#mixing high and low fashion

[beingjellybeans]

Dressing Old Money Style on a Budget: Embracing Timeless Elegance

In the world of fashion, certain styles never fade. One such enduring aesthetic is the “old money” style, characterized by timeless elegance, sophistication, and understated luxury. This look has gained considerable popularity in recent times, largely because of its refined appeal and the desire to embrace a more classic and enduring approach to fashion. Achieving this style doesn’t have to break…

[toytulini]

But Also i do think. Expecting Crisp Ironed Clothes of someone in a fucking job interview is Unhinged. I think most professional dress standards are Stupid.

[littlelamy]

fittings; drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader; mdni

the atmosphere in the fitting room was electric. a mix of bustling excitement and high stakes surrounded you as you stood in front of the mirror, admiring the intricate details of the lingerie you were trying on. it was one of the final fittings for the victoria’s secret fashion show, and you were set to take the stage in a few days. the excitement was palpable, but your thoughts were elsewhere today.

today, drew was here.

the reflection in the mirror showcased your figure, adorned in lace and delicate silks that clung perfectly to your body. the soft lighting accentuated every curve, and the sight alone made you feel powerful and confident. you adjusted the straps of the bra, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin as you glanced toward the door.

drew stood leaning against the doorframe, his gaze locked on you with a mixture of admiration and something darker, more intense. his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on every exposed inch of skin as you shifted under his gaze. you had invited him to this fitting for a reason—his presence made you feel something extra, something exciting, and today felt like the perfect day to indulge in that energy.

“you look incredible,” drew murmured, his voice low and husky. he moved toward you, his hands sliding up your sides before resting on your hips, fingers grazing the edge of the sheer panties you wore. his touch was light, teasing, but it sent shivers down your spine. “i can’t believe you’re mine.”

a playful smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. “you’re going to have to behave yourself,” you teased, your voice soft but carrying a hint of mischief. “i’ve still got to practice walking the stage after this.”

drew’s grin widened as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “i don’t think i’m capable of behaving right now,” he whispered, the heat in his voice unmistakable.

your breath hitched as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing his lips down your collarbone, each kiss slow and deliberate. you knew you should stop him, tell him to wait until after the fitting, but the way his hands explored your body, skimming the curves of your waist, made it impossible to focus on anything else. his touch was intoxicating, and every nerve in your body was alive, sensitive to his every move.

drew’s hands traveled lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose more of you. his fingers brushed against your core, teasing you with feather-light strokes that made your legs weak. you closed your eyes, biting your lip as a soft moan escaped you. he knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you melt under his touch.

“you’re so perfect,” drew breathed, his voice filled with awe as he kneeled in front of you. his eyes never left yours as he slowly dragged your panties down, leaving you completely exposed before him. “so beautiful.”

you gasped as his lips pressed against your inner thigh, slowly kissing his way up. each touch sent waves of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation. drew’s hands held your hips firmly, his mouth inching closer to where you needed him most. he paused, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you squirm in his grasp.

“you taste even better than you look,” drew murmured before finally diving in. his tongue flicked over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the fitting room table for support as he devoured you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes that had you seeing stars.

he didn’t rush. drew took his time, savoring every second, his mouth moving expertly as he licked and sucked, his praises spilling from his lips between each movement.

“you’re so sweet, baby. god, i could do this all day,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your core as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. his tongue circled your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

your breathing became ragged, every moan and whimper spilling from your lips growing louder. it was hard to stay quiet, especially when he was this good, but you had to remind yourself that the walls were thin and anyone could be passing by outside the fitting room. still, that sense of urgency only made the moment more thrilling, more forbidden.

you couldn’t hold back anymore as drew intensified his efforts, his tongue moving in rapid circles while his fingers slipped inside you, curling and hitting that perfect spot. the combination was enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you.

you cried out his name, your grip on the table tightening as your legs trembled, barely able to support your weight. drew didn’t stop until you were completely spent, drawing every last bit of pleasure from your body before finally pulling back.

he looked up at you, his lips glistening with evidence of what he had just done, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste so good, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before standing up, pulling you into his arms.

your head was spinning, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. you leaned into drew, your breathing uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

“fuck, drew,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “i’m supposed to be practicing right now.”

he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he kissed you, his lips still tasting like you. “you can practice in a bit,” he murmured against your lips. “i just wanted a taste before you had to leave.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, pushing him away slightly as you stepped back to adjust the lingerie. the lace was still perfectly intact, though your legs felt a bit like jelly after what he had just done to you.

you caught your reflection in the mirror again and smoothed the fabric, still feeling drew’s eyes on you, hungry and full of desire. but you had work to do, even if you could feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin.

“i need to go,” you said, giving him one last playful glance as you turned toward the door. but the way he looked at you, all hungry and satisfied, told you this wouldn’t be the last of his "distractions" before the show. and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[driverlando]

✧.* BABY PIASTRI

synopsis - in which everyone speculates whether you and Oscar have had your baby or not (Oscar Piastri x Wife/Model!reader)

before you continue: pls reblog and follow if you enjoyed! my requests are open, pop in anytime <3

—

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 113, 368 others

yourusername baby daddy 🤤

view all 1,598 comments

yourfan1 HAVE YOU HAD THE BABY???

↳ yourfan2 Right?!? We NEED Confirmation!!!

↳ oscarfan1 you don’t need anything. let them set their own pace

landonorris that smirk tho

↳ yourusername so hot right?

↳ landonorris the hottest

oscarfan2 the anticipation is killing me! is it a boy or a girl?

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 758,892 others

oscarpiastri baby mama 🥵

view all 2,456 comments

oscarfan3 she doesn’t look pregnant there 👀

↳ yourfan3 let’s not speculate on a woman’s body thanks

oscarfan4 what’s the baby’s name? 🥰

yourusername I love you!

↳ oscarpiastri I love you more 😘

↳ landonorris stop being so cute im going to throw up

yourfan5 name a prettier woman

↳ yourfan5 that’s right, you can’t

gigihadid pretty girl! 🫶

—

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, bellahadid and 924,668 others

oscarpiastri dad life 😎🐥

view all 3,456 comments

oscarfan5 babe wake up, we got confirmation on baby piastri!!

yourfan6 congratulations!! so happy for yall

charles_leclerc seems like a nice life

↳ oscarpiastri it’s the best, I recommend 😉

yourusername my sexy man 🤤

↳ yourfan7 y/ns ready for baby number 2 by the looks of it 😂

yourusername also THIS was your idea?

↳ oscarpiastri It did the job right? Everyone knows we’ve had the baby now 😃

↳ oscarfan7 I have a feeling y/n won’t be trusting Oscar with any future announcements anymore 😂

landonorris urm photo creds?

↳ yourusername I should’ve known you’d help him with his plan 😂

—

MODEL Y/N AND OSCAR PIASTRI ANNOUNCE BABY ARRIVAL IN HILARIOUS INSTAGRAM POST

The speculation is over! After weeks of swirling rumors and eager fan speculation, F1 sensation Oscar Piastri and supermodel Y/N have joyfully confirmed the arrival of their first child. The couple, known for their playful and private relationship, took to Instagram in true Oscar fashion with a post that left fans both laughing and overjoyed.

In a post that quickly went viral, Oscar Piastri shared a snapshot that epitomizes his unique sense of humor. The photo features Oscar reclining in an ice bath, looking every bit the doting father surrounded by a collection of bright yellow rubber ducks. The cheeky caption read, “Dad life 😎🐥”, a perfect blend of coolness and whimsy that fans have come to expect from the Australian racing star.

The image, posted late last night, immediately sparked a flurry of congratulatory messages from fans and fellow celebrities alike. Followers were quick to point out the cleverness of the reveal, with many applauding the couple’s decision to maintain their privacy while also sharing their joy in such a lighthearted manner.

Y/N, who has been relatively low-key on social media during the pregnancy, reposted the image on her own Instagram story, adding a heart emoji and the simple caption, “Our little duckling 🐥❤️”. The subtle, sweet addition was enough to melt hearts around the globe, cementing the couple’s place as one of the most adored pairs in the celebrity world.

The announcement comes after months of speculation, as eagle-eyed fans had been piecing together clues from Y/N’s and Oscar’s social media posts and public appearances. The couple, who are high school sweethearts and got married last year, have always been somewhat private about their personal lives, often dodging direct questions about their relationship in interviews. Their decision to keep the pregnancy under wraps until now has been met with a mix of curiosity and respect from the public.

The lighthearted and unconventional nature of their announcement has only endeared them further to their followers. “This is peak Oscar,” one fan commented. “Only he would announce becoming a dad with a bunch of rubber ducks. Love it!”

