18+ only. NO MINORS. 28 y/o. They/Them/Theirs pronouns. Please no feminine terminology for me (i.e. ma'am, lady, girlie,ect.) Too many fandoms to count. Proud lizard parent.
F1 Racer!Robert "Bob" Floyd x Social Media!Reader x F1 Mechanic!Rhett Abbott.
MDI 18+ : nothing NSFW here but my blog is 18+.
This brain rot is has been violently encouraged by @sebsxphia and I can't be more thankful. I'm working on a blurp but it's slow going due to silly fingers. Please note that I have a casual understanding of F1 so if there are inaccuracies, that's 100% on me. I'm playing fast and loose with this. I have no experience with professional SM stuff so you can come for me over that too. All spelling and grammar issues are mine. My tenses are absolutely fucked. Enjoy. xo
Read more brain rot below:
Bob has been racing since he was a small tike. Go karts, dirt bikes, ect. As quiet as he is, he's a secret adrenaline junkie. He doesn't take too many crazy risks but he really likes the thrill. He's secretively competitive too and will kick your ass at Mario Kart every time without fail. He's worked his way up from the bottom to be in F1. I think he would drive for Red Bull because he would still be interested in planes and flying. He would do test piloting for them or a trainer for the test pilots since he's our favorite WSO. He's a fantastic teacher in more ways than one. ;) I think he would have served in the military at some point too, but idk what that timeline would look like. He would absolutely blow your secret relationship cover by kissing you after winning a championship. He can't help himself.
Rhett Abbott is our rough, rowdy, and grumpy mechanic on Bobby's team. I feel like someone went to one of his rodeos, talked to him afterwards about cars and said "I want this grumpy cat on our team." Rhett showed them the cars he's worked on, classic and newer. He has a passion with fiddling with things and making them run smoother. When he was offered an internship he was super nervous about leaving his teeny tiny town. He had never flown, hell he hadn't even seen the other side of the country. But he packed his bags, did his internship and never turned back. Rhett would test the durability of the car by bending you over it. (who cares that Bobby's car is worth millions of dollars).
Reader/You "Sunny" works for the same team the boys are on. This is pretty much a self insert bc I want to make silly videos with our favorites AND get paid. I've also seen the social media that red bull has done and I absolutely want to see the boys race swamp buggies and silly stuff like that. I know that Rhett would have to be Bobby's partner to do that which he could be (....hello another idea). Anyway I want them all to slowly fall in love and have fans be like "do you see what I'm seeing??" I want Sunny post thirst traps of the boys onto social media. (we all know they're out there). I want them to also have private thirst traps too. Sunny would give the fans what they want lol. Silly questions, hot edits, and much more. You absolutely wear merch with Bob's name on it. I want to make and sell the merch haha.
In conclusion: I'm in my F1 brain rot era (blame my partner) and I want my fictional boys to also be in F1. Drive fast, eat as- I mean drive fast eat grass :)
Don't repost my stuff or translate it or feed it into AI or I'll feed you to my bearded dragon.
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random anecdote for father's day: one time during a long car ride my dad asked me, "you're familiar with Murphy's Law, right?" and i was like "isn't that the one about how anything that can go wrong will go wrong?" and he said "yeah, exactly" and i said "why do you ask?" and he went "well, have you heard of Cole's Law?" and i said "no, actually, what's that?" and he said "it's mostly lettuce and carrots with a little dressing mixed in"
honestly just some real down and dirty nuts and bolts sex details i've seen wildly misrepresented out there for less experienced folks writing smut
precum: completely clear to slightly translucent, usually only a bead or two. not white (a sign of infection unless they JUST ejaculated and did not fully clear the urethra). not tons of it covering your hand or dripping down their balls (for effect, whatever, but you'd mostly see more precum as a result of lengthy denial/edging). taste is very mild, a bit salty, and varies little from person to person compared to cum or vaginal wetness.
cum: tastes wildly different from person to person and depending on what they ate, but generally has a base note of bitterness and sourness. cum will usually be a thick white liquid but sometimes will be thinner and more transluscent. older folks generally have more viscous cum that may be closer to cream color if you're really into Details. people generally do not have more than a few spurts of cum per orgasm unless you're writing hyperspermia or inflation or something.
