#summer groom suits

[dooleyrostron]

Elevate Your Summer Groom Style with the Finest Bespoke Shirts and Suits in the UK

Introduction: Planning a summer wedding requires careful consideration of various elements, and one crucial aspect is the attire. As the groom, you want to look impeccable while remaining comfortable throughout the festivities. Dooley & Rostron, renowned experts in bespoke attire, understand the significance of a well-fitted summer groom suit and exquisite bespoke shirts. With their expertise and commitment to quality, you can effortlessly achieve a sophisticated look that will make you shine on your special day.

Finding the Perfect Summer Wedding Suit: When it comes to summer weddings, it's essential to select a suit that not only complements your personal style but also keeps you cool and comfortable in warm weather. Dooley & Rostron offers an impressive range of summer wedding suits designed to meet these requirements. Their collection combines timeless elegance with lightweight fabrics, ensuring you feel at ease without compromising on style.

Stay Cool with Summer Groom Suits: Dooley & Rostron's summer groom suits are specifically tailored to beat the heat. Their selection features breathable fabrics like linen, seersucker, and lightweight wool blends. These materials allow air circulation and prevent you from overheating, ensuring you remain calm, collected, and fresh throughout the ceremony and reception.

Bespoke Shirts: The Epitome of Sophistication To complete your summer groom suit and shirt collection ensemble, Dooley & Rostron offer a range of the best bespoke shirts in uk that are a testament to exceptional craftsmanship. Their team of skilled artisans will meticulously craft a shirt tailored to your exact measurements, ensuring an impeccable fit that exudes sophistication and comfort. Whether you prefer classic white, subtle patterns, or vibrant colours, their extensive fabric selection allows you to personalise your bespoke shirt to match your unique style.

Unveiling the Best Bespoke Shirts: At Dooley & Rostron, they take pride in their commitment to delivering the best bespoke shirts in UK. With meticulous attention to detail and an eye for perfection, their experienced tailors will create a shirt that perfectly complements your physique and enhances your overall appearance. Each bespoke shirt is a masterpiece, reflecting the flawless fusion of quality fabrics, expert craftsmanship, and your individual preferences.

Bespoke Shirts: A Worthwhile Investment Investing in bespoke shirts is a decision that goes beyond mere fashion. Not only do they ensure comfortable and well-fitted attire for your summer wedding, but they also become a staple in your wardrobe for years to come. The durability and timeless style of bespoke shirts make them a wise choice, ultimately saving you money in the long run.

Conclusion: Your summer wedding is a momentous occasion that deserves the perfect blend of style, comfort, and individuality. Dooley & Rostron expertise in crafting exceptional summer wedding suits and the best bespoke shirts allows you to achieve just that. With their attention to detail, commitment to quality, and extensive selection, you can confidently embrace elegance and comfort on your special day. Don't settle for anything less than the best; choose Dooley & Rostron for an unforgettable experience and attire that truly reflects your unique style.

ORIGINAL SOURCE: https://shorturl.at/gptuS

[samkkshopping]

Unlock Regal Style: 5 Maharaja-Inspired Color Combos by Samyakk

Introduction:

Maharaja Fashion Inspiration

Maharaja fashion inspiration plays a significant role in contemporary men’s wedding outfits. Drawing from the opulence of royal attire, this style incorporates rich fabrics, intricate embroidery, and bold colors, reflecting a sense of grandeur and sophistication. Men’s festive wear inspired by Maharaja-inspired looks often features jewel tone suits and opulent men’s fashion, ideal for making a striking impression at any event.

Men’s Ethnic Style and Traditional Attire

The essence of men’s ethnic style lies in its ability to blend traditional elements with modern aesthetics. Men’s traditional attire, such as the Jodhpuri suit, offers a regal and refined look perfect for weddings and festive occasions. Men’s traditional fashion trends continue to evolve, embracing both the heritage of royal men’s attire and contemporary design innovations.

Elegant and Regal Men’s Outfits

For those seeking an elegant men’s outfit, the Jodhpuri suit stands out with its detailed craftsmanship and sophisticated appearance. Paired with accessories that complement its royal appeal, such as brooches and pocket squares, the Jodhpuri suit transforms into a centerpiece of a men’s regal wardrobe.

Let’s Dive into more ethnic outfit: Jodhpuri Suit for all your occasion

Jodhpuri suits are a cornerstone of Indian men’s fashion, especially for weddings and formal events. These distinguished outfits combine tradition with a touch of modern flair, making them a popular choice for those seeking a unique and sophisticated look.

Comfort Meets Style

Jodhpuris are crafted from breathable fabrics like cotton, silk, or linen, ensuring comfort even in warm weather. Unlike kurtas paired with jackets, Jodhpuri suits offer a cohesive and tailored look. The jackets, typically made from slightly heavier fabrics, provide a structured silhouette, while the trousers maintain a comfortable drape.

A Touch of Brilliance

Jodhpuri suits often feature embellishments like sequins or gemstones, adding a touch of Indian heritage to the outfit. Traditionally available in vibrant colors for festive occasions, Jodhpuris now come in a wider range, including classic blacks, whites, blues, and grays, making them suitable for various events.

The Rise of the Jodhpuri

These designer suits for men gained popularity for their resemblance to formal business attire. While not strictly traditional Indian clothing, Jodhpuri suits became a prominent symbol during Prime Minister Nehru’s era. His frequent wearing of Jodhpuri suits cemented their place in Indian men’s fashion, and they eventually became a part of Indian men’s wedding outfits.

Versatility for Every Man

Jodhpuri suits cater to diverse styles. Their formal elegance makes them appropriate for weddings and work functions, while their comfortable design allows for all-day wear. Whether you seek a bold statement piece or a timeless classic, a Jodhpuri suit offers a perfect blend of tradition, comfort, and modern style.

Festive and Formal Men’s Fashion

Men’s luxury clothing and festive men’s fashion are characterized by the use of rich fabric men’s clothing and ornate detailing. Whether attending a wedding, festival, or formal event, men can choose from a variety of styles that showcase their personality and taste. Brands like Samyakk offer an extensive range of men’s formal wear, ensuring that every man finds the perfect ensemble for any occasion.

Men Suit: A classic choice of suit everybody likes Men Suits have always been a symbol of elegance and sophistication. Whether it’s a business meeting, a formal event, or a special occasion like a wedding, the right suit for men can make a world of difference. In this blog, we will explore a variety of styles, including blazers for men, wedding suits for men, and the traditional yet trendy Jodhpuri Suit.

Classic Suit: Timeless Elegance

A Classic Suit is a staple in every man’s wardrobe. It exudes a timeless appeal that works for both professional and social settings. The clean lines and tailored fit make it a versatile choice for any occasion. When you think of a classic suit, envision a well-fitted jacket paired with perfectly tailored trousers, often in neutral colors like navy, grey, or black.

Tuxedo Suit: The Ultimate in Formal Wear

For the most formal of occasions, the Tuxedo Suit is unmatched. Known for its satin lapels and often accompanied by a bow tie, the tuxedo is the epitome of elegance. Whether you’re attending a black-tie event or your own wedding, a tuxedo ensures you stand out with its sophisticated design.

Wedding Suits: Making Your Day Special

When it comes to your big day, wedding suits for men play a crucial role. From traditional wedding suits to modern designs, the choices are endless. One popular choice is the black Jodhpuri Suit, which combines the richness of Indian heritage with contemporary style. This outfit is perfect for grooms who want to add a touch of royalty to their wedding attire.