Fellow F1 drivers were also quick to react, with many taking to social media to congratulate their colleague. Lewis Hamilton posted a series of laughing emojis and the comment, “Mate, this is brilliant. Congrats!” Meanwhile, Sergio Pérez shared the post on his story, adding, “Welcome to the club, Oscar! So happy for you and Y/N.”

Y/N’s friends from the modeling world also chimed in with their well-wishes. Supermodel and close friend Gigi Hadid commented, “So happy for you both! Can’t wait to meet the little one 🐣❤️.” Other notable names like Kendall Jenner and Hailey Bieber also left congratulatory messages, highlighting the couple’s wide circle of supportive friends.

While details about the baby’s name and gender remain under wraps, sources close to the couple suggest that both mother and baby are healthy and doing well. It’s been reported that the couple is currently enjoying some much-needed family time away from the public eye, focusing on bonding with their new arrival.

Oscar Piastri’s journey to fatherhood marks another exciting chapter in his already impressive career. The 23-year-old has been making waves in the Formula 1 world, known for his fierce competitiveness and undeniable talent on the track. His personal life, however, has remained a refreshing blend of humor and humility, as evidenced by this recent announcement.

Y/N, who has graced the covers of countless fashion magazines and walked the runways for top designers, has also been balancing her career and personal life with grace and style. The couple’s shared values and mutual support have made them a power duo, both in their professional and personal lives.

As the news continues to spread, fans eagerly await more updates from the couple, hoping for a glimpse into their life as new parents. For now, the iconic ice bath photo with its playful rubber ducks will remain a delightful and heartwarming reminder of this special moment.

In a world often dominated by glitz and glamour, Oscar and Y/N’s announcement is a breath of fresh air, reminding everyone that sometimes, the simplest and silliest moments are the ones that matter the most.

Congratulations to the happy couple on their new adventure into parenthood!

—

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[lxndonorris]

a special day at Monza - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut after winning at Monza, Charles wants to celebrate with you x A continuation to this x word count: 4400+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 @pitstopreality-f1 open for requests!

Charles has done it. He won the Monza Grand Prix in spectacular fashion, crossing the finish line just ahead of the Mclaren after outsmarting them with his strategy.

The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, the sea of red flags waving high as Ferrari triumphed once again on home soil. It was a beautiful moment, the kind of victory that left an indelible mark on anyone who witnessed it.

From down below, you watched him, your heart swelling with pride as the Italian national anthem played. Charles stood on the top step of the podium, his expression a mix of joy and relief. You saw him let out a long sigh, as if the weight of the world finally lifted off his shoulders.

The tension he carried throughout the weekend melted away in that single moment. He was beaming, his face flushed with adrenaline and pure elation.

As the champagne bottles popped, Charles and the other drivers sprayed each other with wild abandon. He looked incredible, absolutely phenomenal, standing there in his special black Ferrari suit, the carbon fiber aesthetic gleaming under the podium lights.

He was in his element, a winner among winners, and he knew it. That self-assured grin played across his lips as he took it all in.

After what felt like an endless stream of interviews, photos, and celebrations, you and Charles finally escape to his private quarters. You step into the room, taking in the luxurious interior, while Charles speaks to his assistant, telling them he needs to change into fresh clothes. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, leaving you alone, Charles lets out a quiet, almost boyish celebration—a little "yes" under his breath, his fist pumping the air.

You can't help but smile as you approach him from behind, your fingers grazing the damp fabric of his racing suit. He smells intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat, champagne, and the faint remnants of his cologne, the scent still clinging to him after all the podium chaos.

"How do you feel?" You ask, your voice soft as you trace the curve of his back, your hand trailing down the line of his spine.

Charles turns to face you, his hands immediately finding your waist, pulling you in close. His eyes sparkle with a kind of raw, unfiltered energy, the high of his victory still coursing through him.

You steady yourself against his chest, feeling the silky fabric underneath your palm.

"It's... it feels so good," he breathes, his voice low and thick with emotion. "We... I needed that, so much."

You can feel how much he is relishing this moment—the way his grip tightens on your waist, his need to ground himself in something familiar, something physical.

His racing suit clings to his skin, soaked through with champagne, but still, the fabric feels so good beneath your fingers. His chest is firm, his body exuding strength and exhaustion in equal measure, yet he seems more alive than ever, buzzing with energy.

Charles' hair is tousled, messy from the helmet and hours of racing, and his face is flushed from both the effort and the celebration. He looks beautiful—raw, powerful, and still full of passion. But there is something else in his eyes now, something more primal.

As you run your hands over his chest, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

"You remember the photoshoot?" He asks, his voice dropping an octave, thick with teasing.

You nod, recalling how you teased him, how close he has been to losing control. It drove him to push himself, to go all out in the race, all for this moment.

"You told me to be patient," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Did I do good?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel the heat rising between you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something more than just triumphant—they are clouded with desire, a need that has been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed after the intensity of the race.

As your hands roam lower, tracing the firm lines of his abdomen and then lower still, you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, straining against the damp fabric of his suit. 

He groans softly at your touch, his hands moving up your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends goosebumps racing down your arm.

"Charles," you whisper, feeling the tension rising between you, your breath catching in your throat as his hands slide further down your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

You feel every inch of him through the fabric, and the way his body responds to yours makes your heart race.

His lips hover just inches from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of sweat and champagne adding to the heady atmosphere.

"This... is what I wanted," he murmurs again, his voice low and husky. "To celebrate with you... properly... like this."

His words send a wave of heat through you, and you can't resist the pull any longer.

Your hands roam over his body, feeling the firmness of his muscles through the soaked suit, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin. Charles is all yours in this moment, and you can feel how much he wants this—how much he wants you.

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is hungry and full of need, the tension between you finally snapping.

The intensity of the moment, the high of his victory, the heat of your desire—it all blends together in a whirlwind of sensation.

As you pull apart, the heat still lingering between you, Charles' eyes gleam with mischief. His voice drops into that familiar, teasing tone.

"I still can't believe you made me wait; how badly I wanted you then," he smirks, letting his words sink in before adding, "I want you even more now."

The way he looks at you, the hunger in his eyes, sends a wave of desire through your body. He leans in closer, and in a teasing voice he asks, "Do you want to help me change?"

It's clear from the look on his face what he is really asking, and you feel your heart race in anticipation.

Without saying a word, you reach out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his damp racing suit. Slowly, you trace the patterns of his suit to the zipper before pulling it down inch by agonizing inch.

His eyes follow your hand, the tension in his body rising with every slow movement of the zipper.

When it finally reaches his waist, you feel him exhale deeply, as if releasing the last bit of control he had left. The tight, soaked red Nomex shirt underneath is revealed, clinging to every contour of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

His breath hitches as you drag your fingers over the damp fabric, feeling the ridges of his abs and the strength in his pecs.

Charles peels the upper half of his suit down easily, leaving the vibrant red Nomex on display for you. The shirt is plastered to his skin, highlighting every muscle, every curve. 

You can't help but reach out again, your fingers moving slowly yet firmly over his chest, his arms, and his biceps. His body responds immediately, muscles flexing beneath your touch as he lets out a deep, satisfied growl, his lips parting with each breath.

He is still buzzing with adrenaline, his body on fire from the high of the race and the intense emotions of the day. 

You can feel it in the way his muscles tense and relax under your fingers, the way he sighs with each stroke, his body betraying just how much he is still running on that post-race energy.

His nipples are visible through the tight fabric, and as you brush over them with your thumb, Charles lets out a deep groan.

You lean in closer, your voice soft but teasing. "Do you like that?" You ask, knowing full well the answer.

He nods slowly, his eyes locking onto yours with a longing that sends shivers down your spine. His scent is intoxicating, stronger now—sweat, champagne, and the raw, musky scent of him, intensified by the closeness between you.

Every breath feels electric, the tension in the air growing thicker.

Without breaking eye contact, he casually slips out of his shoes, all while running his hands over his own body, his fingers lingering over the bulge in his suit. He strokes himself slowly, teasingly, knowing full well the effect it has on you. 

His gaze never leaves yours; the confidence in his posture and the way he moves is undeniable.

You can't resist the temptation any longer.

You bite your lower lip, feeling the heat building between you, and you reach out to stroke his arousal. The fabric is soaked, clinging tightly to his body, and he lets out another growl as your hand moves over him.

His hips push forward into your touch, and the sound that rumbles from deep within his throat makes your pulse quicken.

You tease him lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "You seem pretty worked up," you say, your voice full of affection but also amusement.

His eyes darken, and a growl escapes him again, the sound low and deep. 

"You have no idea," he replies, his voice rough with desire, his hands gripping your hips as if to steady himself.

The tension is electric; each touch, each glance makes it harder to resist the pull you both feel toward each other.

Charles is on edge, his body responsive to every move you make, and you feel just how badly he wants more.