vaginal wetness: day-to-day it's normal for it to range anywhere from clear and thin to white and creamy. that's all good. but the lubrication/arousal fluids released during sex are clear. you're only going to see white as a result of the day's previous discharge. please do not have your characters gushing white cream (unless there is also cum at play). they need miconazole.
squirting: the liquid is clear and thin. honestly like water. very very mild in both scent and flavor. can be just a dribble, can have a good amount of force behind it, more of a gush than a geyser. it's more like one uncontrollable pour of liquid than a series of spurts the way cum is.
vaginal flavor: the most accurate description ive ever come up with is drinking a moscow mule from a copper mug, but i recognize that's not accessible to many people. there's tartness and bitterness primarily, but there are often some deeper richer notes if you really wanna get into pussy sommelier stuff. varies a lot from person to person but the main flavor profile of acid and bitter is the core. you might also get a salty or musky note, especially at the end of the day. during the period, it pretty much just tastes like blood. no real way to sugarcoat that, although in fanfic people seem very committed to saying "pennies." it's blood. maybe a bit warmer tasting. like if blood is a squash then period blood is a sweet potato. if that's anything.
vaginal texture: silky. warm. always wet but moreso when aroused. arousal fluid is much more slippery than regular discharge. feel the inside of your cheek when your mouth is full of spit if you don't have a vagina you can put a couple fingers inside of. the vagina should not be tacky, sticky, gummy, or any other adjective you could also use to describe a piece of candy stuck half-melted onto your car's dash.
vaginal movement: the vagina gradually tightens for a few seconds before orgasm, when it clenches hard for a brief moment, and then pulses extremely quickly and then those pulses get slower. all of this happens within about thirty seconds. the clenching can be VERY strong and tight or it might be much softer like a flutter depending on the strength of the kegel muscles. that does not necessarily correlate with how "good" the orgasm is.
pubic hair: all people have coarse pubic hair, but the texture does vary from person to person quite a bit. some people have very tight coils and some are nearly straight. imo as with head hair, avoid describing it as anything but thick or coarse hair if you're trying to write x reader stuff.
circumcision: the vast majority of american men over 25 are circumcised to the point that most americans will see this as the default and might never even see an uncut dick irl. however, this is NOT AT ALL the normal in any other country on earth. please do your research and consider what suits your character! and if you're going to write someone uncut, PLEASE do not go yanking down their foreskin. uncut dicks are generally more sensitive as well.
ultimately, whatever floats your boat and knocks your rocks, but if you're aiming for more realistic smut and you don't have the personal experience to get some of those nasty details, maybe this will help
ive had sex with maybe 100 people in my day and i read a lot of fanfic and any time i see these written in weird ways i get so yoinked out of the moment like ah i see this writer is not familiar with what it is like to be in a vagina or holding a penis
shoutout to 5th grade me for having a college reading level and apparently using up all future motivation for actual college age me to read what I’m supposed to. you 10 year old asshole
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Many of you likely saw me posting this dress over the summer as I did a crazy thing and attempted to hand sew the whole in four days. In actuality, it only took 2 and a half -- which might be a new record for me, or just evidence of how I've improved in fitting 18th century gowns, but I digress.
If you've been around long enough to see my crazy historic costuming posts, you may be familiar with my "magic of fashionable rectangles" turn of phrase. This gown falls in this category, with the exception of one piece, which we'll discuss later.
First, some history!
The robe a l'anglaise -- aka the "English Gown" or "English Night Gown" -- was popular for most of the 18th century (i.e. the 1700s). We see the evolution of the style from the previous "mantua" style starting around the 1740s. They remain popular until the 1790s, where the traditional styles that get us to the Imperial/Regency eras totally take over. Here are some of my favorite examples:
Like so many styles of the 1700s, a robe a l'anglaise consists of large rectangle panels of fabric pleated to a fitted bodice with very minimal cutting. If you look at the 2 detail shots down on the second row, you can see the big box pleats stitched down the back. Very very similarly to the robe a la francaise (the "sacque" or "watteau" or "sack back" gown), the pleats are meant to preserve as much fabric as possible while also giving volume to the hem of the skirt.