Jodhpuri Suit: Royalty Redefined

The Jodhpuri Suit is a regal option that has gained immense popularity in recent years. Known for its high-neck, bandhgala design, this suit is perfect for weddings and other formal events. The Jodhpuri Suit Men prefer today often features intricate embroidery and rich fabrics, making it a standout choice.

Designer Suits for Men: Contemporary Flair

For those who love to stay ahead of fashion trends, designer suits for men are a must-have. These suits often feature unique cuts, bold colors, and innovative fabrics. Whether you’re looking through a mens suit designs catalogue or seeking the latest mens suit designs for a wedding, designer suits offer a variety of options that cater to different tastes and preferences.

Blazers for Men: Versatile and Stylish

Blazers for men are a versatile addition to any wardrobe. They can be dressed up or down, making them suitable for both casual and formal occasions. Pair a classic blazer with jeans for a smart-casual look or with dress trousers for a more polished appearance.

Wedding Outfit For Men: Beyond the Suit

When considering a wedding outfit for men, think beyond the traditional suit. Options like the Bandhgala offer a unique blend of modern style and traditional elegance. This high-collared jacket can be paired with trousers or dhoti pants, providing a distinctive look that sets you apart on your special day.

Jewel Tones

Jewel tone suits in colors like sapphire blue, ruby red, and emerald green paired with neutral tones like black, white, or beige create a luxurious and sophisticated look. These colors are perfect for men’s wedding outfits and festive men’s fashion.

Major Color Combos to focus: Men Wedding & Party Wear Outfit

When it comes to men’s wedding outfits and party wear, choosing the right color combination can make a significant impact. Here are some standout color combos that can elevate your look for these special occasions.

Classic Black and White

A timeless combination, black and white is perfect for both weddings and formal parties. Whether it’s a tuxedo suit or a classic suit, this duo exudes sophistication and elegance.

Navy Blue and Gold

Navy blue and gold is a luxurious combo that works well for wedding suits for men. The richness of navy paired with the opulence of gold detailing creates a regal look, ideal for evening weddings and receptions.

Burgundy and Black

Burgundy and black is a bold and sophisticated choice for men’s wedding suits. This combination is perfect for fall and winter weddings, offering a deep, rich aesthetic that stands out.

Royal Blue and White

For a fresh and vibrant look, royal blue and white is an excellent choice. This combination is particularly popular for men’s festive wear and men’s ethnic style, including Jodhpuri suits and bandhgala jackets.

Charcoal Grey and Silver

Charcoal grey and silver is a modern and sleek option for both weddings and parties. This combo works well for men’s formal wear, providing a contemporary yet classic look.

Emerald Green and Gold

Emerald green and gold is a striking combination that embodies luxury and elegance. This pairing is ideal for wedding outfits for men looking to make a bold statement.

Maroon and Cream

Maroon and cream is a rich and traditional combination perfect for Indian men’s fashion. This duo is particularly popular in Jodhpuri suits and bandhgala outfits, offering a royal and festive look.

Black and Maroon

Black and maroon create a powerful and striking look for evening events. This combination is particularly suited for opulent men’s fashion and men’s luxury clothing, ensuring you stand out in any gathering.

White and Pastel

White and pastel combinations, such as white with pastel pink, blue, or mint, are perfect for daytime weddings and summer parties. These colors offer a fresh and elegant look, ideal for men’s traditional attire and men’s regal wardrobe.

The Samyakk Experience

Shopping for the perfect suit can be overwhelming, but with brands like Samyakk, the process becomes seamless. Known for their exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail, Samyakk offers a wide range of suits, from the classic and timeless to the modern and trendy. Whether you’re looking for a wedding suit designer or exploring the suit design man catalogs, Samyakk has something to cater to every need.

Conclusion

The world of men’s suits is vast and varied, offering something for every taste and occasion. From the timeless classic suit to the regal Jodhpuri Suit, and the sophisticated Tuxedo Suit, each style brings its own unique charm. So, whether you’re preparing for a wedding, a formal event, or just looking to upgrade your wardrobe, there’s a perfect men suit out there waiting for you.

[the-hub-vadodara]

Indian Summer ft. The Hub presents a selection of Calvin Klein T-shirts. From the iconic Monogram Logo Crewneck, crafted from premium cotton, to the Relaxed Washed Cotton T-shirt, woven with 80% regenerative fibers, curate your summer wardrobe with these exclusive apparel. Each one offers a timeless statement and embodies conscious luxury.

[speaknow-sw]

𝑺𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒌

Summary : When your car broke down in the middle of 1950s Texas, you welcome with pleasure the help of a handsome cowboy.

Word count : 2.4k

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, 1950s AU, Cowboy! Anakin, Ditzy!, Wealthy! Reader, surnames (doll, peach, dollie,), kissing, vaginal fingering, brief pussy-eating, PiV, breeding kink, wife kink, mentions of grooming, pregnancy kink ?

AN : Okay so I got that AU in my head since FOREVER. That damn picture of Hayden with the Stetson got me ruining so many panties. Here’s a tribute to all the Cowboy delulu wifeys. Hope you’ll enjoy !!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the vast Texas plains. The air was thick with the scent of wild grass and the distant hum of cicadas. You, a city girl from New York, had never seen anything like it. The endless stretch of land, so different from the concrete jungle you were used to, was both beautiful and intimidating.

You had been on your way to visit a distant relative’s ranch, a place you’d never been before, when your car—an elegant, shiny Cadillac that was far too fancy for these dusty roads—had sputtered and died in the middle of nowhere. Now, here you were, miles from the nearest town, with no idea what to do.

Your pretty summer dress, all ruffles and soft pastels, was completely out of place here, with the silk scarf wrapped around your head to protect your hair from the burning sun. Your designer heels were sinking into the dirt with every step you took around the car, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. You were lost, both literally and figuratively, your usual confidence shaken by the vastness of this wild, untamed place.

As you leaned against the car, biting your lip in frustration, the sound of hooves reached your ears. You looked up, shielding your eyes from the sun, and saw a figure on horseback approaching from the distance.

As the rider drew closer, you could make out more details—tall, broad-shouldered, with a wide-brimmed Stetson casting a shadow over his face. His horse was a magnificent creature, all muscle and grace, moving with the kind of power that took your breath away.

When he finally stopped a few feet away from you, you got your first real look at him. The man was strikingly handsome, with sandy blonde hair that curled under his hat and deep blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was dressed in a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms, and worn jeans that clung to his legs in a way that made your heart race.

“Well, now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all the way out here ?” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, with just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You blinked up at him, momentarily lost for words. He was so different from the men you were used to—polished, city types in sharp suits and shiny shoes. This man was raw and rugged, with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him.

“My car…” you started, feeling a little foolish under his steady gaze. “It just… stopped. I don’t know what to do.”

He dismounted with an easy grace, the muscles in his arms flexing as he swung down from the saddle. As he approached, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, mixing with the warmth of the sun. He looked over the car, his expression thoughtful, before turning back to you.

“Well, I ain’t no mechanic, but I can take a look, dollie,” he offered, his tone kind but with an undercurrent of amusement, as if he found your predicament both endearing and a little amusing.

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping aside to let him take a look under the hood. As he worked, you couldn’t help but watch him, the way his fingers deftly moved over the engine, the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his back as he leaned over.