"I loved watching you drive today," you whisper, your voice soft but filled with admiration. "Every corner, every lap... you were incredible."

As you speak, you let your hand trail over his chest again, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin fabric.

You know how much he loves hearing the praise, how it fuels him, and you feel his body react, his muscles tensing at your words.

His breath hitches, and you hear his accent slipping through more than usual—that familiar richness in his voice that always comes out when he is horny.

It makes your heart race every time, the way his words sound so much more intimate, more raw, in moments like this.

Even though you both already know the effect you have on each other, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his stubble lightly grazing your skin, and sending a shiver down your spine.

"I need you so much," he murmurs, his voice low, rough with desire. 

Charles grinds his hips against the palm of your hand, the pressure building, making it impossible to ignore how much he craves your touch, craves you.

His words are heavy with longing, and you can feel just how on edge he is, his restraint slipping with every passing second.

You bite your lip, teasing him further, your fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his racing suit. He groans, his body pushing into your touch, desperate for more.

You grab his length firmly, feeling the heat through the damp fabric, and he lets out another low growl, his hips grinding into your hand in response.

His entire body is relishing the sensation, every breath deep, every movement deliberate as he soaks in the pleasure of your touch. His fingers dig into your hips slightly, pulling you in even closer, as if he can't stand to be apart from you for even a moment.

As you stroke Charles' arousal, you can't help but recall the earlier teasing during the photoshoot. The way his body was on the verge of release, his mind flooded with desire, yet he was patient.

Holding back for you, for this moment. He has done well, he's been nothing but good.

"You were such a good boy back then," you murmur, your voice dripping with affection and amusement as you run a hand over him, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

At your words, Charles whimpers softly, his composure slipping for just a second before he tries to regain control, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You can see the effort it takes him to hold back, to stay grounded in the teasing instead of giving in to the desire that is still growing.

After a moment, you step back from him, creating a tantalizing distance between you. 

You walk over to the sofa in the middle of the room, letting the silence stretch, knowing that he is watching every movement you make. Sitting down slowly, you cross your legs and lean back, gazing at him with a playful smirk as you motion for him to join you with a teasing curl of your finger.

Charles runs a hand across his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that fell into his eyes. His other hand stayed firmly on his bulge, pressing down as if to contain his arousal, but the way his fingers flex shows just how much he is enjoying the pressure.

There is a hint of swagger in his step as he makes his way over to you, his eyes dark and hungry, but with that same playful glint.

When he reaches the sofa, Charles climbs on top of you with a slow, deliberate movement, his body hovering over yours. You lean back, sinking into the plush cushions, letting him take control of the space between you. 

His presence feels all-encompassing, his body warm and powerful above you, and you feel the tension crackling in the air.

You reach up, tugging the edge of his damp red Nomex shirt just enough to slip your hand underneath. His skin is warm to the touch, slightly damp from sweat and the remnants of the race, but impossibly smooth.

He sighs deeply at the sensation of your fingers brushing against his bare skin, his body reacting instantly.

"Your hands are cold," he breathes, his voice a playful complaint as he leans down closer to you, his breath hot against your neck.

But even as he says it, you hear the enjoyment in his voice, the way his body shudders slightly at the cool contrast of your touch against his heated skin.

You smirk up at him, refusing to stop. "You'll get used to it," you reply, your tone just as teasing as you drag your fingers up the length of his torso, feeling his muscles tense and contract under your touch.

Charles groans softly, his head dipping closer to yours as his body presses down against you. The weight of him feels perfect—a mix of strength and desire, his form enveloping you.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he breathes deeply, clearly reveling in the feeling, in the attention you're giving him.

"You have no idea how hard it is to wait," he murmurs, his accent thick as he opens his eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

There is a fire in his eyes, a desire that has been simmering all day, and now it is dangerously close to boiling over.

His lips hover just inches from yours, his body taut with anticipation. The teasing, the tension—it all makes the moment even more electrifying.

Charles wants more, and you feel the pull, but part of you enjoys keeping him on edge, savoring every second of his longing.

His hand slips down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he adjusts his position slightly, pressing the arousal against you again. You feel the heat, the urgency, but still, you tease, your fingers playing over his skin, moving slowly and deliberately, letting the moment stretch.

"Patience... just a little longer," you whisper, echoing the words you told him during the photoshoot. And just like before, you see the way they affect him—the way his muscles tense with the effort of holding back.

Charles lets out a low groan, his head dropping to your shoulder as he breathes deeply, his self-control clearly hanging by a thread.

But he loves it—loves the tease, loves the chase, loves the way the tension between you only makes the eventual release all the more intense.

You run a hand down again, between his legs, across his length and smile. "You're nearly there, huh?" You tease, the smirk on your lips growing as he leans back slightly, giving you a full view of the desire burning in his eyes.

He lets out a low groan in response, his frustration mixing with pleasure.

Gently, you reach up and caress his cheek, your thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you see the tension in his expression, the way his body is aching for a release.

Your fingers trace his jawline, through his stubble, and across his lips. They are soft, warm as you trail their outline gently.

He swallows hard, his gaze shifting between your hand and your eyes.

"I think you've been patient enough, don't you think?" You tease, pressing down softly on his lower lip so they part slightly.

Without a word, Charles leans down and captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The intensity of it sends shivers through your body, his lips soft but demanding as they move against yours. 

You respond immediately, your fingers sliding over his chest, feeling the taut muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric.

He tastes of champagne and something sweet, his scent intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As your bodies press closer, you feel one of his hands move down to the waistband of your jeans. His fingers work deftly, unbuttoning them with ease, and the sensation of his touch makes you giggle softly against his lips.

He smirks at the sound, the playful energy between you only adding to the excitement of the moment.

You embrace his touch, letting him continue, your body responding to the way his hands move over you. His kisses grow deeper, more insistent, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, his need palpable in the way he touches you.

Your hand finds its way to his back, sliding beneath the shirt to feel the smooth, damp skin there, and Charles shudders slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping him.

"Give me a moment," he asks as he pulls away from you, his breathing still heavy.

You nod, your eyes never leaving him as he gets off you and stands beside the sofa. He reaches for the zipper of his racing suit and, with deliberate slowness, slides it down the rest of the way, the fabric falling to his thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the material drop, revealing his tight red fireproof underpants beneath. The fabric clings to every inch of him, outlining his arousal unmistakably, and he grabs hismelf, his eyes dark with longing as he gazes at you.

For a moment, he simply stands there, letting the tension build before he takes his shirt and pants off in one smooth motion, leaving his body gloriously exposed, save for the fitted boxers that hug his muscular frame.

The sight of him takes your breath away—his skin still glistening from the race, muscles defined and flexing slightly as he moves. 

He looks perfect, and the way he watches you, knowing the effect he has, makes it all the more intoxicating.

Charles smiles faintly, stepping closer and reaching for you, his hands warm as they slide under your shirt. In one fluid motion, he helps you lift it off, leaving you in your bra from your waist up. Effortlessly, he unhooks it, and you watch it slide off your skin, leaving you bare.

His eyes linger on your skin before he climbs back on top of you, pressing his body against yours. The heat of his skin against you is electric, and for a moment, you simply grind against each other, the friction sending shivers down your spine.

Charles lets out a low, breathy moan as he moves against you, and you can feel his arousal pressing harder, making the anticipation all the more unbearable.

Your heart races as he reaches down, his hands steady and sure as he pulls your jeans and underwear down, one after another, exposing you completely.

His touch is both gentle and insistent, and your body responds to him instinctively, craving more. He shifts for a second, his own boxers sliding down as he removes the last barrier between you. 

Your eyes take in every inch of him—his beautiful body, toned and flushed, every muscle defined. 

Then, with one fluid movement, Charles positions himself above you again, his gaze locking with yours. There is a moment of stillness, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the desire heavy in the air between you.

And then, with a deep, breathy sigh, he slips inside you, your bodies finally coming together in a way that feels inevitable and perfect.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure, relief, and pure connection. Charles groans softly, his forehead resting against yours as he moves, his breath ragged with need.

You move together, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the moment, every sensation heightened by the buildup of tension. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you feel the heat of his body against yours, his skin damp and warm as he rocks into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, and the way he moves—so focused, so in tune with you—makes it all the more intense.

"God, you feel so good," he breathes against your ear, his voice rough and filled with need. His accent slips through again, that familiar sound making your heart race even more as he presses deeper, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours.

You hold on to him, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves.

Every inch of him is perfect, his body responding to yours in a way that feels almost instinctive, and you can feel the passion between you building, growing with each movement.

Charles' breath is hot against your skin, his moans growing louder, more desperate, as you lose yourselves completely in the moment.

As your bodies reach their climax together, the intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless. 