These dresses were worn with and without skirt supports, and were worn by women throughout socio-economic classes. Poorer women would wear the skirts shorter (around ankle length) and without any supports so they could better do their work. Middle, aristocratic, and royal women would wear them longer (to the tops of their shoes) and over both panniers/pocket-hoops and a bum pad in later decades.
A Little Refresher:
Panniers/pocket hoops were popular from the 1740s through the early 1780s. They're the weird flat hoop skirts that give dresses that classic Versailles "lamp shade" look -- wide at the front but flat and slim from the side.
Bum pads became popular in the late 1770s and stayed popular until the end of the 1790s in a variety of sized and shapes. Basically, it was a big crescent shaped pillow that was tied around the waist to give that soft rounded look to the dress. Any gown you see from the 1780s will likely use them, as that was the dominant shape. Round and soft.
Alright, back to programming!
So, these are not difficult dresses, certainly not after you've figured out something like the robe a la francaise. Its the same principle: big rectangles, pleated down.
I decided to make mine out of Indian block print cotton fabric. I bought a 5 yard lot for $35 and basically used the whole thing. I've got some teeny scraps I could *maybe* use for a paper-pieced quilt, but thats about it.
This fabric is also historically accurate, which is a bonus. If we were talking about, say, playing a role at a museum of historic site, fabric like this would mark me as someone who was decently wealthy at certain points. Colorful printed cotton from Indian, like fabric I've picked here, would have been astronomically expensive when it was first introduced to Europe. It was novel. It was lightweight. It existed in that "its exotic" category that Europeans throughout history were so good at perpetuating.
BUT, the breakdown is this:
More colors = more dyes = more process and mordant = more time and money and value. Very thin, lightweight cotton in general was very highly valued and very expensive -- there was a point in time when cotton was more expensive than silk, adding to the long standing beef between England and France (but that's for another time -- or an ask, if you like!)
So a very fashionable, wealthy, fancy lady would have worn this... and I made it for $35 over the course of 3 days.
The more things change, the more they stay strange, huh?
So, the first thing I made with the lining. I don't have any photos of this, but I made it out of some scrappy stripped cotton I have lying around from a sundress I made, hated, and sold a while back.
After the lining, I moved on to the back pleating, which was a task. This process was more often planned on the actual wearer, then laid flat on a table to make sure the fabric was pleated evenly. I don't have a table that big BUT I do have a lot of floor space.
Once the back was finished, I moved on to the bodice again -- covering the lining with the floral fabric I was using -- and then to pleating the skirts. Just like my "bird dress" from January, the fabric was cut into panels meant to go over my pocket hoops. I sewed the side back seams, so the panels and the back pleating were all one piece, then pleated and stitched into place.
I even left a tiny gap in the stitching so I can reach my pockets without too much fuss. This is accurate too! Those pocket-hoops are called "pocket hoops" for a reason!
Then a fit check! Always fit check, even if you look ridiculous (like so):
AND THEN... two years passed. And I didn't finish the dress. And I didn't touch the stomacher. And, in fact, I made 4 OTHER costumes before I remembered that this one was languishing in the back of my costume closet.
So, I made a little video of the process start to finish. Of all the crappy pictures I posted to my story on Instagram as I was working, and set to the stupidest-but-tolerable song I could find.
God, I hope that works.
Anyway! If you have questions about this, or any of my other costumes, my ask box is open as are the comments. Feel free to ask!
@becks-things this is the rose print dress I was talking about. When I wrote this post (back when I wrote more long posts about my sewing), I hadn’t finished the dress. It’s finished now, but alas no finished photos yet! Someday!
This is so pretty! It's interesting to learn about cost breakdown and how it's changed. I also find it interesting how working class fashion differs from upper class. Functionality was so important for the work class whereas the upper class could be more frivolous and show off money.
"You're supposed to smoke over there." Someone said from behind Ilya.