After a few minutes, he straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. “Looks like you’ve got a busted radiator, peach. You won’t be goin’ anywhere until it’s fixed.”

Your heart sank at his words. “Oh no, what am I going to do ?”

He glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to turn shades of pink and orange as the sun dipped lower. “It’s gettin’ late. Best thing would be to come back to my place. It ain’t too far, and you can stay the night. I’ll take a look at your car in the morning, doll, see what can be done.”

You hesitated for a moment, the idea of staying with a stranger making you nervous, but there was something about him—something solid and trustworthy—that made you nod in agreement. “Alright, thank you, cowboy. I really appreciate it.���

He gave you a nod and helped you up onto his horse, his hands firm and steady as they gripped your waist. You settled into the saddle, feeling a bit awkward, but his presence behind you was reassuring.

As you rode through the fields, the wind gently tugging at your hair, you couldn’t help but lean back against him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. His arm was wrapped around you, holding the reins, and you could feel the strength in him, the quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from every part of him. 

Suddenly your silk scarf escaped from your head and you gasped. A strong hand latched backwards and caught the fabric. The cowboy winked at you and pocketed your scarf not without smelling it beforehand, leaving you speechless.

When you finally arrived at his ranch, the sky was a deep indigo, the stars just beginning to twinkle above. The house was a charming, rustic place, with a wide porch and warm, inviting lights glowing from the windows.

He helped you down from the horse, his hands lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary, sending a thrill through you. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cozy warmth of the living room, the scent of wood and leather filling the air.

“You can make yourself at home,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “I’ll get you somethin’ to drink.”

You nodded, wandering over to the fireplace, your fingers lightly brushing over the mantel as you took in the room. When he returned, he handed you a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight.

As you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol spread through you, mixing with the heat that had been steadily building inside you since the moment he’d appeared on that dusty road. You coughed your lungs out at the burn.

“I never did catch your name,” you said, looking up at him over the rim of your glass.

“Name’s Anakin,” he replied, his eyes locked onto yours. “Anakin Skywalker.”

You smiled, the name fitting him perfectly. “Thank you again, Anakin. For helping me.”

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s my pleasure, darlin’. Can’t leave a lady in distress.”

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with something unspoken. You could feel the tension building, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your breath catch.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

You could only nod, your voice failing you as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

And then he was kissing you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—raw, passionate, and filled with a desire that made your head spin.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the hard lines of his body against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt, igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You gasped as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your knees weak, his stubble scratching deliciously against your throat. His hands were everywhere, sliding down your back, over your hips, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that matched your own.

“Anakin…” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning you there with a strength that made your pulse race.

“Shh,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl. “I’ve gotcha’, darlin’. Jus’ let me take care of ya’.”

And take care of you he did. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, where he laid you down on the soft, inviting bed. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting everything in a warm, golden light.

He stood above you for a moment, his eyes dark and intense as he took in the sight of you, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. And then he was on you, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body, igniting a fire in you that burned hotter with every touch, every kiss.

Anakin's kisses trailed down your neck, his hands sliding over your dress, finding the zipper at the back. With a smooth motion, he pulled it down, the fabric slipping off your shoulders, exposing the delicate lace of your lingerie. His breath hitched at the sight, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Pretty, lil’ angel," he whispered, his voice husky as his fingers traced the outline of your bra, making your skin tingle. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing hot kisses along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, until you were arching into him, desperate for more.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons in your eagerness to feel his skin against yours. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, before he helped you, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.

The sight of him, all hard muscles and golden skin, took your breath away. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and you couldn’t resist running your hands over his torso, feeling the heat and power of him beneath your fingertips.

He groaned at your touch, his hands slipping under your bra, pushing it up to free your breasts. His mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you that had you gasping his name.

His hands were everywhere, sliding down your sides, over your hips, pushing your dress the rest of the way off until you were lying there in nothing but your panties. He paused for a moment, just looking at you, his eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that made your skin flush with heat.

Then he was kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, his hands sliding down to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the evidence of his desire making you ache with need.

"Anakin," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as he kissed his way down your body, his hands hooking into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion that left you trembling with anticipation.

He kissed the inside of your thighs, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, making you shiver. And then his mouth was on you, his tongue stroking over your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that made you cry out, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working together to drive you higher and higher, until you were teetering on the edge, your body strung tight with need. And then he was inside you, filling you completely, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you moaning his name, your nails digging into his back. « Gonna make you a mommy, » he grunted, biting your throat. His hands gripped your waist tightly probably letting bruises. He swallowed the sweet skin of your cleavage in his mouth, suckling hickeys and pressing hot, tongue kisses on your chair. « My sweet little wife, gonna drag you on the aisle, » he pounded harder in you, his large cock reducing you at a doll-like state, your cock drunk face driving his crazy. « You’ll gimme babies, huh ? As much babies as I want. Gonna keep you round and full of me. Mine. My wife, the mother of my children. » his thrusts got sloppy and his face contorted in a mask of need.

The pleasure built and built, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, your body clinging to his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You screamed your release, arching your back and curling your toes.

Anakin followed you over the edge, his own release spilling deep into you as he groaned your name, his body tensing above you before he collapsed, pulling you into his arms as you both lay there, breathing hard, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. 

The night was a blur of passion and desire, a heady mix of pleasure and sensation that left you breathless and yearning for more. Anakin moved with a confidence that only came from someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and he made sure you knew it too. He took his time with you, savoring every moment, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips. He pushed you to the edge again and again, his touch driving you wild, until you finally tumbled over, your body arching into his as you were consumed by the pleasure that only he could give you. You couldn’t count how much time he made you cum and came himself but you sure knew your belly wasn’t this bloated when you started.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the sheets as you settled into the warmth of each other’s embrace. Then he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he murmured, "I knew you were somethin’ special, doll."

You smiled, a lazy, satisfied smile as you snuggled closer to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I guess I’ll have to find more reasons to get stranded in Texas," you teased, your voice soft and content, the Stetson since forgotten on the floor.

The End…

[goldsbitch]

My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

//

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arms around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She got real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he gulped, nearly having a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

//

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

//

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Manor

modern!aegon x neice!reader

A/N: this is based off a short little blurb i did the other day. just thought i'd make it into smth more

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, DUBCON!, incest, exhibitionism perhaps, pervy aegon

WORD COUNT: 1,468 words

There’s nothing you hate more than family gatherings. It’s a pity really because you know you would enjoy them if it wasn’t for one thing… your uncle. Aegon torments you endlessly. It started small when you were younger, tugging on your braids like a schoolboy. Now, it’s the way his touches linger. He gets more and more reckless with each graze… each grope. Your brothers could see, his mother could see if only they looked close enough.

It’s your grandfather’s birthday today, a summertime celebration that you resent because it means a whole weekend spent at the manor and Aegon loves nothing more than a tantalizing, off-limits girl in a sundress.

“You wouldn’t deny your favourite uncle a hug, would you?” He says with a smirk as you walk up the steps. Your step-grandmother is oblivious as she beckons you over.

“Family greets each other with hugs!” She encourages, pulling you into her soft embrace before pushing you into his.

Filthy arms snake around your waist and you hate how your body leans into his. You hate how good it feels when his hand slips up your dress to give your ass a sneaky squeeze, fingertips just barely grazing your clothed pussy. You try not to gasp as you push him away, glaring at him for his perversion.

