#trendy watches for women

[kraniumet]

"cultural analysis" youtubers read something that isn't a medium/vouge/vox op-ed as research challange

[lehar-malpani04]

Buy fashion accessories for women online

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[emmaameliamiaava]

Women's Stylish Watches - Top Brands & Collections

Shop women's stylish watches from top brands. Elevate your fashion game with our curated collection of elegant and trendy designs.

[shopia-us]

At Shopia, we bring you a range of the best wrist watches for men that combine precision engineering with exquisite craftsmanship. Our selection features renowned brands known for their attention to detail and quality. Whether you prefer the timeless appeal of a mechanical watch or the modern convenience of a quartz movement, you'll find a watch that meets your standards. Each piece is designed to complement your style and elevate your look. Discover our collection on our website today.

[blekonwatch]

Mens Fashion Watches

When selecting a fashion watch, it is crucial to consider your personal style and the occasion for which you plan to wear it if you have a more casual and laid-back style, a stainless steel or leather bracelet watch would be a perfect choice. Mens Fashion Watches these options offer versatility, can be easily paired with everyday outfits, on the other hand if you prefer a more glamorous and sophisticated look, a gold or silver bracelet watch with embellishments such as crystals or diamonds would be ideal and that reflects your personality, and enhances your unique style.

[p0orbaby]

Extinguish the Flames with Some Champagne and Pills

summary: your may or may not be in denial about your feelings for alexia

warnings: mention of smut, alcohol and drugs and nothing major

a/n: a whole lot of words based on this request. set after this but you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 3k

-

You’ve been ignoring Alexia’s messages for weeks now, every one of them its own little bomb you’re too terrified to defuse. Every time her name pops up on your screen, your stomach flips, your breath catches, and you somehow experience the full spectrum of human emotion in a split second. But mostly there’s terror and something closer to shame than you’d like to admit.

It’s a game of avoidance that doesn’t come easily to you; after all, you’re usually the one with a glib reply or some devil-may-care response, the kind of person who thrives on chaos. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s something closer to shame nestled beneath the familiar terror, a sensation like a splinter lodged deep under the skin—small enough to ignore at first but persistent enough to drive you mad.

Your friends—of course, always your friends—keep bringing her up, as if they can somehow sense the crisis you’re trying to keep contained. It’s usually after a few cocktails too many, when your circle is gathered around a dimly lit table in some trendy restaurant or at a rooftop bar where the music is loud enough to drown out the awkward pauses but not loud enough to stifle their teasing. “She’s the best footballer in the world,” they slur with a kind of drunken reverence, like they’re invoking some untouchable deity rather than a woman who once had her strap buried inside you in a strangers bathroom. “You know she won the Ballon d’Or twice, right?” As if you haven’t been low-key stalking her career, watching those achievements pile up like monuments you’ll never come close to matching. “She’s beautiful and talented,” they declare, their words slurring into a familiar refrain, as though her accolades have somehow slipped your mind, as though you might have failed to notice her brilliance or her impossible grace.

But the clincher, the one they love to throw at you, is always: “And she’s Spanish”

There’s a certain relish with which they say it, that singsong tone like they’re divulging some magic spell or a punchline they know gets a laugh every time. It’s as if her nationality carries some kind of exotic allure, like there’s something intrinsically romantic or mysterious about being Spanish that you’re pre-programmed to fall for. Ridiculous, really, but your friends don’t care about nuance. They only remember the endless stories you told about summers in the Balearics—the drunken nights under hot stars, the hazy afternoons spent nursing hangovers and catching fragments of conversations in Spanish that you pretended to understand. “You love Spanish women,” they insist, as if your type is as predictable as your go-to drink order. Conveniently, they overlook the fact that your type mostly translates to ‘emotionally unavailable,’ as if that’s some universal trait of Iberian women.

It’s not that they’re entirely wrong, of course, but they’re oversimplifying. Your attraction to Alexia isn’t some exoticism or romantic fantasy you’ve spun out of nothing. It’s her unapologetic drive, her resilience, that hooked you—though God forbid you’d admit that to anyone. “She’s an athlete,” you shrug whenever the subject comes up, swirling the last melting ice cube in your Old Fashioned like it’s a magic eight ball that might give you a different answer this time. “They’re all players.” The line slips out with just the right amount of indifference, a practiced dismissal, as though you’ve been brutalised by every athlete from Cristiano Ronaldo to Wayne Gretzky. It’s a complete fabrication, of course. You’ve never actually dated a footballer, let alone the best in the world. But who can resist a good story, especially when it’s your own and you get to embellish the details?

It’s easier, you think, to act disinterested than to admit you’ve been replaying that night in the bathroom, the feel of her breath against your neck, every time you catch your reflection in some shiny surface. You thought you were done with all that—had filed her away in the mental drawer labelled ‘Temporary Distractions,’ right alongside the male model who could never quite remember your birthday and the painter who had the audacity to try to psychoanalyse you on the third date. One-night stands are supposed to be transient, fleeting, the kind of thing you can bring up in therapy one day with a detached air. “I think this is worth mentioning,” you’d say, as if it happened to someone else, “but it’s not really important.” Another plot point in the story of your life, never quite making it past the cutting room floor.

But Alexia doesn’t stay filed away. She starts turning up everywhere, not quite a haunting, but a presence you can’t shake no matter how you try. At first, it’s incidental—just a casual Instagram scroll, a stray click on some football gossip account that you don’t even remember following. There she is, grinning in some post-match group shot, looking too happy for someone who’s supposed to be just another fleeting chapter in your book. It’s the kind of unguarded joy that can’t be faked, not even for the camera, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always this free, or if it’s something that only comes out when she’s on the pitch, away from people like you.

You hardly even realise it, but suddenly you’re following three different Barcelona fan accounts. Then, as if by some magnetic force you’re unwilling to acknowledge, things escalate. She likes one of your posts—a shot from the Venice Film Festival where you’re all decked out in head-to-toe Prada, looking expensively bored, like you couldn’t care less about anything in the world. She comments on one of your stories: just an emoji. A single fire emoji, to be precise. Harmless, you suppose. But the comments start getting specific—little in-jokes that only someone who’d had their mouth on your skin could know. There’s a familiarity in her tone that feels invasive, like she’s reminding you of things you’ve deliberately chosen to forget.

You don’t reply. Cowardice? Yes. Masochism? Possibly. The most crucial thing is that replying would imply there’s something worth talking about, and something always becomes complicated. You’ve already got enough complicated in your life: a demanding agent who keeps sending you scripts for roles that are ‘outside your comfort zone,’ a wardrobe full of designer clothes you’re required to wear for sponsorship deals you didn’t even negotiate, and an on-again, off-again affair with mindful meditation that never seems to stick. You’re in the middle of wrapping up a film that everyone assures you will ‘change the trajectory of your career,’ though they’ve said the same about the last three projects, and you still get recognised more for that face cream advert you did when you were twenty-one than for anything of substance.

The film’s an indie about a morally ambiguous antiheroine, a character so damaged and charmingly dysfunctional you’d think you were being typecast if the role didn’t feel like an emotional excavation. She’s got a drinking problem; you’ve always favoured substances that can be discreetly indulged in penthouse bathrooms, though you’re certainly not going to point that out to the director who keeps going on about ‘authenticity’ and ‘method acting.’ He seems to think you’ve got some untapped well of emotion just waiting to be accessed, as if there’s this depth beneath your flawless skin that’s going to pour out on cue. If only. Most of the time, you’re trying not to let your co-star notice the faint tremor in your hands that’s mostly a byproduct of too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Then one day, while you’re lounging in your trailer, pretending to enjoy a green juice that tastes like the inside of a lawnmower—another post from Alexia. She’s on the pitch, holding some trophy aloft, her face flushed with victory. Her hair is slicked back, still damp with sweat, strands clinging to her skin in a way that seems impossibly intimate despite the vastness of the stadium behind her. That smile… Christ. It’s like she’s been sculpted out of bronze, an ancient statue come to life, as if she’s somehow timeless and ephemeral all at once. There’s something almost mythic about her, an enduring quality that makes your breath hitch in a way that feels both familiar and unnervingly new, like an old friend who’s overstayed their welcome but you’re not quite ready to let go.

It’s moments like these when you notice how precariously you’re balancing on the line between fascination and obsession. You catch yourself humming the anthem of Barcelona’s football club, the tune woven so deeply into your subconscious that it startles you. You aren’t even sure where you picked it up, but it plays on a loop whenever your mind wanders, like a soundtrack you didn’t choose. Then there are the little things—reading the match reports in the sports section like you actually know what half the terms mean, or memorising obscure facts about the team’s history as if they’re somehow relevant to your life. You’ve started following the scores like they’re stock prices, pretending it’s just casual interest, though a part of you wonders why you keep needing to know how well she played, how many minutes she was on the pitch, whether she looked happy in the post-game interviews.

It’s a form of self-deception that’s becoming harder to maintain. You’re drawn to her orbit, pulled in by a force that feels magnetic and entirely outside your control, as though your fascination is bleeding into the rest of your life, filling the gaps you didn’t even know existed.

You decide, in a moment of what can only be described as poor judgment, to attend one of her matches. It feels impulsive and reckless in the way most of your decisions do, a haphazard pairing of curiosity and a kind of dangerous longing. You book a front-row seat like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’re just ticking another item off some glamorous bucket list rather than treading into unfamiliar territory. Naturally, you show up dressed to the nines—your favourite Gucci sunglasses perched on your nose, an Alexander McQueen coat draped over your shoulders with that deliberate, careless grace that suggests you’re either oblivious to or entirely aware of its price tag. Your hair is styled in that kind of artful chaos that takes hours to perfect but is meant to look like you rolled out of bed effortlessly chic. You’re not here for the football. You’re here for her.

The atmosphere in the stadium is overwhelming, almost suffocating, a heady cocktail of chants, horns, and the sharp, greasy scent of fried food that turns your stomach. It’s a kind of chaos you’re unaccustomed to, this all-consuming fervor where the world narrows down to the pitch, to the twenty-two players moving with a purpose you can’t fully grasp. You understand about three percent of what’s happening on the field—just enough to know when the ball’s in play but not enough to follow the strategies unfolding before you. You’re mostly people-watching: the sea of jerseys, the faces contorted with passion, the rhythmic clapping that you can’t quite catch the beat of.

