks, dark spots slowly spreading around. Your body shivered as if it was the coldest day of the entire year; funnily enough, your body was warm, so warm you were dripping down your own legs.

“Had enough?” A deep voice from behind whispered beside your ear; it was strong, loud enough to overshadow your own heart. Your mouth covered by your own panties, drool dribbling down your chin. The lacy fabric bought for this special night is no longer where it was supposed to be. Your wrists were burning, the metal no longer soothing amongst the skin. Your makeup smeared all over your face, your lipstick no longer perfectly aligned around those two lips.

“Mhm.” You weakly attempted to speak, your jaw being locked in place. The pain forced your teeth to clench so tightly the gag did nothing to stop you from talking; it was your jaw. Your hands continuously attempting to grab onto the wooden headboard, no use; the wetness on them causing your wrist to lose grip and hurt your wrist over and over.

“I doubt it; you did this to yourself.” His beautiful two-toned lips pressed right at your temple. Your appearance did not display your true enjoyment. Jude was your lover after all; he would never harm you if you did not want this. It all started because he was curious; you joined him on this journey, and here you were. On your knees, wrist stinging, ass covered in bruises, most importantly dripping wet.

“You want me to fuck you?” His hand raised to your hair and pulled it back. Your face looking rougher than before. “Touch your clit like you want? Just beg, baby.”

“Mhm.” He smirked at the desperate whine. He was wearing only a button-down and dress pants. He let go of your head, forcing your head to drop down at such movements. He made you look at him, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at his every move. His hand pushing against the sleeves and folding them over. One by one, his large hands removed a button from his dress shirt. Only a few were left before he moved to his dress pants.

“You worship me so well, baby.” His lips raised to a smirk, and he pushed your head away. He climbed onto the bed; there his hand touched your bruised ass. “Your poor ass, I’ll take good care of you.” You heard him lowering his boxers from behind you. In minutes you felt his cock prodding at your cheeks. His hand reached for your hair; he gripped it, wrapping it in his hand. Forcing your head back.

“Good girl.” His other hand touched your warm, shivering body, gripped at your waist; he loved every mark on you, the one he made on you, and the scars you brought before you two ever met your beautiful marks. You called them blemishes; he would never. “You don’t deserve prep.”

“MHM!” A cry erupted; your body weakly attempted to grab at the board, the sweat causing them to slip. You felt it, hips being rocked in and out of you. This is all you wanted: you needed him, to be close to him. Perhaps a few would call this brutal or disgusting. You paid no mind to other opinions. Jude was your world, and making him happy and yourself happy is all that matters.

His hand raised, slapping at your left ass cheek, his other hand still holding your hair, forcing your head back. His cock going into your dipping wet cunt, from all the pain inflicted on your body, you were needy. Desperate for him to finally fill you up with what you desired, he enjoyed this foreplay. He loved it; you rarely ever used the safe word. He knew pain made you needy, and watching you in pain created a monster from within.

“So tight,” he groaned, “taking me so well.” His hand that slapped your ass caressing the bruises, even during these harsh sexual encounters, you felt the tender touches he allowed linger. You could only imagine the face of pleasure he currently held. The way his beautiful brown skin complimented yours. The way his dress shirt is messed up, your eyes were shut, creating an image in your mind.

It took several thrusts into your cunt to cause the feeling to slowly become unbearable to ignore. It tingled from within. Causing you to moan into your panties. His thighs hitting your bruised ass caused pleasure and pain. You eventually managed to grab at the headboard, your hair still being in his grip.

“Getting louder and tighter, baby.” You tried to nod, but his hand gripped your hair tighter, preventing you from nodding. His thrust was clean and precise; it hit the right spot every single time. The feeling of an impending orgasm no longer allowed you to ignore it. You wanted to cum; you craved his touch. You knew he was having an ego boost, not just from just handling you so well but from his successes. He was extremely successful, scoring goals in every single match—an impressive feat for a midfielder.

“You want to cum?” There was a hint of playfulness in his tone. He knew you wanted to cum, and he had no intention of stopping you. He held a plan to fuck you even after you cum. He was close; that was not something he could deny. He wasn’t as close as you thought. “I will allow you to cum; all you have to do is spit those panties out and beg.”

In a matter of seconds, you tried to spit the panties out; unfortunately, it wasn’t easy. It slipped out of your mouth with more drool than anything. “Please, Jude, let me cum. I’ve been good!”

“Good girl.” He gripped your hair even tighter; finally, he could hear your gasps and moans without the panties in your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry out in pleasure when you cum. “Go ahead.” He thrust harder than before; his free hand, no longer on your cheek, snaked down to your clit. His long and skinny fingers rubbing circles with the right pace.

“Shit.” Your cunt clenched on him tightly, and your legs shook with fury. Your hands lost grip once more on the headboard, and with his permission, he let go of your hair. Your head dropped, followed by his hands gripping at your waist and quickening the pace, thrusting with purpose. You cried out in pleasure, the orgasm washing through you; immediately you realized he wasn’t stopping. “Too much!”

“You asked to cum, baby; you made the choice.” Your ears picked up the teasing tone. You could not stop the shaking, the pain of being overstimulated. He did not stop his two fingers rubbing at your clit. He ignored your pleas; he was chasing the high he deserved. He pleased you, and it was your turn to treat him. “Ugh! Fucking close!”

You tried hard to pull away, but each time was futile; his body thrust deeper each time, and he would press just a little harder on your clit at your attempts. Your tears quicken down your face, your wrist becoming almost naked by the rubbing. You were no longer grabbing onto anything, causing your wrist to ache in pain. His thighs began to tense, his thrust kept at the pace, not slowing down for a second.

“So fucking good!” He smirked at how he was close. Then there it was, the feeling of being full. You were about to orgasm once more, and you knew this one had something else. You cried louder, begging him to slow down; he could care less. Then it happened; he thrust so deep he felt you clench harder than before, and a grunt left his lips. His head was thrown back, and that was it. Your body burst in pleasure, and the sheets below you were covered by your own sweet liquids. Your legs shook so much you no longer supported your knees, and you fell down, his cock slipping out.

“How pathetic; you ruined our sheets.” He groaned in pleasure, his cock dripping his cum; your cunt was full already. He climbed over you gently and removed the key from his neck and unlocked your wrist. He would never let you lie there exhausted and your wrist aching. He loved you too much.

[postcard-from-the-past]

Church of Saint-Romain-au-Mont-d'Or, northern suburbs of Lyon, France

French vintage postcard

[negreabsolut]

Dimoni daurat, per blackroselover. [font]

[thecrazyxeniacat]

Charlotte Family, Egghead Arc concept.

[imverits]

[reminiscingtonight]

The queen has spoken, everyone can go home now

[gabbysthoughts4thots]

Hugging ruben before anything else and Ruben holding his crutches for him IM SOBBING