“So good to see you, little niece.” He gives you a wolfish grin before letting you walk away, if only so he can watch you go.

~~~

You get into your bikini after unpacking, wanting to soak in that hot summer sun before it sets. You venture outside to the pool just to see that you’re the only one there as Daeron and Helaena are down by the beach and your dumbass brothers are probably napping after the long car ride. As for Aemond, who knows what he’s up to. You walk over to a sunchair and lay your towel on it as he sneaks up behind you. You feel the ties of your bikini top undo with one swift motion.

You whip around. “Aegon, you bastard!” You grab the sides of your top to keep yourself covered but that only gives him the chance to tug down your bottoms.

“Ohh someone’s keeping herself well groomed for me.” He muses as you pull them back up and shove him away.

“Keep your hands away from me, perv!”

“If you want my hands off then why did you shave your pussy bare for me?” He smirks, stalking closer to you as you back away.

“Who said it’s for you?” You snark back.

That comment pisses him off a bit and he grabs your arm to pull you back to him. “Yeah? Like you’re fucking someone.” He pushes his hand down the front of your bottoms. “Not when you’re this wet for me.”

“I hate you.” You squirm out of his hold but he still sends you off with a harsh smack on the ass as you storm away.

“Sure you do, sweetheart!”

You make your way to your room, locking your door and changing out of your bathing suit and into a short sundress so you aren’t lounging in swimwear.

Gods, maybe he’s right about you doing things for him. If you were so disgusted by his advances then you would probably want to drown yourself in clothing, rather than dress yourself in such a tiny garment. And more than anything, you wait around for him, eventually falling into a mid-day slumber.

You’re awoken by the feeling of gentle fingertips gliding up and down your navel before fluttering across your collarbones. When your eyes finally open, taking their time because of how groggy you feel, you’re greeted by the sight of him with a hand down his boxers as he strokes his cock, looking as divine as a fucking god. This is when you notice that the bust of your milkmaid dress has been untied to reveal your pert breasts. You say nothing as you flinch away like a spooked mare, only glaring at Aegon with ire in your eyes.

“You were so peaceful when you were sleeping and now you had to go ahead and ruin it.” He gazes at you with such lustful hunger.

“You like to prey on sleeping girls?”

“I like to prey on you.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Nobody’s home… and I like it when you put up a little fight.”

He gives you a little smirk before lunging at you. You slip off the bed but you’re not on the side of the room with the door so there’s nowhere to run. He backs you into a corner but just watches for a moment, wanting to make you antsy. His lack of action makes you take your chance and you try to bolt past him but he just grabs you around the waist. You swing around him slightly but his hold is firm. Both of his hands snake around your struggling body from behind, his left holding your upper torso all the way up to cup your right breast and his right sliding up your skirt.

“You’re fucking sick. I’m your niece.” You spit out at him.

“You’re just as sick as I am.”

You struggle in his grasp but that doesn’t stop him from getting a firm hold on your panties. He tugs on them and you whimper at the slight pain-pleasure as he uses the fabric to rub against your clit.

“Aegon, stop.” You whine breathlessly as he manoeuvres the garment around to start pleasuring you.

“Give in.” He kisses at your neck. “I know you want to. You’re not saving face for anyone but yourself.” He whispers into your ear. 

“Fuck you.” You murmur but it just feels so good.

“You will, whether you’d like to or not. Just give in.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong but you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder giving him better access to your neck.

“Good girl.”

He starts nipping and sucking at your soft skin even harder now as he unzips your dress. You’re only in your panties now as he shoves you back onto your bed, his lips immediately moving to kiss your supple breasts.

“Such nice tits, baby. Maybe i’ll have a turn fucking them after I split open that tight cunt.” He chuckles as your slight shudder and then rips off your panties so he can bury his face in your pussy.

You can hardly think of how to react as he devours you with such fervour. Aegon has been waiting forever for this moment; he couldn’t keep his eyes off you since you flowered and he eagerly wants to taste you. He wants you to fall apart on his tongue, and then his cock.

And so you do. Your high washes over you like you’ve never felt before. That sick feeling that has created a pit in your stomach only makes it hit even harder.

“Mmm, Aegon.” You whine, fingers tangled in his ivory locks. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

He’s over you, pumping his length already before you’ve even had a chance to recover.

“Use a condom.” You pout, legs spread wide for him.

“Little brats don’t tell their uncles what to do.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t even move to stop him before he’s speared himself inside of you. His mouth is pressed to yours and he swallows all your protests before they can leave your lips. He kisses you with the same fervour that he ate you with as he fucks into you roughly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says after breaking the kiss, wanted a good look at your face as he ruins you.

“It’s too much.” You complain.

“Don’t be such a whiner.” He rolls his eyes and lifts your legs to push you into a mating press. If it was too much before, then it’s surely too much now as he somehow hits even deeper.

“Ah ah…” You let out little whimpers at the feeling of being filled so completely.

“God’s, never felt a pussy this tight. Knew you were saving yourself for me, baby.” He says cockily.

You can’t even form a retort, not with how cock-drunk you are from him pistioning his dick in and out of you. All you can think of is how close you are.

“I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t realize you were such a little slut after only one little taste.”

He talks a lot of talk but once he feels your walls clenching around him, he’s done for. He only manages to get a few more hard thrusts in, fucking you through your high, before he finishes inside you.

Once you come down from your peak, you realize what he’s done.

“Seven Hells, Aegon. Did you just cum inside me?”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[neptunes-sol-angel]

*pchit pchit* Describing your spirituality as a perfume and the essence behind it. Feel free to look up metaphysical meaning behind each note to see additional messages that may resonate with you.

Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One

Top Notes:

Tangerine, Magnolia, Peppermint, Fennel

Middle Notes:

Lemon, Rosemary, Arborvitae

Bottom Notes:

Oregano, Bergamot, Sweet Marjoram

Your perfume embodies a warm summer day at a villa in Italy. You’ll feel right at home when your olfactory nerves take in every single accord. Your fragrance is soft, smooth, bubbly, with a hint of what a clean roaring 20s hotel suite would be like with incense smoking in the background. Boujee and boozy. Your spirituality is based on finding awakenings in nothingness. Losses could be something that you experience a lot. Home could be something that is not really guaranteed for you. It could be by choice meaning you find purpose in nomadic living or you’re constantly moving around against your will because of a destructive crisis. This could have made it hard for you to attach or give sentimental value to holidays, milestones, and relationships that are meant to be positive and celebratory. You don’t have to dress in garments or be deep into religion or philosophical teachings and rituals. You’re spiritual in a way that resonates with taoism. No matter how many endings that occur in your life, you are not meant to stay there. Even if you lose your will to keep going, you embody the concurrent flow of circulation. Finding life after death and being open to miracles when you’re at rock bottom. I feel like people could see you as “walking karma”. I feel like there are a lot of people in the pile who do not believe in the concept of karma because you believe in handling retribution yourself. You could be into defense and malefic magic, but you could also have a lot of strength and endurance to push for things to happen in your life. When it comes to pointing out someone’s spiritual gifts, it’s usually the magic that happens naturally. So while people may think you are “walking karma” or have this fear that you’re getting revenge on them, I’m getting that your gifts are more like a blockbuster and a road opener spell.