When Alexia scores, it catches you off guard. The stadium erupts, thousands of people leaping to their feet with a collective roar that vibrates through your bones. You react half a beat late, your applause more polite than enthusiastic, like you’re at a black-tie gala instead of a football match. You stand, clap along with the crowd, and try not to feel like an imposter. As the cheers die down, you catch her eyes from across the distance, just for a flicker of a moment. There’s something in her gaze—an awareness, a spark—that slices through the noise and zeroes in on you. It’s like she sees you, actually sees you, in the middle of this thrumming, chaotic mass of bodies, and for a split second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the entire stadium.

After the game, you somehow find yourself swept into the exclusive VIP area, a place filled with the kind of people who can glide between worlds as easily as they switch languages. A flute of champagne appears in your hand almost before you’re aware you’ve been handed one, and you sip it absentmindedly as you let the buzz of conversation wash over you. You’re halfway through your second glass when she appears, slipping through the crowd with a kind of effortless poise, her hair still damp from the shower, the strands curling at the ends. She’s wearing a loose tracksuit, looking every bit the casual athlete, as though she hasn’t just been commanding the attention of thousands.

There’s an insufferable confidence in the way she moves towards you, that familiar swagger that borders on arrogance, as if she’s amused by the fact that you actually showed up, that you dared to step into her world. “I didn’t think you were a football fan,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes betray something else—a darker, more searching intensity that you recognise all too well from that night in the bathroom, the one you keep trying and failing to forget.

“I can appreciate a good performance,” you reply, lifting your glass in a mock toast, your voice slipping into that arch tone you’ve perfected over years of industry parties and press tours. “I’ve seen Cats live on Broadway, you know.” It’s a flippant comment, the kind that’s designed to deflect, to distract, to keep the conversation light and meaningless.

She laughs, a rich sound that feels like an indulgence. It’s not so much at your joke but at the way you’re playing this little game, like she’s letting you have your moment, humouring you. “And did you enjoy the show?” she asks, her voice dropping just enough to suggest that her question has nothing to do with the theatre and everything to do with the performance she just gave on the pitch.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you say, holding her gaze longer than you probably should. There’s a challenge in the way you look at her, an unspoken dare, and for a moment, you wonder if she’ll take the bait. Her lips curl into a small, devilish smile, a private expression that feels like a confession meant just for you.

The moment stretches, teeters precariously on the edge of something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. It feels monumental, like a line about to be crossed, but then she steps back, just a fraction, and the spell breaks. She turns away with a dismissive grace, leaving you standing there as if you’ve just been defeated in a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Good,” she says simply, and with that one word, she slips back into the crowd, leaving you with nothing but the faint taste of champagne on your lips and the lingering sense that you’ve been left wanting.

After that, you start to notice the divide. There’s Before Alexia and After Alexia, and it’s not a clean break but a jagged line that cuts through your life, shifting everything off balance. You used to think of yourself as someone in control, or at least someone who could fake it convincingly enough to fool everyone else. There was always an understanding that if you messed up, someone would be there to fix it—your agent, a publicist, some overworked assistant who could call in a favor to make the headlines disappear. But now, your phone has become an instrument of anxiety, vibrating with texts and notifications that you crave and dread in equal measure. It buzzes with messages from her that you read but don’t answer, with updates from your agent about the press tour you keep dodging, with reminders of responsibilities you keep pushing aside.

Even after filming there has finished, you start booking last-minute flights to Barcelona under the guise of ‘business,’ convincing yourself that it’s all perfectly legitimate. Your agent rolls his eyes and hounds you to schedule interviews and appearances, but you find yourself at the airport anyway, boarding another red-eye that will land you in some unfamiliar city just in time to catch her match. You’re finding yourself in strange places at ungodly hours, indulging in the kind of fan behavior you’d have found pathetic if you saw anyone else doing it. Ninety minutes of football passes in a trance, where the world narrows down to her figure gliding across the pitch, the fluid grace of her movements cutting through the static in your head like a hot knife through butter.

Afterwards, you’ll send her a coy, inconsequential text—“Not bad,” or “You could work on your footwork.” And she’ll reply with that maddening charm that dances the line between sincerity and sarcasm, always leaving you guessing. “Come and coach me, then,” she’ll say, as if she’s issuing a challenge, or perhaps an invitation.

There’s this one time, after too many drinks and not enough sleep, when you actually consider it. You catch yourself scrolling through Spanish real estate listings, as if browsing apartments for sale in Barcelona is a casual hobby rather than a subconscious form of planning. You tell yourself it’s just idle curiosity, a way to pass the time, yet you’re finding out the details—locations near the stadium, neighbourhoods with the best views, penthouses with terraces that would catch the Mediterranean breeze. You click on the photos of sun-drenched balconies and tiled kitchens, pretending you’re only fantasising about a different kind of life, one where you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder for the next tabloid scandal or PR crisis.

But then you sober up. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror of a five-star hotel suite in Madrid, taking in the disheveled hair, the dark circles under your eyes, and you remember who you are. You’re not the kind of person who throws away their life for someone else, certainly not for a woman you haven’t even kissed since that one stolen night, a night that’s become less real and more like a story you tell yourself to explain this unshakable obsession. Besides, you’d probably make a terrible coach.

[disgustingtwitches]

"I like a tall woman with a nice big ass."

König x tall+curvy!reader. Love the idea of this uptight motherfucker getting with someone who is young and wild :)

MDNI

König is dragged out to a trendy club by his subordinates and he's awkwardly folded up in a seat in the corner of the club. The flashing lights and loud music give him a headache so he steps out into the smoking area. There you are with your girlfriends, yelling something about a 'hot girl summer' and pouring tequila into each other's mouths.

He can't really ignore your group; young, foreign, and rambunctious. He can't really ignore your long legs that lead to full hips that move side to side. He can't really ignore your pierced nipples or rounded breasts that almost bust out of your tight white crop top while you jump around. He can't really ignore how soft you look. He has to look away so all the blood in his body doesn't rush to his dick.

One of his subordinates walk up to him, concerningly drunk, talking about some bullshit he doesn't care about. He ushers him back to the group before ordering them to back to base. The group complains but complies. They don't even ask why he's staying behind.

He goes off to look for you. You aren't hard too find, taller than the gaggle of women that surround you. He just stares at you from far away. You stop mid conversation with your girlfriends, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. You look around and see him staring: a clear view of each other over the tops of everyone's heads.

As unsettling as his stare is, you were used to it by now. That's apparently how Germans are? You excused yourself from your group and walked over to him. Even in your heels he was taller than you. Something you weren't used to.

"Evening."

You put your hand out. He takes it, his hands are rough and his grip strong.

"Abend."

He replies dryly. There's an awkward silence. What a charmer, this one. It didn't really matter though, he was hot. He was still holding your hand... it was getting sweaty. You pull away and wipe your hand on your skirt.

"So, uhm... Nice weather."

You try to wrangle a conversation out of him.

"Yes, it is... agreeable."

You want to laugh. He was kind of pathetic. It made him hotter somehow. You convince him to take a shot with you, hoping to losen him up. You manage a few more words out of him; his age and "name". Or whatever he preferred to be called. Your girlfriends find and encircle the both of you. He immediately tenses up while they bombard the two of you with questions. You shoo them and they giggle walking off.

The rest of the night is filled with the same failed attempts at conversation. At this point it's just niceties, you're gonna sleep with him whether he talks or not. He knows that. You shoot a text to your girlfriends and share your location while he whisks you away to his place.

As soon as the door to his place closes, he pins you against the wall, grabs your neck, and plants deep kisses on your lips. It takes you back a little, expecting him to be a little more shy. But you're not complaining. You start tearing each other's shirts off, he audibly moans when your top comes off. He twirls his tongue around one pierced nipple, brushing a thumb over the other one diligently.

"So fucking beautiful, fits in my hand perfectly."

His wet mouth leaves a trail of sloppy kisses up your neck.

"Can you keep the heels on?"

He asks while unbuckling his pants. You oblige. He places a hand on your back and guides you to place your hands on a table in the hallway, making you face a mirror. You watch his face through the reflection as he lifts your skirt up, his eyes go wide. So soft and full. He's practically drooling, mumbling something about finally being able to stand and fuck someone properly for once. He pulls your panties to the side and flashes a goofy smile while rubbing himself between your slick folds. You'd laugh if you weren't absolutely horrified at how big he felt pressed up against your entrance. He looks up half-lidded,

"Fucking perfect for me, hm?"

Your knees almost buckled at his words. God, he's fucking hot. He teasingly slides his fat tip in and out of you until you beg for more, groans as he slides himself inside you. You clench around him as he gets deeper and deeper. Jesus, how much dick can one man have? He holds your hips and rocks back and forth slowly. Soft love taps to your cervix each time your hips touch his.

"Look."

He says while reaching to wrap a gentle hand around your neck to pull you back against his chest.

"See how good we look together, hm?"

You moan his name as he starts to pound into you. He's entranced with the way your soft ass bounces on his dick. He looks up into your eyes through the mirror while teasing your nipples.

"You take it better than anyone I've ever fucked before."

He kisses and nips your neck before he reaches down to grab both cheeks, spreading you out to get a better view of himself slipping in and out of you. The sight makes his dick jump inside you, which is an overwhelmingly delicious feeling. He leans over and snakes his hands around to the front of your thighs and squeezes them before sliding up between them, playing with your sensitive clit. He gets too rough with you. He thinks you can handle more since you're thicker and taller than most women he's been with. You can't. His dick is a battering ram. Your knees buckle.

"Come on mein Schatz, you can take it. Say you can take it."

How could you deny him? His voice is so soft and darling compared to the roughness of his actions. He grips your curvy hips and pulls them back onto his hips, hard. He fills you to the brim as you yelp. He didn't have a way to describe the way you made him feel. It was a nice change of pace from having to treat women like a piece of porcelain. He could rough you up a bit and you took it like a champ. He didn't have to bend in a way that made his back hurt the next morning. This was refreshing. He couldn't get enough. It went on for hours and hours.

"Made just for me."

He'd repeat into your ear every time you'd spasm around him. He folded you up and pounded into you until you couldn't see straight. He'd fondle every curve on your body, praising how nicely it bounced every time he strokes into you. You were supposed to fly out to England with your girlfriends the next day. Instead, he bought you a ticket to catch a flight after the weekend was over.

[user211201]

Born to be a father

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-10 by breedertfs ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

I'm a gay man in my early 20's. I know I'm young but I keep having these thoughts.....or this desperate need to be a father. I don't understand where it's coming from.

That's your body telling you how things are gonna be now, bro. This is your new normal.