Charles collapses gently on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath, face flushed with exertion and satisfaction. He kisses you softly, his lips tender against yours, his hands slowly caressing your cheek, still lost in the afterglow.

You feel his hand move to your chest, his touch light and affectionate, and you mirror the gesture, your fingers tracing along the defined muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth and strength still pulsing beneath his skin.

After a moment, you separate, both of you still catching your breath. You reach for your underwear and jeans, slipping them on slowly, your mind still replaying everything that just happened, savoring the memory.

As you finish dressing, you glance over at Charles, who is standing by the cupboard, already pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

He grabs a clean pair of boxers first, sliding them on effortlessly before following up with his jeans.

You can't help but admire the view, watching him as he moves with that natural grace, his body so familiar to you yet always captivating. Your gaze lingers on him, and he notices, a playful smile spreading across his lips as he catches you watching.

"Like what you see, huh?" he teases, his voice low and full of amusement.

He runs a hand deliberately across his chest, tracing the muscles with his fingers before letting his hand slip down to his crotch, making sure you notice his playful little act.

You smile at his teasing, the way he always seems to know exactly how to make your heart race.

"I do," you admit with a smirk.

Your eyes drift to his racing suit still lying on the floor; the fabric crumpled where he stepped out of it. The sight brings back memories of earlier—how stunning he looked in it, how much you admired him.

"You look so beautiful in that suit," you add softly, gesturing to it.

His expression softens at your words, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

Without saying a word, he approaches you, closing the distance between you. His hands are gentle as he helps you clasp your bra, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusts the straps.

Once he is done, he steps back slightly and reaches for one of his black Ferrari shirts, the one he had worn earlier in the day, and hands it to you with a warm smile.

"Here, wear this," he says, his voice low and affectionate. You can tell he loves seeing you in his clothes; the way the shirt hangs loosely on your frame, a reminder of how close you are.

And you love wearing his clothes, especially when he recently wore them, due to his cologne, his unique scent, clinging to the fabric.

As you pull the shirt over your head, you catch the way he is still looking at you—the same playful yet adoring gaze that always makes your heart skip a beat.

"You really think I looked that good in the suit?" he asks, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. 

"You looked incredible, Charles," you reply honestly. "You always do. But something about that suit... it's like it was made for you."

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with the praise.

"Well, I guess I have to keep it then, for you," he teases before leaning down to pick up his discarded clothes from the floor. You join him, helping gather pieces of his racing attire, folding the suit carefully in your hands.

Together, you tidy up the room, both of you moving easily around each other in the comfortable silence that comes from knowing someone deeply.

After you finish, Charles comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You know," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I think winning today wasn't even the best part of my day."

You smile, leaning back into his embrace.

"Oh? What was the best part then?"

He kisses your cheek softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

"This. Being with you."

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 5

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 2.6k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is not an idiot anymore. not descriptive sex but there’s sex. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​@ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear r , @lixisoul99 , @cherrylovescheol , @yuyu1024 , @tacolombe , @black-swan-blog27 , @tulipndtale , @xuimhao , @cookiearmy , @gyuguys , @brownbunnyb

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The opulent Grand Palais glittered under the Parisian night sky, its glass dome reflecting the stars above and the flashing cameras below. Paris Fashion Week was in full swing, and tonight's show was the most anticipated of the season. Mingyu adjusted his designer suit for the umpteenth time, still somewhat uncomfortable in the world of high fashion. But as the face of several luxury brands and with HHT's growing influence in the industry, his presence here was inevitable.

As he made his way down the red carpet, Mingyu couldn't help but feel a sense of unreality. Five years ago, he never would have imagined himself here, rubbing shoulders with the elite of the fashion world. The flashing lights and calls from photographers were familiar, but the context was all wrong. He was used to stages and concert venues, not runways and fashion shows.

"Mingyu! Over here!" "Kim Mingyu, who are you wearing tonight?" "Mingyu, is it true HHT is collaborating with Chanel for your next comeback?"

He answered the questions with practiced ease, his idol smile firmly in place. But inside, his stomach churned with anticipation. He knew she would be here tonight. Y/N. The woman he'd never quite gotten over, despite years of distance and silence.

As he entered the grand hall, Mingyu's eyes scanned the crowd. A mix of celebrities, designers, and industry insiders milled about, their chatter creating a low hum that filled the space. He nodded at a few familiar faces, exchanged pleasantries with a designer he'd worked with recently. But his attention was divided, always searching.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N stood across the room, and the sight of her knocked the breath from Mingyu's lungs. She was radiant in a sleek, black gown that shimmered with every movement, its high slit offering tantalizing glimpses of her leg. Her hair, longer than he remembered, was swept up in an elegant updo, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She was engaged in conversation with a group of admirers, her laugh carrying across the space. The sound made Mingyu's heart skip a beat, just as it had all those years ago.

For a moment, Mingyu forgot how to breathe. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, more poised, more confident. This wasn't the Y/N he'd known as HHT's manager. This was Y/N the successful entrepreneur, the fashion icon, the woman who had taken the beauty world by storm with her perfumes and skincare line.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up. Their eyes met across the crowded room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter faded away, the flashing lights dimmed. There was only Y/N, her eyes wide with recognition, a small gasp escaping her perfectly painted lips.

Mingyu watched, his heart pounding, as Y/N excused herself from her group and made her way towards him. Each step she took seemed to last an eternity. He felt rooted to the spot, his pulse quickening with every click of her heels on the marble floor.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice soft but clear above the ambient chatter. "It's been a while."

Hearing her say his name again after so long sent a shiver down Mingyu's spine. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Y/N," he breathed, drinking in the sight of her. "You look... amazing."

A slight blush colored her cheeks, and Mingyu was struck by how familiar that look was. For a moment, he saw a flash of the Y/N he used to know, the one who would get flustered when he complimented her backstage after a show.

"Thank you," she said, her composure quickly returning. "You're not looking too bad yourself. I see the fashion world has embraced you."

Mingyu chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More like they've tolerated me. I still feel a bit out of place at these things."

"Could have fooled me," Y/N replied with a small smile. "You look like you belong here."

They fell into an awkward silence, years of unspoken words hanging between them. Mingyu's mind raced, trying to find the right thing to say. Should he mention her perfume? Ask about her business? Apologize for the years of distance?

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Congratulations on 'Solène.' It's... quite a name."

Y/N's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. Was it sadness? Regret? Or was he just projecting his own feelings onto her? "Thank you," she said after a moment. "I heard 'Shadow' is topping charts worldwide. Seems we're both doing well for ourselves."

The tension was palpable. Mingyu was about to speak, to say something, anything to break through the wall of politeness between them, when a waiter approached with a tray of champagne. They both reached for a glass, their fingers brushing momentarily. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through them both, and Mingyu saw Y/N's eyes widen slightly at the contact.

"To success," Y/N said, raising her glass, her voice slightly breathless.

"To old friends," Mingyu countered, clinking his glass against hers. He held her gaze as they drank, searching for any sign that she felt the same turmoil he did.

As the night wore on, Mingyu found himself gravitating towards Y/N again and again. They made small talk with other guests, posed for photos, applauded the runway shows. But always, his eyes would seek her out in the crowd, and more often than not, he'd find her looking back.

One drink led to another, and soon they found themselves slipping away from the main event, seeking a quieter spot to catch up. They ended up in a secluded balcony overlooking the Parisian skyline, the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Y/N said, leaning against the railing. The soft breeze played with a few loose strands of her hair, and Mingyu had to resist the urge to tuck them behind her ear.

"Yeah," he agreed, though his eyes were fixed on her profile rather than the view. "Beautiful."

Y/N turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips. "You're not even looking at the skyline, are you?"

Caught, Mingyu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Can you blame me? The view right here is much more captivating."

Y/N laughed, the sound sending warmth spreading through Mingyu's chest. "Still the smooth talker, I see. Some things never change."

"Some things do," Mingyu said softly. "You've changed. You seem... happier. More confident."

Y/N's smile softened. "I am. This life, this career... it's everything I ever wanted." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "What about you, Mingyu? Are you happy?"

The question caught him off guard. Was he happy? He had fame, fortune, adoring fans. HHT was more successful than ever. But standing here with Y/N, he realized there had always been something missing.

"I thought I was," he admitted. "But seeing you again... I'm not so sure anymore."

The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Y/N took a step closer, close enough that Mingyu could smell her perfume – "Barely Yours," he realized with a start.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did we let so much time pass? Why did we stop talking?"

Mingyu's heart raced. This was it, the moment he'd both longed for and dreaded. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I guess we both got caught up in our own worlds. It was easier to focus on work than to face... whatever this is between us."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I've missed this," she said softly. "I've missed you."