Pile Two

Top Notes:

Pink Pepper, Siberian Fir, Lotus Flower

Middle Notes:

Black Spruce, Morello Cherry, Ginger

Bottom Notes:

Honeysuckle, Frankincense, Neroli, Nubian Musk

Your perfume is seductive, mysterious, feminine, and mature yet playful. The scent is dark, floral, and energizing with the way it will last all over your body the entire day, even if you shower. Your spirituality thrives in beauty, love, magnetism, and divine enlightenment. You could resonate with the siren archetype with how entrancing you are with your desires and self worship. I keep seeing the majestic creature obsessively grooming theirself in a mirror, so people could think that you’re vain or self-absorbed. But what they don’t understand is that spiritually, you embody what it means to treat your body like a temple, and how your inner world can shift your outer world. You’re extremely powerful with glamour magic, affirmations, and creating subliminals. Like a siren’s voice, you’re just commanding with the words that you speak which can do wonders for you but can also make you have to be very careful with the things that you say and your attention on certain things that may look or seem like a good idea but they really aren’t. I get that in order to master your spirituality, you must place boundaries with what you’re drawn to utilizing moderation and also being specific with what you want. In this collective, I feel that there are a lot of young souls who are eager to learn and experience. Many of you are actually on track to reaching this level of mastery. This pile reminds me of the movie “The Craft” and the phrase “curiosity that killed the cat”. You guys could indulge in divination, spells, or non-occultic shortcuts in life that may have led to getting you in unnecessary trouble or problems that ended up combusting. The more that you experience what you think you may want, the closer that you reach to finding peace with something that may look the complete opposite.

Pile Three

Top Notes:

Citronella, Lavender, Vasaka, Spearmint

Middle Notes:

Helichrysum, Frankincense, Tonka Bean, Celery Seed

Bottom Notes:

Sweet Pea, Matcha, Grapefruit, Petitgrain

Your perfume has a different take on what gourmand can be. It’s probably the most natural sugary scent that you’ll ever find. When the scent hits your nose, it’ll feel like you’re waking up one sunny morning to a matcha lemonade and a lavender grapefruit puff pastry. Discovering your spirituality could or still be very confusing for you. The collective’s energy in this pile feels lost, opaque, and saturn-like because I think that the clarity that’s being sought after most likely will not be received until your 40s or 50s. I’m seeing a lot of switching religions, jumping to the next path to consciousness by dabbling into concepts that you may not fully understand, or being led astray by new-age theories. I’m also seeing a lot of spiraling when things do not work out that may cause you to blame these practices when transitioning onto the next thing. I’m getting that people in the pile could have faced a lot of judgement in these spaces at an early age. Never really feeling like you belong or that you’re welcomed by others which could play a part in why spirituality could be so confusing for you and it not being something that you can trust. You may have even decided to become atheist or agnostic and that is okay. The delivery may not have been right in feeling let down in your spirituality, but the truth is, it is the human thing to crash out when you show your devotion, you do the work consistently, and had the bravery to be positive about it and then next thing you know, things are tumbling down and you don’t know what the hell is going on or if you did something wrong. For some of you, the problem lies in trying to find acceptance from others in these spaces. You’re making material things such as people or social constructs and standards for your god. You find a god in something that’s way bigger and personal than what the next person’s input is. Whether it’s digging deep into your roots to resume your ancestor’s indigenous practices, carving out your own space in christianity to fortify your faith in peace, or even finding the god within yourself, your spirituality will become a lot more clearer to you when you make it less about others and have more acceptance and validation for yourself.

Pile Four

Top Notes:

Ylang Ylang, Rain accord, Ginseng

Middle Notes:

Jasmine, Coriander, Vetiver

Bottom Notes:

Tonga Vanilla Bean, Passionflower, Spikenard

Your perfume could be well-rounded, where you can vividly smell every note all throughout the sillage of when you first sprayed it. The scent has a bold blend of aromas that are both masculine and feminine. It’s earthy, sweet, strong, the perfect scent to acquire if you want to make an opulent first impression. Like this perfume, your spirituality represents the power and respect behind energy exchange. You see life in all things, and believe that everything is energy much like how science demonstrates that everything is derived out of atoms and chemicals. You resonate with herbology, following the moon and stars, and letting the universe speak to you through plants, animals, and the weather. You could be into tea leaf readings, palmistry, or water and cloud scrying. You believe in superstitions that were taught to you by your elders or the people of your culture(s). You could be against anything along with seeing things as something to be taken or owned. Money comes to you easily and it doesn’t have to be in surplus. I just see you being taken care of because of the spirits that you communicate with and look after, even if you’re not directly into mediumship, it seems like you unconsciously connect with your ancestors and other forms of spirits, especially if you have this habit of talking to yourself. I don’t want to scare you, but whoever you are talking to, they are definitely listening to you and responding back to you in many different ways lol. Your spirituality is also brought to life when musical instruments are being played, when you’re cooking for others, and when you’re helping others who have less mobility.

[elliespuns]

Joel Miller's House

and the little details that melt my heart (make me squirm)

I truly adore Joel's cozy porch. It has the perfect ambiance for him to relax and spend quality time with Sarah on warm summer days or quiet evenings. The presence of the water kettle on the table suggests that his porch is a frequent gathering place. Noticing the pumpkins already arranged, despite the fact that the outbreak occurred on September 26th, I feel like someone might have been a bit too eager for Halloween festivities.

Who would have guessed that Joel has always been ready to rock formal Oxford shoes? Young man Joel in a dark suit, tie, and Oxfords? Fuck, I need to breathe.

I thought I was going to shriek in surprise when my eyes landed on the weathered cowboy hat perched on the wall hook. It was such a striking (sexy) contrast to the construction helmet and simple baseball cap. The mere thought of Joel donning a casual baseball hat makes me go bananas. What do they say again? "Save a horse..."

This photograph of Joel and Sarah sitting upon the table, beside Joel's spot on the couch, has forever graced my heart. This tender image speaks volumes of the pure, affectionate bond they shared. Plus, the humble bowl of peanuts resting nearby suggests that Joel probably liked these simple snacks during movie nights together.

When I realize that Joel's true intentions were to launch his own business, reading up on critical matters like "buying a contract" and "everything you need to know to create a startup", it makes me want to cry. The poor man had been working tirelessly, pouring his heart and soul into every endeavor, driven by a burning desire to one day give Sarah the life she deserved. He was doing everything within his power, leaving no stone unturned, but fate had other plans.

The precious photo of baby Joel and his father sharing a fishing trip together unleashes a flood of emotions for me every time. The faded snapshot, forever frozen in time, clearly held a special place in our man's heart, since he kept it enshrined in a frame, with a candle next to it—a tender tribute to the loving dad he lost.

The man was utterly engrossed in the plans for his new project that he was planning in silence. Now let's talk about the old framed photo on his bedside table showing his parents dancing together. It just makes my day. I'm not even going to comment on the napkins sitting there so innocently.