Ilya almost dropped his cigarette. His English was shitty, but he had studied that sentence enough times over the years to understand it immediately. He didn't even think about his words much anymore, but it was impossible to avoid them.
He turned instinctively, and was face to face with Shane fucking Hollander.
Out of almost seven billion people, of course Ilya's soulmate had to be his fated rival. It was almost poetic. Still, Ilya had enough sense to realize just how bad this was.
Or: Shane says Ilya's soulmate words. Ilya vows to never speak a word to him to keep him from finding out. They fall in love anyway.
• the cadence of a secret by marigoldens
Did you figure anything out? Shane writes, and flips the page around for Ilya to read it.
Wont like the answer, Ilya’s written, in his quick hand.
So he doesn’t have to take the pen back, Shane just shrugs. What?
Ilya sits down at the desk for a steady surface to explain.
3 things
1 its curse. if true we can break it
2 its spell. if true we can break it
3 we are soulmates. if true we are fucked
“No,” Shane mutters, before he can stop himself. Immediately, he slams a hand over his mouth.
Or: Ilya and Shane are soulmates, and their bond prevents them from both talking and being apart. Unfortunately, the only thing that’ll make the pain stop is confessing the one thing they can say: that they’re in love.
• i've never needed a reason for keeping secrets from myself by blongblong
Shane’s immediate reaction is to say that he doesn't know when it started. He doesn’t know who his soulmate is. This is what he’s been telling himself for years, because if he stops for more than a second to think about how long he's been collecting little pieces of Ilya Rozanov, he thinks he'll spiral out of control.
He'll hit the deck like a firecracker dropped unceremoniously onto the sidewalk, burning wildly and spiralling haphazardly, until he's fizzled out with nothing left to show for himself but smoke, ashes, and the knowledge that his soul is bound to Rozanov's.
Or: shane hollander spends twenty-five years not thinking about his soulmate. the drawer in his apartment filled with cigarettes, toothpaste, and awful t-shirts says elsewise.
↪part 2
• say you'll see me again by jarpadsalecki
Shane Hollander was too far away in the stands for Ilya to see him earlier. Now here he is, up close. Shane Hollander, Canadian boy wonder, who Ilya is just about sick and tired of hearing about.
Shane, the boy he has been dreaming about since he was eight years old.
• underneath my skin is all you see by sapphicblight
Shane stuck his hand out. “Shane Hollander.”
He waited for… well, he didn’t know what. A flicker of recognition. Possibly surprise? Delight was perhaps a bit much to hope for, but maybe some kind of excitement about meeting one’s soulmate, the same giddy feeling that was swirling in Shane’s stomach just from standing face to face.
Ilya Rozanov gave him nothing. Just glanced between Shane’s face and his hand like Shane had offended him somehow, before finally taking it—
—and promptly turning back around to light his cigarette.
Or: In which Ilya Rozanov is the name on Shane’s wrist, but Shane Hollander is not on Ilya’s.
• the heart is hard to translate by catknives
Shane is twelve when he realizes he can understand Russian.
Or: in a world where you can understand whatever language(s) your soulmate speaks, it takes Shane and Ilya an embarrassing amount of time to realize they’re soulmates.
• Blizost by princepixel
So what is the plan now, Mr. Spreadsheet?
“Honestly I was kind of hoping your consciousness would just click back into your body once I touched you.” Shane scratches the back of his head.
You treat me like slap bracelet, Ilya complains.
Or: After a bad hit knocks Ilya’s consciousness out of his body — literally — Shane finds himself sheltering the soul of his decade-long situationship in the back of his head. Turns out it’s a lot harder to keep secrets when you share a body.
• i've been playing dead my whole life by writer_in_theory
“We knew when his words came in that he’d–” Yuna’s voice cracked around the idea, that specific word escaping her. “That he won’t have to know what it feels like to lose his soulmate.”
Because Shane was always going to go first. How must it have felt, to look upon her son and see those words, and know with complete certainty he would go first? Maybe it was better, having as vague of a word as Ilya did on his chest. At least he couldn’t think about it, couldn’t imagine scenarios in which it could be said.