Those words broke something in Mingyu. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, cupping Y/N's face in his hands. "I've missed you too," he whispered. "So much."

Their lips met in a kiss that was five years in the making. It was soft at first, tentative, both of them unsure. But then Y/N's arms wound around Mingyu's neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened. Years of pent-up emotion and desire poured out, leaving them both breathless and wanting more.

When they finally broke apart, Mingyu rested his forehead against Y/N's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment. "What are we doing?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Y/N's fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't want to stop."

Mingyu pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. "Y/N, I-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Not here," she said. "My hotel is just around the corner. We can... talk there."

The implication in her words was clear. Mingyu swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Are you sure?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady despite the flush on her cheeks. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The walk to Y/N's hotel was a blur. Mingyu was hyper-aware of her hand in his, of the way her dress shimmered under the streetlights, of the anticipation building with each step. They barely made it into the elevator before he was kissing her again, pressing her against the mirrored wall as her hands fumbled with his tie.

As the hotel room door closed behind them, Mingyu felt his heart racing. He couldn't believe he was here, with Y/N, after all this time. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light across her features, making her look almost ethereal.

"Y/N," he breathed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

In response, Y/N stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. She placed a hand on his chest, and Mingyu was sure she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she whispered, echoing her words from earlier.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and thrillingly new. Mingyu's hands found their way to Y/N's waist, pulling her closer. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, igniting memories of stolen moments from years past.

As they made their way towards the bed, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of surreality. Here he was, with the woman he'd never quite gotten over, the one who had haunted his dreams and inspired countless songs. His fingers trembled slightly as he unzipped her dress, revealing smooth skin that he'd thought he'd never touch again.

"You're shaking," Y/N murmured, her eyes searching his.

Mingyu let out a shaky laugh. "I just... I can't believe this is real. That you're here, that we're..."

Y/N silenced him with another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "It's real," she assured him between kisses. "We're real."

As clothing fell away and they tumbled onto the bed, Mingyu took a moment to simply look at Y/N. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, her body a canvas of soft curves and elegant lines. He traced a finger along her collarbone, marveling at the way she shivered at his touch.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you so much."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I've missed you too, Mingyu. More than you know."

What followed was a rediscovery of each other, a dance of passion and tenderness. Mingyu kissed every inch of skin he could reach, relearning the map of Y/N's body. Her sighs and soft moans were music to his ears, more beautiful than any song he'd ever written.

As they moved together, Mingyu felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions. This was more than just physical attraction; it was a reconnection of souls that had been apart for far too long. He poured years of longing, of regret, of unspoken love into every touch, every kiss.

"Y/N," he gasped as they neared their peak. "I lo-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head slightly. "Not now," she whispered. "Just feel."

And so he did, losing himself in the moment, in the warmth of Y/N's embrace, in the perfection of their bodies moving as one.

Afterwards, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Mingyu traced lazy patterns on Y/N's bare shoulder. The reality of what had just happened was starting to sink in, bringing with it a mix of elation and uncertainty.

"What happens now?" he asked softly, voicing the question that hung heavily in the air.

Y/N was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "But can we... can we just have this moment? Before the real world comes crashing back in?"

Mingyu nodded, pulling her closer. As Y/N's breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep, Mingyu remained awake, his mind racing. He knew that morning would bring complications, questions, and possibly regrets. But for now, he allowed himself to simply be, holding the woman he loved in his arms, savoring a moment he'd thought would never come again.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the hotel room windows, rousing Mingyu from a deep sleep. For a moment, he was disoriented, but then the events of the previous night came rushing back. He turned to find Y/N still asleep beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow, her face peaceful in repose.

As he watched her sleep, a mix of emotions washed over him. Joy at their reunion, confusion about what this meant for their future, and a lingering fear that this might be nothing more than a one-night trip down memory lane. But underlying it all was a sense of rightness, as if a missing piece of himself had finally clicked back into place.

Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Mingyu, a soft smile spread across her face. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," he replied, his heart swelling with affection.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the weight of their actions settling over them. There was no going back now. The question was, where did they go from here?

As the bustling sounds of Paris waking up filtered through the window, Mingyu knew they had a lot to talk about. The shadows of their past and the echoes of their promises hung in the air, waiting to be addressed. But looking at Y/N, seeing the warmth in her eyes and the soft curve of her smile, Mingyu felt a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever complications their night together might bring, Mingyu knew one thing for certain: he wasn't letting Y/N slip away again. They had been given a second chance, and this time, he was determined to get it right.

"Y/N," he said softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "I think... I think we need to talk."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "I know. But first..." She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Thank you for last night. For everything."

Mingyu loses his smile when Y/N seems to get ready to leave.

[taylorswiftstyle]

Out and about | New York City, NY | September 6, 2024

Undress Code 'No Promises Bodysuit' - $159.00 Louis Vuitton 'Coussin BB Bag' - $4,150.00 The Row 'Classic Leather Belt' - $590.00 Louis Vuitton 'Donna High Boot' - $2,760.00

If I had to describe my own personal fashion wheelhouse, I would say it sits closer to neutrals and classic/polished cuts. An outfit that involves all black, a blazer, and boots? Sign me up! While in my own life I ordinarily wouldn’t reach for a mesh bodysuit … on a NYC date night - I’ll accept it. Encourage it, even! The sheer quality of this bodysuit actually reminds me of the Tortured Poets cover and how those clothes communicated a feeling of powerful, sensual, and raw vulnerability. An ownership over something intimate. Choosing what exactly to make public and what to keep a little veiled. This new-to-her brand also represents two of her signature style pillars: the high/low and indie designers. This is when Taylor will mix high end brands with more accessibly priced pieces (often from smaller, lesser-known labels like this Polish brand whose cheeky name references their predominantly sheer offerings that largely centers on lingerie and bodysuits) for an inspirational/attainable blend. 

Taylor has often gone back to an all black look for dinner nights out. And who can blame her. I lean on all black all the time when I want to feel polished and chic. Texturally, I thought this was a really well-played outfit. The differences in material and feel prevent an all black look from feeling too one-note. Between the mesh of the top, the silk of the blazer, and the embossing of the bag and boots the outfit has tons of movement and interest. Even all using the same colour! And in terms of metallic styling, there’s a motif of gold in all her hardware that keeps things cohesive.

Illustration by Amelia Noyes

[nyc-looks]

Ariel, 25

“The seashell bikini and cake hat are by me, slip dress and most jewelry are thrifted, shoes are Simone Rocha (my fav), handbag and gloves Gucci, and pink fishnets from Trashy Lingerie in LA. My style is inspired by embracing all of the unapologetically feminine and creative parts of myself. All of my favorite incorporate pieces I make myself. Although maybe not always immediately evident, my main fashion inspiration is Lady Gaga because I love how she always goes for it, mixes what is considered ’high’ and ’low’ fashion, and is constantly reinventing her style. And of course fierce New Yorkers like Kristen Bateman!”

Sep 6, 2023 ∙ Midtown

[genderfluid-insomniac]

So, like yeah sex can be emotional and loving, and like a deep connection between 2 people, however, sometimes you just gotta get dicked down hard enough you forget your own name as like a personal thing. Can I get a Macaque x reader thing of that? (Top Mac)

A/N: Alright! cracks knuckles Time to do some old-fashioned smut, my specialty and something I have way too many ideas for being an asexual who really likes writing NSFW things.

Getting Dicked Down //: Macaque x reader NSFW

“Aww, poor baby. Do you want me to take care of it for you?” Macaque cooed at you as you panted and whined because of yet another orgasm you could’ve had if it wasn’t for the bastard in front of you who’s edged you for two hours now. A harsh thrust broke you out of your thoughts, moaning loudly at the feeling of his cock hitting that sweet spot and arching your back. You closed your eyes and babbled out pleas begging your lover to let you cum, rolling your body to get some pleasure of any kind and getting stopped by his hands gripping your hips. “Uh-Uh. Do you want to be edged for another hour or do wanna be good and ask me nicely for me to fuck you?”

He whispered in a low deep voice next to your ear and adored how he made your body shiver in anticipation. You willed your mind to speak clearly enough and hoped you would finally be able to cum, feeling full with his dick inside you but craving the high of climaxing. “Please let me cum! Please Macaque- ngh~ Fuck me!” You cried out and ignored the hot stray tears that dripped down your cheeks much to your boyfriend’s delight. “That’s more like it. My obedient little slut~” He said slyly and started to fuck you at an inhuman pace, leaving you crying out lewd moans and sobs.