This framed wedding photo of a young couple sitting on the bookshelf in Joel's study has been living in my mind rent free. While the groom looks nothing like Joel, I am certain that this couple is neither his parents (Joel has other photos of them in the house) nor his brother. The question is; who are these people? What connection could they possibly have to Joel? It seems too intimate, too personal, to have a picture of any random couple in such a private sanctum as his study. Could it be that Joel bleached his hair in his youth? After all, that was a common trend in the 90s. I'm scared to even speak this aloud, folks, but what if there's a possibility this couple could actually be a younger Joel and his wife? But then again, Sarah is blond, and this woman is not! (give me reasons to think I'm mistaken in the comments because I'm going crazy over here).

Joel's ardent love for music was evident throughout his home, with a sprawling collection of CDs adorning every room. However, it was the prominent display of CDs by Axel Diggs that stood out above the rest. Probably Joel's favorite musician.

The sunglasses lying on the table by the front door give me butterflies. Joel in sunglasses? It's a crime nobody has ever given us a single photo of Joel Miller in sunglasses. Oh, and the lottery tickets scattered around? Apparently, there's a gambler lurking within the man I thought I knew so well.

As an added treat, I mustn't leave out these two absolutely precious photos that appear to show Joel's parents back in their youth. What a touching gesture by this man to have kept these on proud display all these years. My heart just swells with affection for him seeing this.

[applesaucesims]

Niall McGregor Lookbook

Partially ending my hiatus with some more lookbooks, starting with Niall! Niall usually dresses in cool tones, matching his eyes, with reddish browns as a secondary colour, matching his hair. Other than the fact that those colours suit him, they also reflect his personality. If you compare it to his younger self, he started dressing in cooler tones as he grew older and became even more closed off than he already was, resulting in him getting a bit colder personality-wise as well. The warm tones come back in during scenes that have him act "warmer" as well, which is his sleep and summer wear. I'm not going to change the outfits anymore, but it was during summer that he and Emma got together. As a side note, I know the first party outfit is definitely the least historically accurate here, but it was an old outfit I made for him, and I sort of got attached. I like to think of it as a special designer tuxedo jacket.

CC links + example posts under the cut.

Everything not linked is base game.

Used in all: defaults / styled hair (felix) / messy hair / lashes / body blush / eyebrows (elle) / teeth (#6 or #7) / body hair / ring

Everyman: top / bottom / shoes

Daily Struggle: top / bottom / shoes (get together)

Supportive Husband: top / bottom / shoes (get together)

No More Secrets: top / bottom / shoes (get famous)

Date Night: suit / hat

Happy Groom: suit / hat / flower (mws) / shoes (vintage glamour)

Host with the Most: top / bottom / hat / shoes (get together)

Party Pains: suit / hat / shoes (get together)

Wedding Night: shirt [link gone - reupload] / undershirt [deleted - reupload] / bottom / shoes (vintage glamour)

Bed Time: pyjamas / slippers

Sweet Mornings: robe / slippers

Underwear: top [deleted - reupload] / bottom

Swimming in Joy: bottom

On a Run: top / bottom / shoes (get together)

Shopping Trip: top / bottom / hat / shoes

Working Actor: top / bottom / shoes

Drunk in Love: outfit / hat [deleted - reupload] / shoes

Winter Days: outfit / hat / shoes

Frosty Nights: outfit / hat / shoes

Cold Gentleman: top / bottom / hat / shoes

Winterfest Preparations: top / bottom

Family Flowerfest: robe / hat / shoes (get together)

Room Renovations: top / bottom / shoes (get together) / dirt overlay

Disney Prince: top / bottom / shoes (spooky stuff) / cape*

Dreamy Soldier: costume

Hopeless Roman: costume (spooky stuff) / eyeliner / lipstick / blush [deleted - reupload]

*tsr warning

[jjameslily]

Lady Fate

For @jilytoberfest Day 2 Prompt: A: “If anyone does X I’m going to love them forever.” B: Does X. | A03

Lily was sitting in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, absentmindedly swirling the spoon in her tea. It was one of those rare quiet Saturday mornings—perfect for some much-needed study time before her exam. 

That is, until she heard the unmistakable clamor of footsteps descending from the boys’ dormitory. 

“Lily Evans!” he announced grandly, “Just the redhead I was looking for!”

Skipping the last step of the staircase, Sirius Black landed with a flourish and both arms outstretched toward her. He strode over from across the room and threw an arm around her shoulders, planting himself on the arm of the sofa chair she occupied.

Lily sighed, giving him a long-suffering sideways glance. “What is it, Black?”

“Just here to do my duty and support my best mate’s blossoming romance,” he said, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

Lily’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You and I are not best mates,” she said as she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

Sirius stilled, his eyes wide with shock. “What? We had dinner together just yesterday!”

“You mean when I was discussing patrols with Remus and you ran up to us, shaking the rain off your robes like a wet-dog?”

“Exactly! How could you forget? We had a blast.” 

“We are not friends,” she repeated. 

“Oh, come on,” he said, shaking her playfully. “Any future girlfriend of my boyfriend’s is my…No, wait, my mate’s girlfriend is my girlfriend… That’s not right either.” He scratched his chin, as if deep in thought.

Lily felt the beginnings of a headache emerge.

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Blossoming romance? What are you on about?” His nonsensical train of thought finally having caught up up to her.

He shrugged innocently. “Call it whatever you like, Lils—if I may call you that—”

“—no you may not,” she responded.

He ignored her, “—but I’m committed to this love story.”

She snapped her book shut with a loud clap, turning to look at him with fluttering lashes and mock sweetness dripping from her voice. “Black, what can I do to make you go away? Preferably somewhere far, far away.”

“Oh, I’m glad you asked,” flashing her his most charming smile. “You, James—you know James, the most eligible bachelor in school, according to my recent survey.”

“Survey?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “I’m the only participant in my survey, thus far, but that’s besides the point.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer despite her protests. 

“Picture this,” he waved his free hand in front of them as if painting a grand scene, “summer wedding, a big white tent, twinkling stars in a clear night sky, all of your favorite people yet exclusive enough to give it that wedding-of-the-year kind of feel. I say we don't invite that sister of yours to really drive the point home,” he paused, “and me, the best man, getting mistaken for the groom all night because, frankly, I’m just more dashing in a suit than James is.”

Lily rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed. “If I have to start dealing with you asking me out on James’ behalf, I’m transferring schools,” she said dryly.

Sirius seemed to take offense at her words. “You think James could make me do anything?” He held her there, shaking his head in exaggerated pity. “I just see two very charming, very dense, incredibly oblivious—”

“Are you insulting me now?”

“—idiots who can’t get out of their own way,” he continued. “Do you have any idea what it’s like listening to James pine after you for years only for him to say he’s suddenly moved on? I can’t accept it.” He looked at her with downcast eyes as if burdened by his friend's plight.

“Black.”

“Yes, my future sister-in-law?”

Lily pulled herself free from his grasp and stood up, casting him a withering glare. “Kindly, fuck off.”

His words echoed in her mind—moved on. There was something about them that made her feel off somehow, but she quickly shook it off.

Sirius followed her, undeterred. “I beg you—go out with James, marry him, and have his beautiful, practically-blind, curly-haired children.”

Lily’s laugh was something between amused and utterly unhinged. She turned to face him, grabbing him by the shoulders this time. “I swear, Black, if anyone walks into this room right now, therefore freeing me of you, I’m going to marry them and I’ll love them forever, just to spite you. I swear it—”

The words died in her throat as the familiar creak of the portrait hole filled the room, both heads whipping in its direction.  

There, standing in the doorway, was none other than James Potter—hair even messier than usual, glasses slightly askew. He paused, brow furrowed, staring back at the two of them.

Lily’s jaw dropped, her words caught somewhere between shock and disbelief.

Sirius’ eyes lit up like a proud father. 