It's in your muscle memory - even if you claim to have never wanted to be a breeder before now. This urge to spread your seed has been lying dormant in your DNA, just waiting for your desires to waken inside your throbbing cock and for the hunger for wet pussy to cloud your rational mind. Don't you love the way I talk about women and their bodies? The way the men in my stories just can't help but to suck on a pair of fat, bouncing tits? How their thick, slobby tongues want nothing more than to slide between some wet, slick pussy lips?

Imagine the squelch, the squirt, the sound of her high pitched moaning. The way her eyelids will flutter when you unleash your hot, thick load inside her.

You're rock hard, bro. Don't deny it. Your hips buck with pleasure, your package feels so fat and hot, your wide cock head rubbing the fabric of your underwear with each needy thrust you make. The young gay man who made his home inside your mind finds himself surrounded by a sudden harem of hot women, blondes and redheads and brunettes, all with their huge breasts exposed and their greedy fingers between their juicy thighs. This makes you moan in the outside world, your boner raging as you continue to gyrate, your work pants growing taut around your much stronger, hairier legs.

"Yeah, you like that, bitch?" an unfamiliar voice speaks from your lips, bristles of dark hair framing your strengthening jaw. Your hands grow larger and callused, reaching out in front of you and gripping around the waist of an imaginary slut. Your eyes turn dark and brooding, your once youthful face growing older and more grizzled. The strange voice continues to deepen and shift as you moan, your arms growing thick with muscle as your larger fingers pretend to reach towards a pair of jiggling tits. You swear you've never touched a set of breasts before, but your new body can conjure the feeling so easily, as if you were just squeezing a pair the very night before. Perky nipples under your fingertips, jiggling flesh in your palms. It's so natural. "Fuck. Tell Daddy what a needy whore you are."

Your once trendy hair pulls back into your scalp and darkens, becoming a close cropped masculine hairstyle. Your work clothes become more professional, colorful pastel shirt becoming a simple short sleeved blue button up, your khakis fading into simple denim. You're a straight man, after all. You don't feel the need to dress up or stand out. You just feel the need to push your cock into a wide open cunt, to feel the pussy juice accepting your shaft and allowing your nine inches to slide right in. Your nuts swell inside your underwear, full of virile seed that desperately wants to be fired into a waiting womb. You moan again, drool sliding down your stubbled chin, your expression taken over by primal lust.

The former you is still trapped inside his mind, staring at the group of women that have him cornered. To his horror, he watches as the moaning bimbos begin to cry out louder, reaching their soft hands up to grab their breasts as each of their tits begin to swell with milk. The old you watches in horror and amazement, all these big boobed beauties suddenly taking it to a new level, but your awe settles into shocked terror as suddenly all of the women begin to reach down to their stomachs, which begin to rapidly inflate as pussy juice squirts and runs down their trembling legs. In a matter of seconds, your fading former self is trapped with a harem of pregnant women. Everywhere you look is a wet cunt, a fat tit dribbling milk, a pair of kissable lips sighing a moan.

The old you doesn't stand a chance inside the mind of a breeder. He begins to shake, his image blurring and beginning to fade, all of his youth and former goals burning away to make room for the superior man who has made your body his home. Inside and out. This is you. The women in your mind are just memories of former and future conquests alike, an endless sea of women that will swell with your seed and raise your children. Nothing turns you on more than this. You have found your purpose in life.

And there's no shame in that. You want to be a father because you were quite literally born to be a father. And now, my dear friend, your new body is going to make sure you have no choice but to be fruitful and multiply.

Better clock in those hours at your new office job. You're gonna have a lot of hungry mouths to feed - and no shortage of women to impregnate.

[hermajestyimher]

I Put My Faith in God - Not People

There’s been a lot of criticism about hyper-independence in women, but I personally can’t relate to those critiques. As someone who left home and moved to another country at 18, I’ve always had a strong desire to be my own person and work hard to achieve my goals. Depending on others for my survival has never felt right to me.

For some of us, being a “girl boss” isn’t just a trendy aesthetic—it’s part of who we are. We grew up watching our mothers and grandmothers suffer at the hands of men in their lives. We saw the women in our communities tied down because they couldn’t live without being married or financially dependent on men. Many of us witnessed domestic abuse and other forms of oppression and made the conscious decision to break those cycles.

I’ve learned that the only one I can fully trust in is God. He is not a man who will lie, and His ways are not like ours. He has been beyond faithful to me. If He sends me helpers along the way, I’ll gladly accept their assistance because I know it’s divinely guided, but I will never put my trust in men—never. People are flawed, self-centered, and imperfect. You have to navigate this world with the understanding that someone can present themselves one way and then completely change later on. By putting my faith in God instead of people, I know that whatever provision I receive is good and without strings attached.

Being hyper-independent when it comes to people is crucial to me and I will never allow people with conservative agendas make me feel guilty about it, but I will always remain fully dependent on God.

[roosterforme]

Stiff Competition | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: After visiting your bakery one time, Bob has a crush on you. The only problem is, so do all of the other guys.

Warnings: Fluff and some swears

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bob quietly followed his friends inside the trendy, new bakery that opened near base. He had become so accustomed to the bickering between Hangman and Rooster, he found it almost soothing, even early on a Monday morning.

"No way," Bradley said, shaking his head at Jake. "You're wrong, and now you're just being stubborn."

Jake sighed calmly. "I'm just saying, there's no way anyone, Fred included, would pick Velma over Daphne. It's unrealistic."

Bradley grunted in response. "Whatever. Smart girls are always hot."

Bob just cradled his forehead in his hand and let the rich smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wash over his senses. All three men in their khaki uniforms shuffled forward as the line moved.

"Holy shit," Bradley and Jake muttered softly and in perfect unison. 

"Do you see what I see?" Bradley asked, staring entranced at the sight before him.

"Oh hell yes, I do," Jake confirmed with a nod. 

Bob immediately looked in the direction they were staring, and his breath caught in his throat. All three of them were now eyeing you up where you stood behind the counter. You were smiling at one of the patrons and filling a pastry box with donuts. 

"She's kinda hot," Bradley whispered.

"Better than that. She's fucking gorgeous," Jake replied.

Bob silently agreed with them, noting the adorable smudge of flour on your cheek. He had always been a little shy, a little timid around women. And he was not about to get into a dick measuring contest with Bradley and Jake. He would just let the two of them fight it out, because Bob was never the one to get the stunning girl.

When it was their turn to order, Bob watched the other two men trip over each other to get to the counter first. You smiled at each of them in turn, your gaze lingering on Bob and making him blush. 

"Hi! What can I get for you fellas?" you asked the three of them, and Bob completely forgot what he was going to order. 

"Hey, gorgeous. What would you recommend?" Bradley asked in a deep and raspy voice as he leaned against the counter and peered at you over his aviators. 

You chuckled and shook your head. "I would recommend the citrus muffin with orange zest."

"Perfect, I'll get six of those," he said, his smile twitching below his mustache. "I'm Bradley, by the way."

"And I'm Jake! And I'll get a dozen muffins." Bob watched Jake flash you a megawatt smile, and he wished he could be half as charming. 

"A dozen muffins?" you asked Jake. Your eyes skimmed back over Bob's face with an amused glint in your eye. 

"Actually, I'll take two dozen," Bradley said, changing his order and glaring at Jake. 

"So you want a total of three dozen muffins?" you asked before turning toward the bakery case. "Okay.... seems excessive," you muttered. 

Bob watched you intently as you packed up bakery boxes of muffins and entered them into the register. You must have known what was going on here, but you just smiled at the three of them as you worked. 

"Anything for you?" you asked, flashing Bob a smile that made him feel a little nervous. "You're awfully quiet back there."

"Uh, just a small coffee, please," he muttered, getting out his wallet and trying to stay cool.

"One hundred and twenty eight dollars is your total," you announced, and Jake and Bradley both tried to get you to take their credit cards at the same time. 

"I've got it, I insist," Bradley said.

"Use my platinum card," Jake announced loudly.

"Use mine. His will definitely be declined," Bradley replied, trying to nudge Jake out of the way.

You carefully took one in each hand and said, "Um... I'm just going to split it between both cards. How does that sound?"

When the enormous quantity of muffins had been collected, and you handed Bob his coffee, he forced himself to meet your eyes. "Thank you, miss," he said softly, as your fingers grazed against his. "You have a lovely day."

Bob watched you bite your lip as he tucked five dollars into the tip jar and nodded his head at you.

"Thanks. See you soon, I hope," you called as he turned to leave. Bob glanced back one last time as he exited the bakery, and you were still looking at him.

------------------------------

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Bob was about to eat the sandwich he had packed, but Jake suggested going back to the bakery. 

"I hope she's working again today," Bradley said, grabbing his car keys. 

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Hot little piece like that, she's gotta have a boyfriend."

Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've stolen a girl from another guy."

"What makes you think she'd pick you when I'm available?" Jake asked.

Bob just tuned them out until they all arrived at the bakery. He was hoping to see you again too, but he just wanted to listen to your voice and watch you smile. He'd let the other two do most of the talking. They were good at that sort of thing.

"Gorgeous," Bradley called you. "How've you been?"

"Fine," you replied, once again smiling at the three of them. "What can I get for you today? Another coffee for you?" you asked Bob, and he just nodded in reply. He didn't need more caffeine today, but he wanted you to hand him the cup again. He'd just give it to Phoenix when he got back on base. 

Bob listened to the other two men once again order more pastries than anyone could ever need, and this time Jake pulled a massive wad of cash out of his wallet and insisted on paying for everything. Bradley had a sour look on his face that he tried to hide when you smiled at him and handed him two bags of food. 

Then he stood to his full height, chest puffed out. "Thanks, gorgeous," Bradley said, sliding his aviators back into place. Bob watched Jake try to stand as tall as Bradley, failing and looking ridiculous in the process. Bob just closed in on himself a little more, trying to blend his tall frame into the background. 

"And your coffee," you said, handing the disposable cup to Bob with another beautiful smile. His hand shook when he accepted the cup, and a little bit of the beverage sloshed down the sleeve of his flight suit and splashed onto the counter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bob muttered, setting down the cup and reaching for the napkins. 

"No, it was my fault," you assured him. "I'll clean it up, you don't have to."

"Bob!" Jake called from the doorway. "What's the holdup, man? You coming?"

"Uh, I'll meet you at the car," he replied, mopping up the drink and drying his sleeve.

"Your name's Bob?" you asked him softly. 

He glanced up to meet your warm gaze and nodded once. "Yes. I'm Lieutenant Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob," he said quietly. 

You smiled and told him your name. "Here you go, Bob. These are on the house. Sorry I spilled your coffee."

Bob took a small paper bag from you and picked up his coffee cup once more. "Oh, that's not necessary. It was my fault."

"I insist," you told him. "See you again soon?"