“Please don’t stop” You cried. His cock slammed in and out of your aching hole whilst he groaned and spoke praises of how good you were taking his cock. You sensed the familiar warmth pool in your core and teasingly let the wave of pleasure crest before feeling it crash down on you. “There we go~ Cum for me!” Macaque groaned and felt himself orgasm, fucking his cum back into you before slowly pulling out, seeing your cum mixed with his leaking out and staining the bedsheets below you. “I hope you don’t think we’re done. I’m going to fuck you stupid till the only thing you can think of is my name.” He whispered.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Prompt || Reader and Bucky booking a hotel for a lazy romantic weekend, most of which they spend naked. Bucky decides that they feel too comfortable to want to get up and go out for food, so Reader decides to order out for them and get dressed enough to meet the delivery person at the door. While Reader is accepting the order, Bucky wraps up in a sheet and comes up behind them, smug as both Reader and the delivery person become flustered. — Requested by @weekendgothgirl

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count || Around 1300

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mature content/language, implied nudity and sex.

Random prompt event || Masterlist

Paris—The City of Love. It had always been the obvious choice for a romantic honeymoon with your husband, Bucky. From the moment you arrived, you spent your days exploring the city’s wonders—taking walks along the Seine River, and visiting Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe. Bucky also indulged in your love for fashion by taking you on shopping trips in the high-end districts, splurging on all the most luxurious brands.

But it was the evenings that truly took your breath away. Bucky arranged private tours of the Louvre, allowing you to marvel at the beautiful artworks, such as the stunning Mona Lisa, in intimate privacy. And to end the night, you would have a romantic candlelit dinner with a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower as you indulged in delicious French cuisine.

As you were coming to the end of your picturesque honeymoon, you retreated to your hotel suite and spent the last few days in each other’s arms—naked. Exploring not just the city but each other's bodies and souls as well. You reveled in each other’s loving presence and touch—kissing, cuddling, and making passionate love. And when you weren’t lost in the burning passion, you engaged in deep, meaningful conversations that lasted for hours on end, expressing your intense love and commitment to each other.

As the sun began to peek through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow, you stirred awake slowly in the embrace of your husband’s arms and the silky sheets. You snuggled further into his warmth, contenting a sigh as your mind filled with the previous night of sex—your body still lingered with pleasure. You inhaled his aroma, a mix of his cologne and natural musk. It filled you with comfort and safety, and you never wanted to leave the haven of the bed.

Bucky was already awake. Humming a soft melody as his fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your eyes and met his gaze. His ones swam deep with love and adoration for his wife.

“Morning, ma chérie,” Bucky murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand before trailing them up your arm.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the term of endearment, so fitting for the current circumstances. “Morning, James,” you replied.

He pulled you even closer. Your naked bodies pressed tightly together. His nose brushed with yours as a smile tugged on his lips. “So, what do you want to do today, my love? A walk? Shopping? A romantic boat ride down the river? Or, is there perhaps something else you have in mind?” A twinkle of desire shone in the depths of his blues as he uttered that last part.

You nibbled on your bottom lip as your fingers tangled behind his neck. Your lips brushed delicately with his as you spoke in a low, sultry voice. “Hmm, I have a plan. It involves you and me naked in this bed. And, that thing you did last night.”

“Is that so,” he hummed with an intriguing eyebrow.

Your lips met in a fiery kiss, each ragged breath mingling with the other as it deepened. The passion was intense as you clung to one another, lost in the moment. But just as the kiss reached its peak, there was a knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice announcing room service.

You both pulled away with a frustrated groan. You had completely forgotten that you’d ordered breakfast late in the night for the following day. Although your appetite was mostly for Bucky at the moment, you could really use some food in your system.

“I’ll go get it,” Bucky offered as he began to rise from the bed.

But you stopped him with your palm pressed against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. “No, you stay here. For once, I want to come back and find you naked in bed,” you teased, winking at him. The smirk on his face let you know he wouldn’t protest at that.

He gave you a light tap on the ass as you got up and reached for his white button-down shirt on the floor. You put it on, and it covered the most intimate parts of your body but left little to the imagination.

As you walked out into the living room and then the wide entrance, you opened the suite door, and a man with two metal push trays stood on the other end. His eyes widened at the sight of your barely-covered form, but he quickly regained his professionalism.

“Room service, madame,” he spoke in a French accent.

“Thank you, please come in,” you responded and gestured with your hand for him to enter.

As he wheeled the trolleys into the vast living room, he tried his best to avert his gaze from your tempting body while arranging the plates, cutlery, and food on the dining table.

You were impatient for him to leave as you longed to return to the real feast that was waiting in the other room.

But before you could make a move, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You could feel Bucky’s toned physique and hardening cock against you through the silky fabric of his robe. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine, which were followed by a trail of fiery kisses across your skin that elicited a moan from you.

You melted into his embrace as your body hummed with need and desire. Bucky’s hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of your figure. You arched into his touch as his erotic whispers, and skilled fingers ignited sparks of passion through your nerves, making you moan and whimper softly.

The room service attendant cleared his throat, pulling you back into reality with a gasp. You flushed hot, embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment.

Bucky, on the other hand, was amused by the situation. His actions were deliberate in letting the man know who you belonged to.

“I think we should let him do his job, ma chérie.” Bucky chuckled against your ear as he spoke.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Bucky, adjusting your shirt to a more appropriate state. The man remained professional, but the embarrassment in his eyes was evident as he stared at the two of you.

“Thank you,” you said, trying to keep your composure. “We’ll take it from here.”

The man nodded before quickly turning on his heels and making his way out of the suite, closing the door behind him.

You turned to a chuckling and amused Bucky as a mix of embarrassment and desire coursed through you.

“Oh god, that was so fucking awkward. Sorry about that,” you said, biting your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment from your face, but Bucky saw right through it, his eyes dark with desire.

“Don’t be, doll. I love it when you lose yourself in my touch. I love it when you can’t keep quiet for me,” he uttered with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Your fault. You started it.”

He pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours. “And I plan on finishing it,” he murmured, before capturing your lips in a needy kiss, leading you back to the silky bed for a second round of the thing he had done to you the previous night. The food could wait till later, after all.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Under the Sun and Secrets~Pope Heyward

Warning: +18, smut, english is not my first language.

The sun shone high over the Outer Banks, illuminating the turquoise sea that gently crashed against the beach. You, a kook with your shiny hair and perfect tan, were with your friends, talking about fashion and gossip. Laughter mixed with the sound of the waves, but your attention was elsewhere.

Pope Heyward, a pogue with a serious and determined demeanor, was fishing a short distance away. His muscles were taut beneath his shirt, and the way he focused on his task made your heart race. Despite the differences between your worlds, you felt an irresistible connection with him.

After a few chance encounters on the beach, your conversations became more frequent. Every glance, every word exchanged, increased the tension between you. One afternoon, as you walked along the shore, Pope stopped and looked you in the eyes.

"You’re different from the others," he said, a mischievous smile on his face. "In a good way, I mean."

You blushed, knowing how forbidden your feelings were. "And you’re more than just a pogue," you replied, your heart racing.

Your relationship with Pope had become a well-kept secret. Your meetings grew more frequent, away from the curious gazes of the kooks and the prejudices of the pogues. One afternoon, under a starlit sky, you found yourselves on a deserted beach. The waves whispered softly, and the atmosphere was charged with tension.

"I can’t believe we’re here," Pope said, his voice low and intense. "And yet, it feels so right."

You moved closer, your heart pounding as your gazes met. Without thinking twice, you kissed him. It was sweet and intense, a moment you wished you could capture forever.

You and Pope continued to kiss as you began to straddle him as you began kissing intensely.

“you are so beautiful y/n” Pope said softly as he slid his hands up your hips and you felt your heart pounding with the feelings you had for him. You started to move on him to tease him and he groaned as he squeezed your hips. You watched as you took off his shirt and took off your shirt too, leaving your bikini on display and he groaned when you began to lower your head to his neck and began to suck and kiss the skin of his neck.

“y/n” Pope moaned and you smiled into his neck “shh relax” you told him as you started to move on him again while feeling how hard his cock was. You both moaned as you felt your privates clashing with every move and he started playing with the button of your shorts as he took them off along with your panties and you took off his trousers. When you took off his boxers you moaned when you saw how big and hard his cock was.

“you are so big” you told him and lowered your head onto his cock as you continued to make little licks and give little kisses to his cock tip as you started moving your right hand up his shaft. You slowly eased his cock into your mouth as he moaned your name and rested a hand on your silky hair.

You started to push your hips feeling that he was coming and you encouraged him to come by touching his balls and trying to take more and more of his cock while he moaned loudly. “I'm coming y/n” he warned you and you increased your licking and sucking and he came hard in your mouth. He closed his eyes trying to catch his breath while still with his hand on your head stroking your hair.