“I assume,” Yuna said, pausing to take a deep breath as though to steel herself, “he said yours last night.”
Ilya nodded, admitting what he didn’t dare say out loud.
Or: AU where the last words you ever hear from your soulmate are tattooed on your chest. Ilya and Shane still argue over the party, Ilya still already chose Shane, and everything goes so much worse after Shane leaves.
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C’est Toi Shane does some vocal training to feel more at ease when she’s out and about, and Ilya likes hearing it because he likes knowing she’s comfortable.
What Ilya really loves, however, is when they’re home and she slips back to her natural voice. Especially in bed, it drives him nuts.
Sure signs that Shane is having a very very good time bouncing on it: her legs shake, her head drops forward, her voice goes raspy and low as she moans and begs and tells him how deep he is…
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
(original tags: she literally had tears in her eyes while she explained that her pikachu had a boy tail shape. i was like hey she can still be a girl. all we know from her body shape is what her body is shaped like. maybe if we asked her she would say that she feels like she’s really a girl. and my kid was like BUT POKEMON CANT TALK 😭😭😭😭 so i was like ‘ok. pikachu. if you want to use he/him say ‘pika’. if you want to use she/her say ‘chu’. and if you want smth else say ‘pikachu’’. and my daughter had her say ‘chu’ and i was like see there you go! now. she doesn’t HAVE to change her tail shape. she can totally be a girl with a rectangle tail. but if she would feel more comfortable with heart shape bc she prefers it, or so that people won’t assume she’s a boy, i can make that happen. so pikachu what do you think? do you want tail surgery? and pikachu agreed enthusiastically! so. plushie gender-affirming surgery first thing tomorrow i guess!)
her results look great, congrats pikachu! 💖⚡️🏳️⚧️
US based but it’s similar reasons in other countries. and of course many companies have international locations. idk if that’s why it’s happening with sour patch kids but this is a thing
My nephew is very allergic to eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, and sesame. Last year my sister discovered all hot dogs and hamburger buns now contain sesame. Not "may contain", but listed in the ingredients. This year basically every brand of sliced bread also now contains sesame, making it very difficult to find bread items he can eat.
They're just adding it to their products, so they can just list it as an ingredient and not bother with worrying about cross contamination. And they aren't even bothering with telling anyone. Capitalism is going to kill us all.
"Which brings us back to Kellogg’s. Back in 2016, the company found a way around the added burden and expense of complying with the FSMA: they simply began adding trace amounts of peanut flour to their cracker products. Doing so allowed them to list peanuts as an ingredient of the product, freeing them from having to prevent cross-contact.
At the time, Kellogg’s notified Food Allergy Research and Education (FARE) about the impending change and left it to them to warn the allergic community. In this case, Pearson’s didn’t even bother as near as we can tell."
I wonder if that’s part of the reason behind my seeing an upswing in products adding corn starch or corn flour to things that didn’t have those before? <- rhetorical question, because I’m certain that’s what’s going on.
this scene is part of a much larger, longer fic I’m working on, in my trans!Shane universe, where Ilya finds time to visit during holiday break. This is technically my 2nd draft, so know that going in ;)
Shane slipped into the kitchen, head tucked and face turned. She busied herself with a mug and the pot of tea Yuna had left standing on the counter. Keeping her back to them, Ilya realized; purposefully, studiously hiding.
He hesitated for a long moment. Yuna and David seemed to notice as well, but weren’t leaping from their chairs. They had a quiet watchfulness about them, not the kind of people to ever be alarmist or prone to overreaction unless pushed. Once more, Ilya understood Shane’s tendencies a little more clearly. After a few more seconds, he chose his gut reaction over perception. He stood from his chair at the table and moved behind Shane, laying a hand in the center of her back as a fair warning.
He tucked his chin to her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Shane set her hands at the edge of the countertop. Her eyes stayed down. A watery sigh escaped her. “Not really.”
“What is it?” Ilya slid his hand over her shoulders as he turned his own body outwards. He leaned back against the counters, the edge making itself known just above the waistline of his trousers. He crossed his legs at the ankle, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited as Shane deliberated.