He looked down at his feet and smiled. "Yes. See you again soon."

"I can't wait."

---------------------------------

On Friday morning, Bob was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about you all week, but he knew the other guys had been, too. They had been talking about you a lot, but Bob was too shy to tell them he was also interested in you. 

He'd given the coffee to Phoenix the other day, but he smiled when he opened the bag and found a croissant. His favorite. It seemed like you knew. And it was flaky and perfect, and he couldn't wait to see you again and get another one. 

"Bakery time!" Bradley announced. "Time to visit the hottie. You coming, Bob?"

Bob fell into step behind him and Jake, but then Reuben and Javy were joining as well. "Everyone's coming today?" Bob asked, squeezing into Reuben's car along with the other four. 

"Yeah, can't wait to see this girl," Javy said. 

"Heard she's sexy," Reuben agreed. 

Bob just stared out the window and sighed. He was just going to have to get over his crush on you. It was the only way to keep his heart from breaking. He wouldn't look at you, and he wouldn't talk to you. And he definitely wouldn't eat another croissant. 

He shuffled into the bakery behind the others, and there you were. He tried to look at all of the baked goods in the case, but you greeted him by name. You greeted only him by name. 

"Hi," he managed, and the other four guys turned to glare at him. 

"Gorgeous, what would you recommend today?" Bradley asked you.

"Blueberry muffins are good today," you replied, and you started packing up a box full at Javy's request. 

"So, how long have you been working here?" Reuben asked, leaning so far across the counter, he may as well have just jumped over. 

"I'm the owner and primary baker," you told them, and Bob was so impressed. 

"Wow, gorgeous. Your muffins are really famous around here. We can't stop coming back for more," Bradley said, smirking at you. But you were looking at Bob again as he inched forward. 

"Did you make the croissant? It was very good," he told you, unable to look away. 

You beamed at him. "I did. They're my specialty."

Bob swallowed hard, all four guys looking at him in surprise now. "Could... uh, could I have another one? I'll pay for it this time though, if you don't mind. It was delicious."

"Of course, Bob. Anything you want." You turned to get a bag ready, and Bob thought he might faint. 

Jake turned and mouthed at him, "Anything you want?"

Bob just shrugged and made his way toward the register. He was pouring sweat in his flight suit, trying to stay as calm as possible. You met him at the other end of the counter and smiled as you slid a bag and a small coffee his way. 

"Three dollars," you told him softly, as if you could tell he was nervous, but you didn't seem to mind.

"What about the coffee?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

"On the house."

Bob quickly paid you for the croissant, as he could already hear Jake and the others getting restless. 

Jake leaned across the counter as you ran his credit card. "You interested in pilots?" he asked with a smirk. 

You just swiped the card and handed it back to him. "You're all pilots?" you asked, smiling at all of them. 

"Nah, Bob here is just a backseater," Reuben said loudly, slapping Bob on the back and nearly spilling his coffee.

"Oh, so Bob's the brains of the operation? Sounds about right," you said, sending a subtle wink in his direction. 

Bob's ears felt a little fuzzy and his collar felt a little too tight. Maybe he had imagined the wink. Yes, that must be it. 

The guys all hooted, and Jake said, "Well sure, Bob's smart and organized, but that's not as exciting."

You just shrugged. "Still sounds exciting to me. Hope you guys all have a safe flight this afternoon. Enjoy your croissant, Bob."

He floated out onto the sidewalk with the others, still in a daze. 

"What the fuck, guys? She likes Bob the best?" Javy said in disbelief as they all walked back to the car. "Hangman and Rooster, you two really dropped the ball."

"Does she?" Bob asked quietly. "She likes me?"

Reuben shoved half a muffin into his mouth and grinned. "You should ask her out, man." 

Bob thought about asking you out the whole drive back to base and as he walked to meet up with Phoenix. When he finally opened the bag to eat his croissant, he saw that you had put three inside. 

--------------------------

Late Saturday morning, Bob paced around outside of the bakery with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He'd peeked in through the window and saw that you and another girl were working, but he'd lost his nerve. He was on the verge of heading back to his car and calling it a day when the door opened, and he could smell the croissants. 

"You can do it," he told himself and rushed inside before he could turn around.

"Bob!" you called with a bright smile. "Back for more croissants?"

He took a deep breath and headed toward you. He noticed you were looking at the flowers in his hand, but you didn't say anything or rush him to respond, which he appreciated. You just smiled and leaned on the counter. 

"Yes, I would like another croissant," he muttered, and you pushed up from the counter to get it for him. "Actually, I would like two. But you need to let me pay for both of them today."

"Okay. Sure, Bob," you said with the tiniest smile as you put two into a bag. But now you didn't look as happy, and he wanted to kick himself. How had he messed this up already?

He met you at the register, and you asked him, "So, are the flowers for your wife? Or your girlfriend?"

"Oh, neither," he said, lifting them a little higher. "I don't have either of those."

You looked up at him and bit your lip. "Who's the extra croissant for?"

Bob watched your lips as you waited for him to answer. He was sweating, but he was in too deep to turn back now. "I, um... thought maybe we could eat them together. When you're done working. If you're not too busy."

Your smile lit up your face again. "I would like that."

Bob's smile matched your own. "You would?"

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "You're so sweet. Much better than your friends. Are those flowers for me?"

Bob looked at the floor as he felt himself blushing. "Oh, yeah," he said, handing them to you. "Of course they are."

He watched you disappear into the kitchen for a minute, only to reappear without the flowers or your apron. Then you joined him on his side of the counter. Without any hesitation, you placed one hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Let's go for a walk," you told him, and Bob's heart was absolutely pounding for you. "I know a nice bench, perfect for eating croissants."

Bob felt you lace your fingers through his, and he held your hand in his larger one. "Lead the way."

-----------------------

This fic is for my Bobby loving friend Alex!!! @bradshawsbitch

Thanks to Alli @beyondthesefourwalls for giving this a read for me.

I hope I have done our Loverboy Bob justice!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@mak-32

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@endofdays56

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

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@yanna-banana

[nottheeconomy]

The beautifully dashing leader of the phantom thieves and the charming detective princess!

My take on fem shuake!!!

I like my toxic doomed yaoi but toxic doomed Yuri hits so much harder when it comes to these two

(Brainrot under the read more!)

If Shuake were girls they would be so much more volatile than canon it’s hilarious

Honestly if Akechi was born a girl instead of a boy his already terrible life would be twice as hard hahahaha

Fem Akechi would have a much harder time willingly refraining from directly murdering shido

Like canon Akechi is this close to just shooting him in the head anytime he sees him but fem Akechi would have so much more temptation to see him dead dead dead

She’s going to have to withstand his disgustingly sexist statements with a bright smile on her face as shido says things like “oh Akechi, you’re not like those other women that only serve to further this country’s great longevity through rearing the young, you’re different, more capable.” And she needs to let those slimy words go in one ear and out if she’s going to be patient enough for him to be elected first

Not to mention she’s going to experience so much more scrutiny as a public idol since she’ll be a girl

Like in canon he already has a questionable fanbase but just imagine the weirdos that’ll idolise her as the detective princess

And she’s definitely not going to be taken as seriously by people for her detective work because people would JUST WRITE HER OFF AS A PRETTY FACE!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA JUST THE THOUGHT OF HOW MUCH HARDER FEM AKECHI HAS TO CLIMB TO THE TOP TO GET TO WHERE SHE IS!!!!!

She’s going to curate every facet of her image to make sure people takes her as seriously as possible

Her style needs to be trendy but not too trendy or people would call her vain

She needs to be careful of showing too much skin or she’ll be slutshamed

She needs to word her statements more delicately or else people would call her annoying do you see the visionnnnnnnnn

Like canon Akechi’s public mask is already so tightly wound against his face, fem Akechi’s public mask would be a full suit of armour (get it get it? Hahahahhaha)

Meanwhile! If Akira was a girl, the notion of her being a meddler when she tries to stop shido would be much stronger I think

Also I have a feeling she’s going to get harassed at shujin for having her criminal record leaked instead of how in canon everyone left Akira alone due to fear since people won’t take her assault charge as seriously

And then there’s kamoshida…eugh

So in conclusion:

I just think both of them would have so much more pent up rage than in canon hahahahahha

Like I’m sure they would’ve physically thrown hands in the boiler room of shido’s ship, like forget about the personas they’re going to throttle each other as the rest of the thieves watch hahahahahahhaa

On the bright side though I can see fem Akechi being closer to Sae and the detective princess being a role model to little girls

Hm but I have a feeling the rivalry between Akechi and Akira would feel like those early 2010s tabloid articles about how female stars had beef with each other, like it’ll be framed as something super catty hahahahaha

Man these girlies are filled with so much anger, honestly it’ll be so iconic if Akechi and Akira were written as girls but I err don’t have that much trust in Altus!

These are just my silly headcanons for fem Shuake! If you disagree with what I said it’s ok hahahahaha

[cocoakrispis-blog]

✭ 2. REDISCOVERING YOUR GENDER IDENTITY ✭

pairing ~ ellie williams x fem! reader

summary ~ (y/n) is actually quite confident in her gender identity but what happens when she and ellie are forced to partner up and figure some interesting concepts out.

warnings ~ homophobia, tones of a little bit of religious trauma,

wc ~ 2.4k words

SERIES MASTERLIST

the next day of camp was the beginning of your journey to “rediscovering our gender identity”.

this concept was one that you didn’t quite understand.

although this camp had made you loose a lot of the confidence you had in yourself this area was not one of them.

i mean you knew what you were.

a girl.

a girly girl at that.

girly girl that liked to do her own makeup, try out trendy new hairstyles, and wear the softest most pastel colors.

overall you presented very feminine and you were quite confident in your ability to do so.

so this step felt quite useless to you.

as of right now you guys were exploring the housewife part of being a women.

cleaning being the main subject.

you and dina were practicing vacuuming the floor alongside riley who was having a little bit more assistance from maria.

when you glanced up from your vacuum you noticed cat and ellie in the corner giggling about something.

you couldn’t believe that they weren’t even pretending to be semi interested in the lesson.

you felt your jaw clench in irritation and you quickly put your head back down to continue vacuuming and letting your mind wander.

being clean was something that you did out of habit.

you never found yourself doing it in your free time or when you were bored.

a sudden thought popped into your head making you shiver.

‘maybe that’s the problem maybe the normal girls love cleaning even if they didn’t have to’ you thought to yourself subconsciously.

maria eventually noticed cat and ellie not paying attention and decided to call everyone to the floor o that everyone would be forced to pay attention.