When he reopened his eyes he pulled you back onto his lap, straddling you again and you felt your privates touching as you kissed again. You raised your hips a little as you aligned yourself with Pope's cock as you slowly went down and sighed feeling it too big and wide. In the meantime, Pope caressed your hips, sighing softly.

"So good at taking my cock, baby. You're almost halfway to taking it all," Pope said as he continued to rub your hips to encourage you. You whimpered and closed your eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths and relaxing.

Pope couldn't help but look down between your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear into your tight heat. “You're almost there baby” he said in a low voice due to his arousal. When he finally bottomed out, you let out a moan of pain and he closed his eyes, trying not to go too fast already. “Such a good girl . You're doing so well, darling." He murmured softly, leaning down to kiss you softly.

You shifted slightly as you moved trying to get proper footing as you leaned on his shoulders. You began to take slow, gentle breaths as you began to move slowly while trying to adjust to his length. He groaned feeling how your pussy was clenching around his cock.

“That's it. You're doing well love" He said encouraging you. His voice slow and deep. Every time you squeezed his cock he would close his eyes and bite the inside of his cheek as he tries to regulate his breathing. You moan softly against his bare chest, the his heat radiates from you as his fingers slowly caress your ass as he made relaxing circles on you While you were riding him you were looking at him while you were giving him those innocent eyes that you know full well he can't resist faster and he gave you a hand pushing his cock into you harder and that caused the sound of your skin slapping together and you moaned loudly as you screamed and moved more and more needy.

“please Pope, I want more” you begged him and he changed the position, making you put yourself underneath and him on top of you as he pushed you harder while you screamed and scratched his back while you couldn't form a coherent word .

“Your cock feels so good” you said whimpering as he groaned feeling your pussy squeezing him tighter and tighter knowing you were coming. Two more thrusts and he brought you to the edge as you moaned loudly. Pope raised his cock into your pussy and you whimpered at the lack of contact. He immediately flipped you over putting your ass in the area as he slammed his cock into you pushing you hard and you both moaned. Each of his thrusts gave you a slap in the ass that made you moan again and made you come again, for the second time while you tried to scratch something feeling too much pleasure. Pope was about to come, you knew it, you threw yourself back accompanying his thrusts while you continued to moan.

“Pope come inside me please” you said begging, hearing this he moaned and pushed himself harder inside you while taking some of your hair while pulling it and you moaned loudly while he with other thrusts came inside of you tea.

When he pulled out of you you both laid back down as you were both trying to catch your breath.

“best day of my life” you said making Pope chuckle as he kissed your forehead softly. You loved that boy.

[thesassypadawan]

Little Red Dress (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: The low cut little red dress and matching heels, they just drive Hayden wild. So much so that he can’t wait to get you home and…enjoy a little show.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Mirror sex and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: 🎉❤️A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @espinathena-17❤️🎉

- Tonight you had barely made it out of the house.

- The low cut little red dress and matching heels you wore got Hayden so worked up. So much, in fact, that it may or may not have led to a hot and heavy make out session. Which, in his opinion, was ‘rudely’ interrupted when you insisted that the two of you leave. So you wouldn’t be much more than fashionably late.

- All night long you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. His big hands always touching you in some way. Those long fingers trailing up your bare back…or along other places when no one was looking.

- Needless to say, Hay was very eager to get back home. So it comes as no surprise when you left the party extremely early and find yourself…

- With your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you, watching his cock slide into your pussy. Head falling back onto his broad shoulder, whimpering. “Haaaay.”

- He has you spread over him. Your legs flung wide over his as you sit on his lap. His deep blue eyes locked onto yours. “That’s it, angel; just like that,” he mutters into your ear. Staring intensely as you slowly rise yourself off his impressive length, then sink back down.

- Biting your bottom lip, you nuzzle into his cheek. His hot breath tickling your face. Small moans escaping you while you continue at your slow pace. “Big… So big…”

- You’re both still clothed. Hay in his sexy black suit and you in that damn dress. Which was pulled up so you both can enjoy the show.

- His hands glide up your thighs. One slips under your dress, resting on your stomach. The other finding your clit, rubbing gentle circles. “So big, huh? But you love it…love being so stuffed with my fat cock.”

- The sight of how his dick shines with your juices as you rise up. Coupled with the way your assets jiggle as you drop back down. Has low whines coming from your lips and you needing…

- “More… Need more…” Your hands grasp onto his arms. Hips begin to speed up, riding him harder.

- “More?” His voice rumbles through your body. His fingers increasing the pressure on your clit. Making you moan louder, walls clenching around his thick length. “I’ll give you more.”

- Shifting, Hay takes control. His hands rest on your waist, helping you set a harsher pace. Hips bucking up into yours, causing a wet slapping sound to fill the room. “Touch yourself for me. Want to see you play with that cute little pussy…those perfect tits,” he murmured, eyes gazing fiercely into yours.

- One hand slips to your clit, the second under your dress. Toying with your sensitive nubs has you panting. “Yes.. Whatever you want…”

- “Good girl… That’s my good girl…” His lips press against your neck. Sucking and nipping. Hitting that one sweet spot so perfectly. Sending sparks of pleasures down your spine, straight to your greedy cunt.

- The heat inside of you is becoming overwhelming, you’re so painfully close. Your fingers quicken, hips desperately slamming down onto his cock. “Gonna… Gonna…”

- Pulling away, he watches you closely. Eyes hungerly traveling the length of your body as your walls flutter around him…as you start clamping down harder…as you…

- Hay’s grip on your waist tightens. Teeth brush against your earlobe. “Cum,” he growls and forcefully thrusts up into you.

- Your moans and groans mix together as you both come completely undone. Him pumping your pussy full of his hot cum. You gushing all over his cock and suit pants.

- Coming back down from your high, your head tilts back. His dips down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “Hay,” you sigh softly, your mind still hazy.

- Grasping your jaw gently, he turns your head back to the mirror. Your eyes meet and he smirks. “Look at you, my little angel. Cumming so prettily on my cock. In fact you looked so good doing so…that I want to see it again.”

- Hayden then starts driving up into you once more. And all you can do in your post blissed out state is hold onto him, mewling helplessly. While he says oh so smugly, “Shouldn’t have worn that little red dress.”

[girlsdressingrooms]

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in Power !

[rikustarlight]

I started fully re-designing the Nejiten kids. YEARS ago (like 10 years ago) I made designs that didn’t make much sense. Even the names were a bit out there. But, I wanted to try again and this time take more effort into pulling character traits from both Neji and Tenten into their kids; appearance and behavior wise.

So, the twins are a modernized alternative to Neji’s design. I swapped the over pulled jacket for a side zipper and a cowl neck. Under the jacket, there is a black spandex tech top to give a nod to the green pander tech suit Lee wears. Their hair is also tied back in the low pony tail, however with their bangs out. In order to tell the twins apart (more for myself LOL) I changed the location of the bandages, just as Neji would wrap on side of his body as a gennin.

Meiten’s outfit is a modern crop and high waisted cargo pants in brown. I think I will change the coloring to the top to red and white to match Tenten and give a nod to her current/Shippuuden look. She wears pink elbow pads as well and sandals instead of shinobi gear. These designs would be about two or three years before the Boruto gang became gennin. Meiten is the same year as her cousin Boruto, and her brothers have been active gennin already.

These are sketches of fully flushed out designs for Boruto Next gen. If you read my head cannons for Neji and Tenten’s kids, you’d see that the twins would be chunnin around this time as their cousin Boruto started running a muck. Their styles are heavily inspired by Chinese street fashion and mixed with some Neji and Tenten touches. I wanted their color palletes to be simple and opposite. The idea of these two wearing white didn’t fit well in my mind so I let it as red and black. I also changed the narrative to where Nozomi is on Team Lee and Hizashi is on Team Inuzuka. Both Lee and Kiba had to deal with Hyuga’s on their team growing up, might as well keep it pushing lol

I also loved the idea of Meiten and Metal being super close friends/ “cousins” (since they address Lee as “Uncle”). If it were up to me, they would’ve made the next gen Team Gai. Keeping with Tenten’s gennin color combo, I also modernized Meiten’s outfit to high waisted shorts. I was debating on giving her weights as well for her wrists, but I’ll keep thinking about it.

For present time Naruto/ Boruto Next gen, Tenten’s design does not change she’s perfect in my eyes, however, I did think of a design for Neji;

[certifiedfreec]

neighbor!simon, the man that you are…

(reader is a baker… just for these few minutes 😭🙏)

🏘️ you’re finally settled into your new home, located in a quaint neighborhood not terribly far from your old one. it’s got a huge kitchen- exactly what you need for your small baking business! with all your supplies in their proper place, you’re finally ready to tackle all those orders after temporarily halting your services while you moved. you start prepping for a client’s son’s birthday cake, gathering all your ingredients, and you plug in your mixer…

🏘️ bright sparks fly for a second, making you fear for a house fire, and in seconds your mixer is deemed inoperable. must’ve gotten banged up during the move, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been using it for years :/ this puts you in a tight situation, as the lady’s supposed to pick the cake up this evening! there’s not enough time to go out and get a new one- but it’s not like you could afford one anyway with the lack of business over the past few weeks. sigh. you don’t even know any of your neighbors yet, but at this point they’re your only option.