Eventually, her gaze slid up. Her makeup was done — simple but precise, making her mouth look softer, her freckles more apparent, her eyes moth like — but not enough to disguise the red at her lashes or the pink at the tip of her nose.
Upset, Ilya thought. Defeated.
Two words that should not be in the same geographic area as Shane Hollander.
A twinge of annoyance rose in the center of his chest, the newfound defensiveness he had for her making itself known. Whatever it was that had bothered her so badly, Ilya’s instincts wanted to beat it away with a stick. He, in turn, held that feeling in check; he’d only pounce at her mark.
“Nothing fits,” she mumbled, miserably. Her eyes slid down again. “The stuff I like I mean. The stuff that’s, y’know, nice enough.”
If her parents heard any of her words, they didn’t react. Ilya almost wanted them to, but he wouldn’t say anything. That would be a gross overstep, and he wasn’t so ingratiated to the Hollanders. Not yet. Not for a bit longer, he imagined.
“Nothing?” Ilya whispered back. “Are you sure?”
Shane nodded, sighed again. “Everything’s tight, or won’t button, or something else. I just—.” Her lips pursed and her nose curled as she fought off a bigger reaction. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I thought, maybe…”
She trailed off with a fresh sigh, shaking her head as she lifted her mug to her lips. Ilya sucked in a breath and nodded.
“It’s stupid.”
Ilya shrugged. “Not really.” Shane shot him a burning sort of look but there was no real heart in it. Ilya lifted his brows. “You say this like you are the only one ever.”
Shane rolled her eyes. “I know I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“I just don’t, you know. Like it.” Shane swallowed tightly. “I don’t like feeling. Like this. It’s so frustrating.”
Ilya hummed a single note. “Like what? Like you are thinking too much, too sensitive, too—.”
“Out of control,” Shane said. Her voice was stronger then, and it seemed to startle her. Her cheeks pinked and she dropped her voice. “Everything has been one way for so long. And now it’s out the window. And I hate it, Ilya, I fucking hate it.”
“Tell me.” He pressed. He uncrossed his legs to nudge her in the ankle. “Tell me, lyubimaya.”
Shane straightened up, staring at him with distaste all over her face. “My body has looked one way for twenty eight years, and now that’s shot to hell. I can’t even fucking skate anymore because apparently all that shiftiness throws your center of gravity. My face looks different, my day is different, everything is off kilter and I picked it. I chose it, and it sucks, and I wish it was over.”
Her breathing had turned ragged. Her voice was cracked down the center, slipping back and forth between forceful and quivery. The cadence had attracted her parents’ attention, finally, but Ilya didn’t take his eyes off of her. There wasn’t an easy answer, but he knew the right next step. He reached for her, placed a hand on her arm, and guided Shane into a hug. She went willingly, he noted; turned slack against him the moment her arms were around him, palms pressed to his back.
Ilya tucked his cheek against her head, smoothed a hand down the curve of her spine. “I am sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Shane said, muffled against his shirt collar. “Not your fault.”
“No, not like that.” Another drag of fingers down her back and she pressed in closer. Ilya closed his eyes. “I am sorry it is so much for you. I am sorry it makes your head do this to you. I am sorry I cannot fix it.”
“Ilya, you can’t—.”
“I know. I know.”
“I mean, only way out is through, but fuck.” Shane exhaled hard against his skin. “It sucks so fucking much.”
“I know.” Ilya pulled up then tipped his head to try catching her eye. “What would make it suck less? Right now?”
“Being fifteen pounds lighter.”
“Shane.”
“Ilya.” She huffed and straightened back up again. Her eyes didn’t meet his, but Ilya had long since learned that wasn’t anything to take offense by. It didn’t mean anything to her, so he learned not to let it mean anything to him. “Clothes.”
Ilya nodded. “You want help?”
“Yeah. I just.” Shane’s shoulders dropped. “Just, help me pick something that isn’t workout gear?”
Ilya indulged in a small smile. He lifted a hand and dragged his thumb over the smattering of freckles, made paler by winter. “We can do that.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Ilya cupped her cheek. “If you would like, you can open a present early? Maybe it would help?”