“since some of you can not seem to work on your femininity independently we will do this in a group setting.” maria gave cat and ellie a stern look.

“okay girls the number one most important rule to mastering a perfect vacuum job must be to be extremely precise and thorough.” the loud sound of the vacuum being turned on filled up the room.

“you must go in and out and in and out.” maria repeated the phrase over and over as she assisted riley in demonstrating the motion continuously.

something about the scene felt very intimate to you can you couldn’t help but feel your ears burn in response in embarrassment.

you discreetly looked to the other girls to see if maybe you were overreacting but everyone else except for ellie seemed to be having a bit more of an extreme reaction.

you watched as dina bit her lip seductively and cat licked her lips in an almost hungry way.

ellie seemed to be the only one not affected and just stared at the action with a clearly amused look.

the next activity you were doing was trying on wedding dresses.

this was by far your favorite thing you done so far.

you waited patiently from your turn to try on one of the gorgeous wedding gowns and nearly jumped for joy when it was your turn.

as a child you always dreamed of marrying your knight in shining armor in a beautiful gown and you thought it would be another couple years before you could experience it.

however here you were today in a long white gown being fawned over by the rest of the girls.

“wow (y/n) this dress was made for you.” dina complimented you for the 5th time since you had entered the room.

“thank you dina but i still feel like you looked prettier in your dress.” you felt your cheeks warm at her compliment.

“no you definently take the cake today (y/n) you just look like you were born to be in a wedding dress.” riley continued while cat surprisingly nodded along.

“you guys are so sweet.” you clutched the bouquet of flowers to your chest tight.

you had never felt more beautiful in your life and you didn’t want this moment to end.

the moment was ruined though when you realized the only one that wasn’t over there was ellie who was cutting up some paper in the corner.

after you had noticed that maria walked into the room to check on you guys.

once in her line of sight ellie proudly showed off the paper she had been cutting which revealed a paper chain of a bunch off girl is holding hands.

maria huffed before stomping off.

you didn’t understand ellie at all.

you didn’t understand why she had completely removed herself from the activity.

you didn’t understand why she wasn’t over there with the rest of you guys.

and you didn’t understand why she wasn’t showering you with compliments like everyone else.

did she have no desire to graduate this program and become normal again.

she was so confusing and you were completely clueless as to why it bothered you so much.

the last activity you did before taking a break was just to practice makeup.

this one easily slid its way into second place of your favorite activities.

makeup was such a fun way to express yourself and to be rewarded from doing it just made you feel ecstatic.

you finished your makeup much earlier than the other girls due to the fact that you had a lot more experience with it than the other girls.

when you looked up from your designated vanity you saw ellie and cat tucked away together in one of the chairs in the room while ellie playfully drew on cat’s arm.

the feeling that rose in your chest whenever you saw this was unfamiliar but you knew you didn’t like it.

what was so interesting about cat that made ellie want to spend all of her time with her?

you quickly shook your head to rid your brain of those thoughts and turned back to your vanity to see if there was any ways you could improve your already flawless makeup.

after a while of just staring at yourself in the mirror maria entered the room to tell you guys to change back into your uniform and meet her outside so you could have a small chat before lunch.

eventually you all made it over there and were now seated in a circle waiting for maria to begin this outside group therapy session.

“alright girls who is next to report on their root?” mary asked the group softly.

everyone simultaneously turned their head to face you.

you sighed when you felt all of their eyes on you and reluctantly gave a response.

“well i’ve been thinking really hard about what may be the root of my l-lesbianism but i can’t seem to come up with someone.” you twiddle with your finger awkwardly.

“i think pom poms over there is just to afraid to share hers with the group.” ellie rolled her eyes at your response.

“i am not ellie i really just haven’t come up with one what’s yours anyways?” you give the freckle faced girl what you considered a sassy comeback.

“pfft i don’t have to tell you my root i’m brave enough to own up to mine we’re the ones waiting on you to do the same.” ellie gives you a smirk.

you huff and prepare to respond until mary cuts into the tense conversation.

“well actually ellie i think it might be beneficial for (y/n) to be reminded of all of your roots to maybe make her realize what hers is.” maria gives ellie a tight smile. “why don’t you go first.”

“my mom got married in pants.” ellie gives what sounds like a sarcastic response.

everyone claps after she had shared hers and maria called on the next person to go.

“dina.”

“went to an all girls boarding school.” dina replied smoothly.

the group erupted in applause and then maria called on cat to go next.

“i was born in france.” cat sighed.

immidatkley after applause followed and finally it was riley’s turn.

“i like balls.” riley responded plainly.

you all clapped until it eventually died down.

“well thank you from that riley.” maria sent her a smile.

“you see how easy it is (y/n) all you have to do is dig deep down inside your mind right into those memories that cause you pain or sadness and find your root.” maria concluded the conversation.

“and now dina will you come up here.” dina followed her directions and stood up to stand next to her.

once dina was still next to her maia started up again.

“the next thing on the agenda today will be to experience one of the best things about the heterosexual experience.” she paused briefly to build suspense. “friendship!”

“so next i will need you guys to find a partner to be paired up with for the rest of the program.”

since there wasn’t that many of you getting a partner wasn’t too difficult.

however since there was an odd number of people dina was forced to partner with maria while riley and cat ended up together and you were stuck with ellie.

you weren’t sure hwy exactly cat and ellie didn’t decide to partner up together but you decided to not ask any questions because this now gave you a chance to study and maybe further understand the confusing brain of ellie.

“now that we all have your partners sometime later tonight i would like you to practice with these.” maria help up a deck of cards that looked different from anyone you had ever seen or played with before.

after dinner ellie called you over to practice the cards so that she could make quick work of it and go to sleep.

after that you found were maria had placed the cards, grabbed a deck, and took a seat across from eachother in the designated area where you were supposed to be practicing the cards.

you weren’t very sure on what you were supposed to be doing but held up a card to maybe kickstart the game.

the first card you held up was one with a red background and a woman throwing away trash with a bright smile on her face.

“it’s a lady.” ellie shot out the first thing that came to her mind.

“well uh yeah but what else.” you attempted to urge her to deepen her description.

“i don’t know.”

you rolled her eyes at her uninterested response and tried to help her out.

“she’s also a mother, a wife, and a daughter.”

ellie nodded along with an almost blank look on her face.

“once you learn about the important roles women have you can stop objectifying them.” you sigh softly.

“well have you done that?” ellie snatched the deck out of your hand to investigate them herself.

“i w-well i’m still trying to look for my root.” you stutter out a pathetic response.

“oh yeah must be so hard to think about other stuff when your princess brain doesn’t allow you to dwell on anything that isn’t dresses and makeup.” ellie hums rudely.

you gasp at the meanness of her words and defiantly cross your arms in front of your chest.

“i’ll have you know i’m actually very smart i make straight a’s in school.” you defend yourself to ellie even though she’s obviously not listening.

“it’s your turn.” ellie finally stops fiddling up the cards and shows you one she had obviously messed with.

the card displayed a very well developed women obviously rest out of the shower.

you squeak in shock once you process the picture and almost curse when you feel ellie pinch your arm hard.

“you’re gonna have to be more prepared for temptation in the real world (y/n).” elllie gives you a shit eating grin, obviously very pleased with her own little prank.

in that instance you wanted to do nothing more than slap ellie right across the face but decided to be more ladylike and opt for giving her a glare and stomping off to the sleeping quarters.

the next day you were continuing to work on the whole housewife lifestyle but it was more focused on childcare.

unfortunately it wasn’t similar to yesterday and there was a lot more lecturing involved and only one hands on activity.

after you had made it through the third and final lecture it was time to simulate changing a baby’s diaper using realistic baby dolls.

much to your dismay this activity required to use teamwork to work with your partner.

you were still quite upset at ellie for the way that she had treated you last night but did your best to try and start fresh today.

“make sure you work together with your partner to successfully put this diaper on because if you don’t manage the consequence may be quite inconveniencing i used food dye as the urine to raise the stakes a bit……” maria’s speech turned into background noise as you begun to argue with ellie.

“dude that’s the wrong tab.” ellie tried to snatch the diaper out of your hand.

“no it is not you’re the one doing it wrong can you just hold it still for me so i can handle this.” you snatch the diaper back from her.

you continued to go back and forth with the baby not even realizing maria had walked up to you two to reprimand you for all of the arguing.

while you wrestled the baby in between you two the pee ended up releasing and purple food dye splashed all over maria’s face.

once you saw the absolutely livid look on maria’s purple covered face you and ellie immediately looked at eachother and bit your tongues to hide the laughter.

“why don’t i go get you guys another doll.” maria sighs while attempting to wipe the color off of her face before turning around to retrieve another doll for your pair.

as soon as she left you and ellie looked at each other again and burst into a fit of giggles.

this was the first time you had heard ellie genuinely laugh and you were shocked at how soft and melodic it was.

you wanted to make her laugh again.

maybe getting partnered up with ellie wouldn’t be so bad.

a/n: i am actually so incredibly shocked that i ended up being able to finish this chapter i was so exhausted before starting this but i stil somehow managed to end up in through. we are finally getting somewhere with ellie and i am so excited to right more interactions between both of them. anyways thank you guys so much for the support on the series so far i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!!

taglist: @st4r-b3rries @dollyvuu @lvlymicha @jellyfishrnice @machetegirl109 @smiths-fan--13 @elliewilliamssrealgf @ravyaryn @yuhgetintoonit @nelzooo @luvmily @dearestdolly444 @venuzasmuse @madislament

[archangeldyke-all]

Ciao amore, just finished writing down an idea for fake hating with sevika. Not fake dating- fake hating. Sevika and reader being all like enemies in public, but then behind closed doors 🤭🤭

Would love to see you do something with this as well bc I know your take is just gonna be 😚🤌🏽 chefs kiss good fr

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

'the last drop' and 'the eye of zaun' have been in a feud for years.

one is owned by vander, one is owned by silco. they've been trying to put each other out of business since their bitter divorce five years ago. the two bars sit across the street from one another, and the owners live in the apartments on top, their four children swapping homes every week.

a lot of locals take the feud really seriously-- there are frequent brawls in the middle of the street when patrons cross paths. vander's customers are all 'old farts', and silco's are all 'trendy punks,' so there's always some kind of issue that's got both bars up in arms and upset.

you try not to get involved. you just keep your head down, wipe down tables, and collect tips.

if you'd known that the man interviewing you was in some kind of lifelong psycho-sexual feud with his ex-husband, you wouldn't have taken the fucking job-- but here you are.

the door to the last drop slams open and you jump, turning around to watch vander storm into the bar. "i'm gonna fuckin' kill him!" he shouts.

at the bar where she's eating maraschino cherries by the handful, jinx scoffs. "you say that every day, pops."