🏘️ you set your ingredients aside before you reluctantly venture out of your house, starting with your neighbor to the left. a friendly old woman answers, but after asking for help you learn that she mixes “the ol’-fashioned way.” well, she’s not making a complicated triple-layer cake for some grimy kid, so that’s not exactly an option, judith. you thank her anyway and head over to the house across from yours, only to get no answer. must not be home. shit. you’re losing your last glimmer of hope as you trudge over to the house to your right, knocking on the door and already feeling a wave of regret crash into you. however, the tide changes when the door opens after a moment…

🏘️ you’re met by a hulking, broad man who barely fits in his doorframe, dressed in a black hoodie and blue jeans. he’s got some sort of balaclava covering his face- unconventional for sure, but that doesn’t dissuade you from nearly ogling at his size. he’s at least 6 feet tall, and all you can see are his eyes. shiny, warm, and honey-brown, but they watch you with some sort of guarded interest. almost like he’s staring through you. you can’t tell if you’ve already pissed him off, but then you hear his voice.

🏘️ “‘ello?” he’s not just british, he’s super british, with a voice so low and throaty that you want him to read you bedtime stories. you’re a little dumbfounded at the haunting beauty of the man whose doorstep you’re invading, but you’re so desperate to finish that goddamn birthday cake that you nervously blurt out some meek elevator pitch: hi, i’m a new neighbor next door, i have a baking business from home and my mixer just exploded on me. i have to make an annoyingly elaborate cake by tonight, would you by chance happen to have a mixer?

🏘️ the man chuckles. like, actually chuckles, and it’s the most beautiful sound ever. he must be used to having that effect on people; you hope he can’t hear your heartbeat skyrocketing. you see a faint smile through that skull-printed mask thing, and he gives you a quick nod before suddenly disappearing into his home. from the halfway-open door, it looks like it’s minimally decorated. you see some ambient lighting and hear some rock music playing somewhere-why are you paying attention to these things right now??

🏘️ the massive man emerges again, handling a beautiful high-end mixer that’s still in the box, and it makes your heart still. you’re fucking kidding. it was nicer than the one you were previously using before it combusted. that wave of regret from earlier ebbs into one of relief as he clutches it in his bear-paw-like hands, telling you briefly that he’s “been tryna get rid of the bloody thing” since he doesn’t bake much anyway. says he got it as a white elephant gift and was pissed about it, because he’d originally gotten some great bottles of bourbon that were inevitably stolen from him. he seems to warm up the slightest bit when he tells you, “keep it. it’s been collectin’ dust here.”

🏘️ you can’t get clear a read from him through all this, maybe because of his menacing appearance and stoic expression... yet he’s fairly relaxed when he talks to you. it’s actually kind of endearing! he’s giving you major “scary dog privilege” vibes, and you’ve always liked an intimidating- looking man who turns out to be a softie <3 you tell him you’d be happy to pay him for the gorgeous mixer he’s bestowing upon you, and he only shakes his head, as he has something else in mind. “i got one condition.” yeah, he’s not letting you go that easily. he’d be silly to, he thinks.

🏘️ you wait for this huge stranger’s request with bated breath, hoping he doesn’t say anything off-kilter though you’d probably do anything he asked since he’s so freakin’ attractive even without seeing at his face. you notice that faint smile again through the mask fabric before he says simply, “a lil’ bit of whatever you’re bakin’.”

🏘️ that’s all? you laugh, which to him is more pleasing to the ear than the music he’s playing throughout his house. it’s a surprisingly lighthearted ask and you happily oblige. an excuse to see this hunk again? sign me up!! he introduces himself as simon, and you assure him you’ll save him a little piece of your project because he just saved your whole damn business. pretty sweet deal. you thank him again with the expensive mixer in your grasp, feeling like the universe is entirely on your side today as you walk back to your house just 50 feet away. he’s feeling the exact same, and this man has never trusted the universe before.

🏘️ no surprise here, but the mixer works like a charm! it’s almost happy to no longer be sitting in the purgatory of simon’s kitchen cabinet. what was supposed to be a one-time deal turns into a routine of bringing over various cookies, pies, and cake slices to neighbor!simon, which is also the perfect excuse to see him without his face covering on <3 he’s hesitant about this at first, but now that gorgeous face is always on display so he can try whatever you’re fixing. oh, and you’re surprised to find that he’s more than comfortable with critiquing your baking, the cocky bastard. one time you brought over a wedge of lemon meringue pie, and upon biting into it he immediately told you “there’s not enough lemon zest.” you told him you thought he never baked; his self assured reply was “said i couldn’t bake, not couldn’t taste.”

🏘️ from that point on, you trust neighbor!simon’s judgment. he’s brutally honest, no sugarcoating (though he thought your peanut butter cookies could’ve used some of that). the only logical thing to do was appoint him as your official taste-tester, which he of course accepted! someone’s gotta do it, right? soon after his “promotion,” he’s sat in your kitchen to sample little bits of your work, letting you know what he thinks is missing and trying his hardest not to imagine dragging you back to your bedroom. he actually thinks you’re an incredible baker- he just likes to get all the portions that are reserved for him only!! if only he could sample you sometime :( he has this insatiable need to be even closer, so now he’s up helping you reach things in your higher cabinets and putting away used ingredients so your space is kept tidy. this makes your heart and something else swoon- yeah, you could definitely get used to having him as a business partner :’)

🏘️ neighbor!simon likes to study you whenever he’s over “on the clock”- his steady gaze picks up on all the details you don’t even notice about yourself. how tightly you hold your spatula when you’re stirring ingredients, how your tongue darts out when you’re reading through a recipe, how your cute little cheeks flush red when you vent about high-maintenance clients. you’re just so passionate that it’s almost maddening! a darker part of him can’t help but want to disrupt you, break your focus (and your back too hehe) and make you forget about your job for a little. you’re just so overworked, so eager to please your clientele, poor thing :( if only he could help you relieve your stress!!

🏘️ eventually he gets called in for an operation with his job, and he tells you he’s gonna be on assignment for a little over a month. you’re surprised at how sad you are when he’s not around to pull your cakes out of the oven and make his snarky comments about your demanding clients :/ he admittedly can’t stop thinking about you while he’s gone, how pretty you look when you’re concentrating on your pastry art, how he wants to rip that apron right off of you. he tries to distance himself with his work, reasoning that you’ll forget about him eventually since you’re just neighbors anyway. however, this is all thrown out the window when he returns home and sees that you’ve made him a huge banoffee pie, a favorite treat of his that he mentioned offhandedly one afternoon <3

🏘️ neighbor!simon has no words that can convey his appreciation- you really are the sweetest thing that’s happened to him! he immediately takes a bite, and it’s something he wants for every single occasion now. the combination of the kind gesture and the extensive time spent away from you inspires him to show you how grateful he is- in other words, he’s got you perched on your counter beside all your baking supplies, holding your legs over his shoulders while he devours your pussy like it’s one of your famed desserts. he laps and sucks at your oversensitive clit while you’re left to tug on his dark blond hair, and he thinks that your sweet slick is so much better than anything you’ve baked (no offense!! <3).

🏘️ and the best part? you feel just as good as you taste! after making you cum on his warm tongue and long fingers too many times to count, he’s mercilessly pounding into your cunt, holding your thighs up as he fills you with his ridiculously thick cock :’) one of his massive hands is cradling the back of your head, making you watch his length repeatedly sink into you and cause that bulge in your lower tummy. if that wasn’t enough to have you singing his praises, he’s telling you everything you’d ever wanted to hear from him with that low, husky voice of his: “y’look so pretty all split open for me,” “see that? takin’ me so good, angel,” “lemme have it, wanna feel you cum…”

🏘️ you’re sure the rest of your neighbors can hear you as your voice grows hoarse from crying out neighbor!simon’s name so much, but your brain is so fried from all the intense orgasms that you really don’t care!! with few more hard thrusts he finally pumps his hot load of cum into you, rendering you too sexed out to finish the rest of your clients’ orders that day. good thing he’s watched you so closely since he started coming over, because now he knows exactly what to do to get them prepped while you nap. he carries you to your bed, and all you can focus on as you drift to sleep is what else you can bake for him to get him to fuck you like that again. really though, he’d do it absolutely anytime- you’re his new favorite dessert anyway <3