“Uh, did I miss something?” James asked, looking between the two. 

Sirius turned to face his friend, awarding James with an exaggerated slow clap. “Well done, mate. You have finally mastered the art of perfect timing.”

James looked from Lily to Sirius, thoroughly baffled. “What’s going on?”

Lily shot Sirius a death glare. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Sirius raised a solemn hand to his heart, closing his eyes in faux reverence. “The universe has spoken, Ms. Evans, and I am but a humble messenger for Lady Fate.” He turned to James, bowing and raising his arm to gesture towards Lily as if he was presenting her. “Please, do collect your bride!”

James blinked, taking a step back. “Wait, what?”

Sirius bursted into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing off the walls and shattering any quiet the common room might have had left. Lily groaned and buried her face in her hands, regretting every single word she’d said—knowing that Sirius Black would never let her forget this moment as long as she lived.  

James glanced at Sirius, who was practically rolling on the floor at this point, then back at Lily, entirely lost. “Did…did I do something?”

“Mate, how do you feel about a honeymoon in the countryside?”

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 8: TERMINAL PARADISE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high/drunk sex, dubcon, somnophilia, oral sex, threesome, the boys being........ evil?

ੈ✩ wc: 7.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: what's upppPP i'm a little tipsy rn but. here is chapter eight. title from the adrianne lenker song. anyways this chapter is very self-indulgent but as i read it back it makes me like. sad. i shan't elaborate. it's very stupid olympic sex i'll tell u that. belligerent fucking if u will

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

June, 2009

Heat sticks onto you like a leech. You’ve started to think you’ve become one, what with the dark side of your technique. You walked the halls feeling like a white deer that failed to blend into a thicket.

You latch onto your boys like a leech, too. Fighting for space in the same sky in between the sun and the moon. Suguru likes to tell you you’re the stars in small ways, always a gleam in your eye despite mostly feeling dim. There isn’t much time for moping anymore, Satoru tells you. It’s the summer, after all. 

It’s quiet on Onjuku Beach. Well, quiet enough, save for the occasional splashing and the sound of Satoru’s cackles as he swims underwater and pulls Utahime’s ankle. You hold back laughter, watching her lash out like she usually does, Satoru running away like a little kid.

You take a bite of watermelon, the juice dripping out of the corner of your mouth. When you feel Suguru’s weight on the blanket next to you, you give him a slice. He wipes your mouth with the pad of his finger and tastes it on his tongue. He’d gotten accustomed to grooming you like that. Braiding your hair and sticking petals in it in the spring. Rubbing your shoulders with suntan lotion.

You glance at him afterward, when he’s not looking, grappling with the urge to bite him on the shoulder. You think that maybe Satoru would. You aren’t sure if you have the same privilege.

The afternoon drags on, barely changing the summer sky as the tide stays consistent between you and the moon. Shoko and Utahime had headed back an hour before, leaving Satoru’s head in your lap and Suguru seemingly napping underneath a Murakami novel. 

You’d scrunched your nose up at the sight of it—Norwegian Wood. You’d teased Suguru about it, accusing him of being pretentious with a secret love for hollow female characters. He’d rolled his eyes, tipping back a beer, teasing you for bringing No Longer Human.

“Talk about dysfunctional and sad,” he sneered. 

Satoru’s damp hair isn’t helping the shiver of your thighs, the sheen of your smooth skin now riddled with goosebumps. He’d teased you for taking the time to shave every part of your body before the mission, something you never did. Keeping up your appearance when you didn’t need to for him. Suguru likes a bush, too, you know. 

You flushed when he said that, like your face was on fire.

Being day drunk is fun, you decide. Haziness suits the three of you.

You’re sweltering, to say the least, considering the late afternoon sun is setting in a place that hits you directly. Suguru stirs. You feel his warm breath on the side of your thigh as he rises, rubbing his eyes. 

“You think I tanned unevenly?” he asks, squinting at you.

You shake your head, smiling. He smiles back, yawning just before he snaps the side of your bikini bottom without warning. You wince in surprise, blushing.

“Wanna wake up the prince?”

“But he looks so sweet when he’s asleep,” you sigh. “And so quiet.”

“Real fuckin’ quiet,” Suguru laughs. He pauses as he looks at Satoru, as if skimming his face for something. He flicks his nose with his finger, making Satoru flinch and whine.

“C’mon, Satoru. Up.”

He mumbles something in between a whimper and a slurred mutter, nuzzling his nose into your lap until you feel his hot breath fanning your cunt. He whines even more when you shift, attempting to get to your feet and put on your cover-up when he latches onto your wrists with his hands. 

“We gotta go,” you coo softly. 

He obliges with a pout. Satoru had rented a house with an ocean view for the three of you to stay in, much too luxurious for a mission that would only last a few days. But he had the expendable funds, and he refused to stay in a hostel like you had suggested. 

He continues his petulant attitude, his stride like that of a child on vacation. It did feel like a vacation, if you had to be honest. The curses you’d exorcised the day before were hardly exhausting.

It’s only been three days in Onjuku, but you think that the boys are plotting against you.

It’d started the first day, Thursday, after a few exorcisms and one Special Grade made of tongues that they were able to kill in record time. Satoru had insisted on showing as much skin as possible, citing the heat. He was wearing your favorite shirt of his, unbuttoned to show off his alabaster skin, unblemished by anything at all, not even the hot sun. 

He’d also insisted on dessert for breakfast, pointing out the novelty shops along the coast of the local town with the titillation of a real tourist, as if he hadn’t spent weekends there as a child. That’s how the three of you ended up eating popsicles for breakfast.

He was being annoyingly sly, pinching and prodding at you all morning like a little boy. He’d insisted on mimosas before noon, Suguru oddly going along with his antics at your expense. You’d had popsicles at the beach after. Satoru wouldn’t stop staring at you, blinking through the brain freeze as his mouth went to work on something strawberry-flavored. He was obscene with it, his tongue moving in languid movements, disgusting you but burning your skin at the same time.

His lips were stained bright red for the rest of the afternoon, but it looked so beguiling that it had you distracted for the rest of the day. You knew you could have him — he had never played hard to get — but something would gnaw at you telling you the opposite. Made him like forbidden fruit, deluding you.

For one, he was either missing your signals or feigning oblivion, a game that you willingly became a pawn to. He had always taken up too much space, but now he was tugging at your hair like you were twelve again despite your protests. 

And then, when you were brave enough to sneak a hand on his thigh underneath the dinner table or cuddled a bit closer to him in bed, he did nothing. 

Suguru was less obvious about teasing, which made you feel like you were crazy. 

It started with small grocery runs. Suguru accompanied you after Satoru refused to go on the principle of having enough money to dine out for every meal. It felt domestic to pick vegetables with him. Both times, he’d thrown in a treat or a drink that he knew you would like without asking. He’d praise you after the day’s work in ways that set your guts on fire.

He had also, it seemed, picked up the same habit as Satoru of tugging your hair to get your attention. There had been fleeting touches to your waist, too, when he would simply be passing by you after you were done showering. Absent-mindedly, as light as an apparition. Shifting bodies as casually as two people passing in a crowded bar, yet it felt like a car crash to you.

He’d continue that for the second day. Even yesterday, when you had been using the outdoor shower to rinse off after the beach, Suguru had walked in with a drink to offer. Despite still being in your bathing suit, you had felt scandalized by his gaze alone. 

Now, on Saturday evening, you’re alone with him in the beach house while Satoru attends a meeting in Shinjuku against his will. 