"you tell your father that if he ever tries to steal my fucking cocktail napkins again i'll strangle him." vander huffs. then he turns, and points at you. "rookie." he grunts.

you roll your eyes. "yeah?"

"go across the street and steal all their toilet paper. jinx, go with her."

"i got homework, pops!" jinx groans, desperate for any reason to get out of her dads' constant scheming.

"fine, go alone. take it all!" he demands.

you just shrug and prop your broom up, happy to have a reason to take a break. you'll take a roll or two, but leave enough for the customers to wipe their asses. you're not a monster.

sneaking into the eye of the city is easy, thieram gives just as many fucks about the feud as you do-- which is none. you grab a trashbag from the janitor's closet, then head into the womens' room, ready to begin your thievery.

you get about three rolls in your trash bag before the door swings open, and sevika bursts into laughter.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

you smile from where you're breaking into the next toilet paper dispenser. "you guys stole our napkins? so we're taking your toilet paper. don't worry, i left the stash in the janitor's closet there for you." you say.

sevika snorts and flicks the bolt on the women's room, helping you off the ground and pulling her in your arms. "hey, baby." she greets.

you smile and kiss her lips. "hi, sev." you whisper.

"it's gonna be a long fucking night for us. it's their anniversary." she says.

you groan, burying your head against your girlfriend's shoulder.

you didn't mean to fall in love with your should-be nemisis, what with sevika being silco's bartender and you being vander's. but-- neither of you have any personal stakes in the beef, and your attraction was impossible to deny, and one night as the two of you were trying to impress your respective bosses by shit talking one another, you ended up charming each other, making one another laugh at the insults you threw either way-- and by the time your bosses were leaving to pick the kids up from their after school activities, you and sevika were exchanging numbers.

and now, you're in love, and you're trying your very best not to let anyone know.

"it's surprising that the kids are all so well-adjusted given how stupid their dads are." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"you crashing at mine after work tonight or should i go to yours?"

"depends on what you want for dinner. yours is closer to that chinese place, but we could get italian if we go to mine."

"ooh, fuck, pasta sounds so fucking good. let's go to yours." sevika says. you smile and kiss her lips.

"sounds like a date, baby." you giggle.

just as you're about to leave her arms and head to the men's room to complete your stealth mission, the handle starts to rattle.

"who is it?" sevika calls, panicked.

"i gotta pee!" jinx calls through the door.

"it's not your week here!" sevika screams. she looks at you with a wild expression, both of you trying to figure out an alibi to explain toe jinx why you're locked in a bathroom together.

"pops ran outta cherries so i came here for more. lemme in!" she squeals.

sevika huffs, shrugs helplessly, kisses your cheek, then throws you over her shoulder. you yelp, and start struggling in her grasp.

she throws the door open and glares down at jinx. "i caught this rat spying on the last drop! stealing all our toilet paper!" she growls, jostling you on her shoulder. you muffle your giggles with your hand.

"lemme go you asshole!" you whine, wiggling in her arms, pinching her ass a bit. she jumps, and you bite back your grin.

"ugh, i don't care!" jinx whines. "get outta my way, i gotta go!" she shoves sevika to the side, then runs into the bathroom.

sevika sets you back down in the center of the bar.

"quick thinking." you giggle. sevika's still blushing from the pinch you'd gotten in on her ass, and you kiss her pink cheek. "see you later, baby." you whisper just as silco pushes into the bar.

you jump away from sevika, sprinting out of the bar like you're making a great getaway, and she chases after you, screaming to silco about your horrible theft.

vander berates you for only managing to steal three rolls, but you smile for the rest of the night.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸 🇯🇵 🗼Jules Kounde (1/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @peyiswriting @that-90s-girllll @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0

A/N: Jules is in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you're a Jules girl, please let me know and I'll tag you in more chapters.

The humid air of Tokyo hit Jules like a wall as he stepped off the plane, his muscles aching from the 13-hour flight. Narita International Airport buzzed with activity, a cacophony of announcements in Japanese and English filling the air. Jules popped a cherry dum dum in his mouth, the sweet flavor a small comfort as he trudged alongside his friends Wilhelm, AK, and his half-brother Nicholas towards baggage claim, navigating through the sea of travelers.

"Yo, ce décalage horaire n'est pas une blague (Yo, this jet lag is no joke)," Nicholas grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"C’est vrai (Facts)," Wilhelm agreed, stifling a yawn.

As they collected their luggage and made their way to the hotel shuttle, Jules couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement beneath the exhaustion. This trip was meant to be a distraction, a way to shake off the disappointment of the Euros and clear his head before the upcoming season with FC Barcelona.

The thought of training camp loomed in the back of his mind. Jules silently prayed for an injury-free season, where he could continue to prove himself and silence the doubters. But for now, he pushed those worries aside. It was time to live in the moment.

The shuttle wound its way through Tokyo's neon-lit streets, skyscrapers towering above them. Jules pressed his forehead against the cool window, watching as businessmen in crisp suits hurried past izakayas and pachinko parlors. The city was a mesmerizing blend of tradition and modernity, and Jules found himself eager to explore.

"Tu penses qu'on aura le temps de visiter les temples? (Do you think we'll have time to visit the temples?)," AK asked, his eyes wide as he took in the city.

"Bien sûr (Of course)," Jules replied. "Nous avons deux semaines (We have two weeks)."

Their hotel, a gleaming high-rise in the trendy Shibuya district, loomed before them. The lobby was a vision of minimalist luxury, all sleek lines and soft lighting. As they approached the check-in counter, dragging their suitcases behind them, Jules's attention was immediately captured by a group of women ahead of them in line.

"Merde (Fuck)," he muttered under his breath, the dum dum stick moving to the corner of his mouth.

There were four of them, all stunning in their own right. But one, in particular, caught his eye. She was fine as hell, with curves that reminded him of Pam Grier in her prime, and her skin was a deep, rich cocoa. Jules's eyes traveled up to her full, pouty lips, currently curved in laughter at something her friend had said. She wore her natural hair in two perfect puffs, giving her this effortless 90s vibe that he found irresistible.

Once the girls finished checking in, Jules couldn't help but notice the others as well. One rocked long braids that cascaded down her back, another sported a short curly style with faded sides that highlighted her cheekbones, and the third had a blonde weave that caught the light as she moved.

"Ce sont tous fraîches (They're all baddies)," AK whispered, nudging Jules.

Jules nodded, his eyes still fixed on the girl with the puffs. There was something about her, an energy that drew him in. As the group of women headed towards the elevators, she turned, and their eyes met. She flashed him a bright smile that made his heart skip a beat, just as the elevator doors closed.

"Jules!" Wilhelm's voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Hein? Quoi? (Huh? What?)"

Wilhelm rolled his eyes. "Ton passeport, mec. La réceptionniste en a besoin (Your passport, man. The receptionist needs it)."

"Ah, oui, bien sûr (Oh, yeah, of course)." Jules fumbled for his passport, his mind still on the mystery girl's smile.

They checked in, and Jules couldn't shake the feeling that this trip might turn out to be more interesting than he'd anticipated.

"On est à quel étage? (What floor are we on?)" Wilhelm asked as they headed to the elevators.

"Le quinzième (Fifteenth)," Nicholas replied, studying the key cards.

As the elevator doors closed, Jules found himself hoping he'd run into the girl with the puffs again. Tokyo was a big city, but stranger things had happened. With a grin, he chewed on the dum dum in his mouth. This vacation was already looking up.

Ayo stepped into the luxurious suite, her eyes widening as she took in the panoramic view of Tokyo's skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sprawled before them, a mesmerizing tapestry of lights against the darkening sky.

"Damn, this is bougie as hell!" Nikki exclaimed, her long braids swinging as she spun around the spacious living area.

Gigi ran her hand through her blonde weave as she glanced at the sleek furniture. "One Management really hooked us up."

"They better have," Nikki chimed in. "Our girl's about to take over the modeling world."

Ayo smiled modestly, still processing the whirlwind of the past few months. She had recently signed with One Management, a top-tier agency with offices across Europe, Asia, and the US. This trip to Tokyo was a gift from her friends and newest management team, a last hurrah before she moved from New York to London to further her blossoming career.

Symone, sporting a chic short hairstyle with faded sides, squeezed her shoulder. "After that Savage X Fenty show? Girl, the world is your oyster."

Ayo's recent success modeling for Rihanna's lingerie line had catapulted her into a new echelon of the fashion world. It was surreal, exciting, and more than a little terrifying.

"This trip is exactly what I needed before the big move," Ayo said, gratitude welling up in her chest as she looked at her friends. "Thank you guys, seriously."

Symone then made a beeline for the mini-bar. "Girls, we need to celebrate! Shots?"

Ayo chuckled, shaking her head. "Sy, it's barely 6 PM, and we're exhausted from the flight."

"Come on, just one!" Symone pleaded, already pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker.

Gigi yawned dramatically. "Count me out. I need a nap before dinner."

"Same here," Nikki agreed. "What's the plan for food anyway?"

They quickly decided to eat at the hotel restaurant for their first night, too tired to venture out into the city just yet.

As Gigi and Nikki retreated to their rooms, Ayo found herself drawn back to the window. Her mind wandered to the cute guy with dreads she'd spotted in the lobby. There was something about him…

"Earth to Ayo!" Symone's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Shot time, bitch!"

Ayo laughed, accepting the glass. "That's my girl," Symone grinned, sticking out her tongue.

They clinked glasses and downed the whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction from Ayo's jet lag. As they settled onto the plush couch, Symone's eyes welled up unexpectedly.

"Who would've thought four girls from Jersey would end up in Tokyo?" she mused, her voice thick with emotion.

Ayo nudged her playfully. "You say that every trip, SySy."

"Because it's true!" Symone insisted, pouring another round. "I'm just… I'm gonna miss you, you know?"

"Oh, SySy," Ayo crooned, wrapping her friend in a tight hug. "I'm gonna miss you too."

Symone sniffled, trying to lighten the mood. "You just had to go to boring-ass London, huh? Old 'God save the King' ass…"

Ayo rolled her eyes affectionately, well-versed in Symone's habit of using humor to deflect her true feelings. They chatted for a while longer, reminiscing about their journey from New Jersey to this moment.

Eventually, Symone yawned. "Alright, I need a power nap before dinner. Don't let me sleep too long!"