Shane looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“You want the whole answer or the hiding answer?”
A smile flitted across her features. “The whole answer.”
Ilya nodded. “Svetlana, my friend, she bought you more clothes.”
“Ah.”
“She thought you would like it because it is all like a sweater. Soft, stretchy—.”
“Knit?”
“Mhmm. Knit. It is a set, she said,” Ilya continued. “A skirt, a top, together. Wear both, wear one, does not matter.”
Shane pursed her lips. “Can I see it?”
“It is in bedroom, I can show you.”
“Please. If anything it’ll be a good distraction.” Shane took his hand, leading him out of the kitchen towards her room. The tea stayed behind, completely forgotten. Ilya didn’t say anything, only followed, keeping a half step behind her the whole way.
More here
He pressed his back to the wall, smile unfurling as he watched her preen in the mirror. “Nenaglyadnaya,” he breathed, more than a little awestruck.
Shane glanced back at him, a brow arched. “You keep saying that.”
“Only because it is true.”
“What does it mean?” Shane asked. “You can’t keep calling me something if I don’t know what it means.”
Ilya pushed off the wall and strode towards her. “It means beautiful. Most beautiful.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “You, Shane. Moya nenglyadnaya, my most beautiful.”
“Oh.” She tipped her head, pressing them temple to temple. “You can’t just say shit like that Ilya, it’s not fair.”
“No, it is very fair. I have to behave, be a good boy and keep hands off of you all night because we will be with your family, but it is so hard, Shane.” He caught her in another kiss. Warm, and deep, and promising. “You tease me like this all night, all I can do is tell you how much I love it. Fair trade, Hollander.”
“Fine,” she laughed under her breath. “Fair trade, Rozanov.”
She pushed him away, making enough room for her to turn around in front of the dresser, to face the mirror again. She sucked in a deep breath, considering herself. When Ilya crowded up behind her again, wrapped her arms around her stomach, she didn’t push away. She didn’t make a face. She leaned back against him, giving him some of her weight. He tucked his face to her neck and kissed her there, right over the steady beat of her pulse.
“Not bad, right?” Shane said to no one in particular. A faint smile curled her lips. “I didn’t think the color would look good on me.”
Ilya gave her a bland look. “Sveta has a good eye for these things. She said it would look good with your skin.”
“Yeah.”
“Mhmm, something about warm colors.” Ilya kissed her neck again. “You can ask her sometime.”
Shane smirked. “I just might.”
“So. You like it?”
Shane nodded. “Yeah. I like it.” She smoothed her hands over the front again, nodded again. “It’s, you know, a little more form-fitting than I’m used to, but it’s comfortable. I can move.”
Ilya grinned and squeezed. “Good.” She laughed as he rocked them. “Ready to go, zavarnoy krem?”
Shane squinted at him, exasperated . “What on earth, Roz?”
Ilya dropped a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Cream. Dessert cream.”
“Jesus Christ.” She rolled her eyes hard enough, Ilya could practically hear them. “You did not just call me a fucking cream puff.”
“It’s good.”
“It’s fuckin’ sappy.”
“No, it’s perfect. You are so sweet, and the color—.” Ilya squeezed and kissed her again, even though she whacked him on the arm. Not much of a fight, and Shane’s laughter said she really hadn’t been trying to. “Zhenya s’kremom, yes? Shane, with cream.”
She couldn’t help laughing at him. “I can’t believe I love you.”
“But you do,” Ilya sing-singed. “You love me so much.”
“I hate your guts.”
“You miss me so much.”
“I can’t believe we share basic genetic material.” She ruffled his hair, then patted his cheek and squeezed. “You’re the worst, Rozanov.”
“And you will kill me, Hollander,” he replied with a serious nod. “But it will be the best way to go.”
Quick small tag list of folks I know like my girl Shane (no pressure obvs but I figured it wouldn’t be totally reprehensible): @bezzia1403 @piratefalls @chunkyshane @lovemedifferentmp3 @eusuntgratie @saguaroblossom
I’ve also now learned how to use the small text feature and will be a menace because of it 😈
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