As Symone disappeared into her room, Ayo's phone buzzed. She sighed heavily when she saw the name: Jamaal. Her ex, who never seemed to get the hint. Without reading it, she deleted the text.

"Leave the past in the past," she murmured, taking one last shot. It was time to focus on her future – London, One Management, and all the possibilities that lay ahead.

With that thought, Ayo made her way to her bedroom. She barely registered the decor before collapsing face-first onto the plush bed, letting the exhaustion of travel and the warmth of whiskey lull her into a much-needed nap.

A couple of hours later, the girls emerged from their rooms, dressed for dinner at the hotel's restaurant. Ayo wore a sleek black slip dress that hugged her curves, paired with strappy heels. Symone rocked a vibrant yellow pantsuit that complemented her short, faded hairstyle. Gigi opted for a flowy floral maxi dress, her blonde weave styled in loose waves. Nikki chose a chic off-shoulder jumpsuit, her braids swept into an elegant updo.

As they approached the restaurant, they paused to admire its exterior. The design seamlessly blended modern aesthetics with traditional Japanese elements, creating an inviting atmosphere.

"We need a group selfie!" Symone declared excitedly.

Being the tallest, Ayo extended her arm to take the photos. They huddled together, striking poses and laughing. After a few attempts, they scrutinized the results, each finding something to critique.

"Let's try one more," Gigi suggested.

As Ayo prepared to take another shot, a slightly deep voice with a heavy accent called out, "Would you like me to take the photo instead?"

The girls turned towards the voice, and Ayo's breath caught in her throat. It was the guy from the lobby earlier. He was even more striking up close. His dreads were neatly styled, and he wore a Versace button-down with a few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest and a gold Cuban link chain. His feet were adorned with stylish huaraches. The scent of his cologne wafted over, a intoxicating mix of citrus and wood.

"Damn, he fine as fuck," Symone muttered, not quite under her breath.

The corners of his mouth quirked up, clearly having heard Symone's not-so-discreet comment.

"Sure," Ayo said softly, handing him her phone.

He instructed the girls on how to pose, squatting down to capture different angles. Ayo couldn't help but notice his friends behind him - all different shades of brown, with fresh haircuts and equally stylish outfits.

After taking several photos, he handed the phone back to Ayo with a smile. The girls crowded around, nodding in approval at the results.

"Are they good?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Ayo replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

He nodded and rejoined his friends, heading into the restaurant.

"Ooh! He was feeling you," Gigi drawled, fanning herself. "That is a man, Savannah!"

The others laughed in agreement.

"Girl, you neva lied!" Symone concurred. "He a sexy little croissant, huh?" she teased in a fake French accent.

Ayo shook her head, laughing despite herself.

"And he had them eyes for you, Ayo," Nikki added.

"What? No, he didn't," Ayo protested.

"Yes, he did," her friends chorused as they entered the restaurant.

They spotted the guys waiting on a bench as Ayo approached the maître d' to check in.

"Good evening, how many in your party?" the maître d' asked politely.

"Four, please," Ayo replied.

The maître d' checked the reservation list and frowned slightly. "I'm afraid there's a bit of a wait. We have a group of four ahead of you, and it will be about an hour and a half before we can seat you."

Ayo's eyes widened in shock. "An hour and a half?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly.

She turned back to her friends, who were waiting expectantly.

"Girls, we've got a problem," Ayo said, rejoining the group. "They're saying it's going to be a 90-minute wait."

"What?" Symone exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

Gigi groaned. "I'm starving already. I can't wait that long."

Nikki shook her head in disbelief. "There's got to be another option, right?"

One of the guys from the other group - dark-skinned with a faded low cut caesar and also sporting a French accent - approached them. "Would you like to get a table together?" he offered.

"Sure!" Symone replied, perhaps too eagerly.

The guy then went over to the maître d'. "Excuse me, do you have a table for eight available?"

The maître d' checked his list and nodded. "Yes, we do. Would you like to be seated now?"

"Oui," he replied with a smile.

The maître d' gathered menus and gestured for the group to follow. "Right this way, please."

As they walked, one of the guys – the one with dreads who had taken their photo – motioned to the girls. "After you, madames," he said with a slight bow and a charming smile.

The girls exchanged excited glances as they followed the maître d', with the guys trailing behind.

"Here we are," the maître d' announced, stopping at a large, circular table. "Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal."

As they settled into their seats, Ayo found herself next to the dreaded Adonis. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught another whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

"I hope you don't mind us crashing your dinner," he said softly, his accent making the words sound like music.

Ayo smiled, trying to keep her composure. "Not at all. Thanks for the save."

As the rest of the group got comfortable, Ayo silently prayed that her friends – especially Symone – wouldn't embarrass her too much during dinner. But judging by the mischievous glint in Symone's eye from across the table, Ayo knew she was in for an interesting evening.

The group settled in, perusing their menus in comfortable silence. After a few moments, the guy with the faded low cut caesar, spoke up.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves properly. I'm AK," he said with a warm smile.

The tawny-toned guy with the tapered 'fro nodded. "Wilhelm."

"Nicholas," added the dark-skinned guy with the lowcut fade.

"And I'm Jules," said the cutie with the dreads next to Ayo.

The girls followed suit, each introducing themselves in turn.

As they finished, a waiter approached. "Good evening. May I take your drink order?"

Symone piped up immediately. "We'll have sake for the table, please!"

Half the girls groaned in unison. Nikki shot Symone a look. "Girl, are you trying to get us all fucked up?"

Symone pointed to herself innocently, while Gigi gave her a knowing look. The guys chuckled, exchanging comments in French.

Nikki glanced at each of them. "Hey, hey, none of that oui oui stuff, alright? English only."

Nicholas put up his hands in mock defense. "Damn, baby girl, we don't want no smoke."

Nikki gave him a flirtatious smile in response, and Ayo stared at Gigi in a silent plea to watch her cousin. Nikki was known for being a bit... frisky. If Symone was the loudmouth of the group, Nikki was the self-proclaimed "hoe" - and they meant that with all due respect.

The waiter continued taking orders. Jules requested a rum and coke, his accent making Ayo shiver slightly. She ordered a vodka, lime, and soda water.

Ayo felt Jules' arm rest at the back of her seat, his fingers lightly touching the exposed skin of her neck. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

"Y-yeah, sure," she managed to reply.

As they waited for their drinks, the conversation flowed. The guys asked what brought the girls to Tokyo, and they explained Ayo's modeling career and celebrating her recent signing to a new management agency.

"Savage X Fenty? That's impressive," Wilhelm said. "Did you meet Rihanna?"

Ayo nodded. "Yeah, I met the whole fam, including A$AP Rocky and their two little ones. The kids are adorable, and Rihanna's really nice."

Nikki chimed in, "Rihanna even follows Ayo on Insta."

The guys' eyebrows raised in admiration.

Symone turned the question back on them. "What about you guys? What brings you to Tokyo?"

The men exchanged glances before AK answered, "It's a guys' trip before work makes us all busy again." They seemed reluctant to elaborate, and the girls didn't push further.

The waiter returned with their drinks, including a large bottle of sake. With practiced precision, he began the traditional sake pouring ceremony. He held the tokkuri (sake bottle) with both hands, turning it slightly as he poured into each person's ochoko (small sake cup). The liquid flowed smoothly, filling each cup precisely to the brim without spilling a drop.

As the waiter finished pouring, he took their food orders. They chose a mix of family-style dishes to share and individual entrees. Ayo ordered the miso-glazed black cod, while Jules opted for the wagyu beef teppanyaki. The table also agreed on an assortment of sushi rolls, tempura, and a large bowl of ramen to share.

Jules' arm tightened around the back of Ayo's seat, and he leaned closer to her. Symone caught Ayo's eye from across the table, mouthing "Get it!" with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. Ayo immediately shook her head, inwardly reminding herself that the last thing she needed was to end up with a guy on this trip. That was more Nikki's style, and besides, even though they were sharing a meal, these guys were still strangers.

The waiter approached their table once more, arms laden with steaming dishes. "Pardon me, your meals are ready."

He began setting down the plates, announcing each dish as he placed them on the table. "Miso-glazed black cod for the lady, wagyu beef teppanyaki for the gentleman. And here are your shared dishes: assorted sushi rolls, tempura, and a large bowl of ramen."

The group's eyes widened at the sight and aroma of the food. "This looks amazing," Ayo breathed, picking up her chopsticks.

They began to dig in and the conversation turned to their plans for the next couple of weeks.

Nicholas swallowed a bite of sushi before speaking. "So, what's on your itinerary while you're here?"

Symone counted off on her fingers. "Well, we're doing Tokyo for a few days, then Kyoto, and finishing up in Osaka."

"No way," Nicholas replied, his eyebrows raised. "That's pretty much exactly what we're doing too."

Gigi's eyes lit up. "We should totally link up again! Since we're headed to the same places and all."

Wilhelm nodded enthusiastically, pausing from his tempura. "That's not a bad idea at all. What do you guys think?"

"I'm down," AK chimed in. "It'd be cool to explore with some new friends."

Jules smiled, his eyes lingering on Ayo. "Sounds good to me. I'd like to get to know you all a bit better." As he spoke, his tongue darted out to lick his top lip seductively.

Ayo felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly took a sip of her drink to hide her reaction. "Yeah, that could be fun," she managed to say, trying to keep her voice steady.

Suddenly, a buzz in Ayo's lap made her jump slightly. She glanced down at her phone to see a text in their group chat from Symone: "BIIIIIITTTTTTTCCCCCCCCHHHHHH!"

Another message quickly followed from Nikki: "Jules wants to eat you up like a creme brulee. Give that nigga a bite, sis! 😉"

Ayo shook her head, choosing not to reply to the thread. Her mind was racing. She knew she shouldn't do anything with Jules, but the way he occasionally caressed her skin, his intense stares, and those full lips he kept licking were seriously testing her resolve. She reminded herself that the least of her worries should be surrounding men; she needed to focus on her move to London and securing her bag.

As they continued eating, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and casual flirtation. Jules and Ayo found themselves engrossed in their own private conversation.

"So, London, huh?" Jules murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "That's quite a change from New York."

Ayo nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine. "Yeah, it's a big move. But it's an amazing opportunity for my career."

"I'm sure you'll take London by storm," he said, his fingers tracing light patterns on her shoulder. "They won't know what hit them."

Ayo laughed softly, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "We'll see about that. What about you? What do you do?"

Jules hesitated for a moment before answering. "I'm in sports."

"Oh?" Ayo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind?"

A small smile played on his lips. "Football."

Ayo's eyes widened slightly. She might not follow European football closely, but even she knew that was a big deal. "Wow, that's impressive."

There was still a bit of mystery beyond his answer, but Ayo still found herself increasingly drawn to Jules. His charm was undeniable, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the room, but a small voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her of her goals, her impending move, and the complications that could arise from a vacation fling. However, she couldn't help but wonder what might happen if she allowed herself to give in to the temptation sitting right next to her. Jesus knows that it's been too long since she was physical with a man, and her rose toy needed a break.

Fuck me.

This was going to be a long ass two weeks.

After dinner, Jules settled the bill and the group hailed a taxi to head to a nearby club. This wasn't just any taxi—it was one of those karaoke taxis, complete with neon lights and a vibrant interior. The seats were plush, covered in shiny, colorful fabric that reflected the pulsating lights. Microphones hung from the ceiling, ready for an impromptu performance, and small screens displayed lyrics. Jules and Ayo squeezed into the very back seat, their bodies pressed close in the tight space.

Gigi and Symone began belting out Muni Long's "Made for Me," their off-key voices filling the cab.

"Twin… where have you been? Nobody loves me like you do…"

Nikki groaned, "I didn't come to Tokyo for this sad shit. Driver, can you play something else?"

The driver responded in broken English, "You like Megan Thee Stallion?"

A chorus of enthusiastic "Hell yes!" and "Yeah!" erupted from the girls. The driver grinned and switched the music, blasting Megan Thee Stallion's latest hits. Symone and Gigi immediately started twerking, teasing the guys to turn up. The guys laughed, hyping them up and taking their phones out to record the antics. Jules shook his head in mock disappointment, but his eyes were full of amusement.

When they finally made it to the club, AK tipped the driver generously before Jules covered their entrance fee. Inside, pulsing lights and thumping bass greeted them. They secured a small booth, and a server quickly approached to take their drink orders. Jules ordered a round for the table.

Jules found himself having a great time, but his attention kept drifting to Ayo. He loved the way her name felt on his tongue, and he couldn't help but admire how stunning she looked. The flirting at dinner had left him wanting more, her scent and their brief touches lingering in his mind.

Taking a big swig of his drink, Jules leaned closer to Ayo. "Are you having fun?" he asked.

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I am."

"You seem like the quieter one in your group. Am I right?"Ayo nodded again, and Jules chuckled. "Same here with my friends. Don't worry, I'll do the talking for both of us."

Ayo giggled at that, and Jules felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sound. He winked at her, enjoying their growing connection and the easy rapport between them.

The music shifted from the heavy bass of a hip-hop song to the smooth, infectious rhythm of Afrobeats. Jules inclined his head towards the semi-filled dance floor. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"Huh?" Ayo said, surprised.

"Dance? With me?" Jules repeated.

Ayo hesitated. "No."

"Please?" he pleaded, giving her a puppy dog look. "Here, take a shot to take the edge off," he said, pouring her a shot.

Ayo accepted the shot tentatively, then shrugged and downed it quickly. She grimaced as the alcohol burned its way down, and Jules chuckled lightly. "C'mon, ma belle," he coaxed, leading her to the dance floor.

"C'est parti, Jules! (Here we go, Jules!)" Nicholas commented, patting Jules on the back as he led Ayo to the middle of the dance floor. Jules gestured with his finger for her to turn around. Ayo did as instructed, feeling Jules's front flush against her back, his hips moving into a slow wine, tempting her to do the same with her hips.

"Fuck," he murmured in her ear, his whiskey-scented breath teasing her and making her arousal grow. "You're so sexy, Ayo."

Ayo smiled as his hands on her waist tightened and his hips ground harder against her, allowing her to feel his hardened dick at the crack of her ass. Jules inwardly hissed at the friction, taking a deep inhale of her scent as they moved to the beat.

He was hard beyond measure, his length straining against the confines and his pant's zipper and all he yearned for was to be buried to the hilt inside of her. After tonight, Jules knew it would be hard not to want her. He affirmed to himself that a little vacation fling was exactly what he needed before the season started.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

women into f1 - how are we feeling at the moment?

(edit - at the end of the day they’re all millionaires who don’t actually give a shit about anything other than their money and their name. just opening out a discussion, is all. I know there are no angels in this situation.)

I think media day today has really changed the way we’re looking at certain people and certain things.

Daniel calling possible SA/harassment allegations “noise and distraction” and saying “he hope it all goes away soon”. Valterri and Lance saying “I’m just here to drive cars.” Nico saying “it really doesn’t affect me.”

These are people with wives, daughters, sisters and partners that are in the paddock all the time. All you’ve got to say is something along the lines of I hope the investigation is impartial and thorough, the paddock should be a safe place for all, we should be promoting diversity etc etc… I mean. They’ve been PR trained and they’re still saying the wrong thing.

Lewis is the only one giving any sensible answers, which makes sense. He’s the only one that’s ever really put his money where his mouth is in terms of talking about diversity, equality, etc, and taking actions to match it.

There are millions of women/young women into the sport. Some like myself who’ve been watching since they were kids, some who are new to it. And once again, a male dominated sport has proven itself to be solely male centric, a sport built by men protecting men. These are drivers who want to talk about equality when it’s trendy, but only really care about themselves and their paycheck.

I could probably talk about this for hours, but I just wanted to open it out to any of my f1 girls here, because I’d love for it to be a discussion, rather than me just ranting. <3

[blekonwatch]

From Classic to Trendy: How to Choose a Watch that Matches Your Style as a Woman

A watch is more than just a timekeeping device; it's also a fashion statement that can complement your style and showcase your personality. But with so many styles and brands to choose from, it can be overwhelming to find the perfect watch that matches your unique taste. As a woman, you might feel torn between classic and trendy styles, wondering which one is the right fit for you. The good news is that you don't have to choose just one. With a little guidance, you can select a watch that combines the best of both worlds, allowing you to express your individuality while keeping up with the latest fashion trends. In this article, we'll explore some tips on how to choose a watch that matches your style as a woman, whether you prefer a timeless and elegant look or a bold and modern one. So, let's dive in and discover your perfect watch!

Understanding your personal style

Before you start browsing for watches, take some time to understand your personal style. Are you someone who likes to keep things classic and elegant, or do you prefer a more modern and edgy look? Think about the types of clothes you wear, the colors you gravitate towards, and the accessories you already own. This will help you narrow down your options and choose a watch that fits your style seamlessly.

Consider the occasions you'll be wearing your watch to as well. Do you need a watch for everyday wear, or are you looking for something to wear to special events? The type of watch you choose will depend on the answer to this question.

Most importantly, choose a watch that feels like you. Your watch should make you feel confident and comfortable, and it should reflect your personality.

Types of watches - classic vs trendy

When it comes to choosing a watch, you'll likely come across two main categories: classic and trendy. Classic watches are timeless and elegant, featuring simple designs and neutral colors. They're perfect for those who prefer a chic, understated look.

On the other hand, trendy watches are bold and eye-catching, featuring unique designs and colors. They're perfect for those who want to make a statement with their accessories and stay on top of the latest fashion trends.

Classic and trendy watches both have their advantages, and the type you choose will depend on your personal style and preferences.

Classic watch styles

Classic watch styles are perfect for those who prefer a timeless and elegant look. These watches often feature simple designs, neutral colors, and high-quality materials.

One popular classic watch style is the dress watch. These watches are typically thin and sleek, with leather or metal bands and simple faces. They're perfect for formal occasions and can be worn with everything from a little black dress to a pantsuit.

Another classic watch style is the sports watch. These watches are designed for durability and functionality, with features like water resistance, stopwatch functions, and durable materials like rubber or stainless steel. They're perfect for active women who want a watch that can keep up with their busy lifestyle.

Trendy watch styles

Trendy watch styles are perfect for those who want to make a statement with their accessories. These watches often feature unique designs, bright colors, and eye-catching details.

One trendy watch style is the smartwatch. These watches connect to your phone and allow you to receive notifications, track your fitness, and even make phone calls. They're perfect for tech-savvy women who want a watch that can do it all.

Another trendy watch style is the fashion watch. These watches come in a variety of designs, from animal prints to bold colors to oversized faces. They're perfect for women who want to stay on top of the latest fashion trends and make a statement with their accessories.

Choosing the right watch size

When it comes to choosing a watch, size matters. A watch that's too big or too small can look awkward and unflattering on your wrist. The size of the watch you choose will depend on your personal style and the size of your wrist.

If you have a small wrist, choose a watch with a smaller face and a narrow band. If you have a larger wrist, choose a watch with a larger face and a wider band. It's also important to consider the thickness of the watch – a watch that's too thick can look bulky and uncomfortable.

Watch materials and colors

The materials and colors of your watch are also important factors to consider. Classic watches often feature neutral colors like black, white, and silver, while trendy watches often feature bright colors and unique designs.

When it comes to materials, consider the durability and comfort of the watch. Leather bands are classic and timeless, while metal bands are durable and long-lasting. Rubber bands are perfect for sports watches, as they're comfortable and easy to clean.

Watchbands - leather, metal, and more

The watchband you choose can also make a big difference in the look and feel of your watch. Leather bands are classic and timeless, and they come in a variety of colors and textures. Metal bands are durable and long-lasting, and they can give your watch a more modern and edgy look.

Rubber bands are perfect for sports watches, as they're comfortable and easy to clean. Nylon bands are also a popular choice for sports watches, as they're lightweight and breathable.

How to match your watch with your outfit

Matching your watch with your outfit can be tricky, but there are a few tips you can follow to make it easier. If you're wearing a formal outfit, choose a classic watch with a leather band and a simple face. If you're wearing a casual outfit, choose a trendy watch with a unique design and a bright color.

When it comes to matching your watch with your jewelry, it's important to consider the colors and materials. If you're wearing gold jewelry, choose a watch with a gold band or a gold face. If you're wearing silver jewelry, choose a watch with a silver band or a silver face.

Watch maintenance and care

To keep your watch looking its best, it's important to take proper care of it. Clean your watch regularly with a soft cloth, and store it in a cool, dry place when you're not wearing it. If your watch is water-resistant, make sure you follow the manufacturer's guidelines for water exposure.

It's also important to have your watch serviced regularly to ensure that it's working properly. This can include replacing the battery, cleaning the movement, and repairing any damage.

Conclusion

Choosing a watch that matches your style as a woman can be a fun and exciting process. Whether you prefer a classic and timeless look or a bold and trendy one, there's a watch out there for you. By understanding your personal style, considering the types of watches available, and choosing the right size, materials, and colors, you can find a watch that complements your style and showcases your personality. So go ahead and start exploring your options – your perfect watch is waiting for you!