Suguru lays on the couch lazily, his tongue jutting out to lick the side of a joint in between tea-flavored papers. You walk into the living room with a yawn, having just woken up from a short nap after reading on the porch. At twilight, the sky flushes pink and purple above the horizon. 

You think about what to eat for dinner, thinking about the prospect of cooking with Suguru alone, which should come as a wholesome, harmless daydream, but truthfully makes your face warm. There are plenty of restaurants down the street, some that even delivered, you recall from a brochure left on the counter. You were intrigued by a seafood restaurant that Satoru had promised to take you to—

“Want a hit?” Suguru’s voice interrupts your ruminating.

“Oh,” you blink. “Um, sure.”

He chuckles as you join him on the couch as if he can read your mind. “It’s like Shoko’s cigarettes, I promise.”

“I know,” you frown, pouting. “I’ve smoked weed before.”

“Last time we passed a blunt around, you kept talking about how it’s against the law.”

“It is!” you mumble, shrugging.

“Yes,” Suguru grins. “And we’re sorcerers that wield magic and kill monsters.”

You roll your eyes, taking the joint from his fingers. He hands you a Zippo, the very one that you had gifted to Shoko months before. You’d have to remember to pocket it afterward to give back to her. 

Suguru chuckles when you take a hit and inevitably cough. When he takes it back, he huffs and exhales a cloud towards your face, grinning with ivory teeth as his Adam’s apple rolls back. You can’t help but fixate your gaze on it.

He taps your knees in a rhythmic pattern with his fingers when you take the next hit. Already, your vision is vignetted with hazy white, but every movement between the two of you feels incredibly sharp, as if you’re wielding the Six Eyes in a dream. Your mouth feels dry, your lips bitten down by your teeth. 

Suguru had been too lazy to change after the beach, barely in the mood to shower until the dampness of his swim trunks had gotten to him. He’d changed to another pair of shorts, the inseam short enough to allow exposure of his tanned thighs, and not bothering with a shirt because of the humidity. Even this close to him, he still smells like sea salt. His long hair was slightly textured, naturally tousled by the ocean.

You sink into the couch, sighing. You feel as though you're overheating. Despite this, Suguru is next to you, thigh to thigh, the spot in between you burning. 

His lips feel chapped, his tongue dry from cotton mouth. He thinks about sticking it down your throat.

The radio that comes with the house is old as shit, something inexplicably adorable enough to be in a vintage shop but not practical enough to own considering it would buzz every few minutes. The signal is weak, crackling as Tatsuro Yamashita plays at a low volume. 

Suguru throws his legs over your lap as he inhales, passing the joint to you but not releasing it. Instead, he merely holds it to your mouth himself, lighting it with Shoko’s Zippo.

Normally, you’d shake yourself after a session, splash your face with cold water before you would start imagining things. You were addicted to the feeling of his fingertips, the sensation exacerbated by your high. The last time you were like this, you’d pictured Suguru’s mouth on your cunt, the image bombarding your mind throughout the night. You numbed the urge with alcohol, still taking bong rips until you threw up in Shoko’s trash can.

You don’t think you’re hallucinating this time. His fox eyes point at you and descend down your face and jaw. 

“No more,” he says.

“Why not?” you whine.

“Your eyes are glazing over,” Suguru chuckles. “So fucking gone.”

“I'm not,” you sigh, pushing his legs off of you and leaning into his shoulder. 

He welcomes you with open arms, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. He smells like his sunscreen, coconut from his fragrance, salt from his body. His skin is incredibly warm too, but so is your entire body, particularly your chest. You can feel your heart beating. You can feel his palm on your thigh. Scorching.

So touchy with you. You wonder if he’s high on anything else. Maybe that was why he was so affectionate today.

Suguru stretches his legs across the couch, your body like a doll’s in between his thighs. He cracks open the can of beer beside him—when had he gotten up to get one?

It’s more humid at night. Or maybe it was the slick of his skin. Either way, you think your hair must be matted with sweat, a messy braid loosening at the back of your head. Strands spin in between Suguru’s fingers like loose threads of a sweater.

“You’re excited.”

“What?” you squeak out, surprised. His voice interrupts a miasma of inebriated thought loops, dripping desire bombarding the forefront of your mind. 

“Your heart’s beating fast,” he observes. “And you get real horny when you're high.”

"I don't—”

"Don't think Shoko and I don't notice Satoru stealing you away when we smoke," he laughs.

His fingers curl around your jaw, lowering to feel the quickening pulse of the right side of your neck. You’d surely smell like him by the time you shower tonight. Coconut and sea salt and beer.

You shake your head.

Suguru had been at a deficit with you for the past six months. He would dream about your cunt sometimes, the sight of you on New Year’s permanently etched into his brain. He and Satoru still looked at the same magazines they’d collected in adolescence, spilling ropes of white to the same pages that had always gotten him going, but you were still more prominent in his head.

He would think of your mouth parting from the sensation of his fingers pushing through the slick of your pussy. Your tongue exploring the underside of his neck.

Satoru has been overly possessive ever since the school year started. Suguru had started to believe that he would never have you again and that he should accept it. He didn't feel particularly entitled to you. The Six-eyed sorcerer had his claim on you since he was a child, anyway—Suguru would learn to get over it.

But now, here you are, in his lap. Your breath quickens at the feeling of his hand on your thigh. Suguru could bet that you were soaking through your panties, perhaps from the moment you found yourself alone with him.

Lately, Suguru wants you more than he wants Satoru.

He loved Satoru so much, more than he thought he was ever capable of since he’d met him at fifteen, but he constantly dreams of the softness of your skin instead. He liked that you were pliant, desperate. It’d be easy to coax a reaction out of you, letting him in the crux of your thighs with just the tiniest amount of teasing. Suguru knew that you would say yes to him as eagerly as you would to Satoru, your mouth already watering. It made him feel insane.

Your cheeks heat up when you feel his dick hardening beneath you. Prodding at the small of your back, the only thing separating you is a thin piece of nylon. 

“Aw,” he purrs. “You have a freckle right here.”

“Do I?” you breathe, your eyes lowering down to where Suguru’s finger strokes the inside of your thigh, the tip of it caressing a dot of dark brown. So tiny that you hadn’t even noticed it yourself. 

“S’cute,” he whispers. You shiver, then. His hot breath all over your neck is intoxicating. When his fingers skim your collarbone, he notices it’s hot to the touch, your pulse twitching the same as it does when he’d called you princess. 

You swallow thickly, turning to face him in his lap. He says your name with a heaviness that has your heart sinking to your feet.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t answer, merely turning your head to melt into him. High out of your mind.

He’s careful with you. His lips are soft despite being a bit chapped, his aftershave prominent in the air with notes of sandalwood. There’s intent to it, something you didn’t often feel with Satoru over the past few weeks. 

Your hands cup his jaw almost immediately, while his own hands cup the flesh of your thighs. They slide up to squeeze your ass, which forces a mewl out of your mouth. 

He didn’t think his cock could get any harder, wanting to burst from his shorts. It hurt.

“You’re so warm. You got a fever or something?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Your skin is burning. Wanna take this off?” he grins. A shark smile. His fingers skim the hem of your dress.

You do it without him begging. He doesn’t even have to convince you — you’re peeling it off, exhaling at the feeling of the thick air around you. Even with the slip of fabric off, you still feel so fucking warm against him.

You yelp when he grabs your breast, squeezing it along with his tongue on your nipple.

“Suguru—”

Your whine falls flat. You don't remember if you were meaning to scold him or to beg for more. He smiles with his forehead pressed to yours, his hands smoothing up and down the skin of your sides.

“Pretty,” he muses. 

“Pretty,” you repeat. He’s beautiful underneath you. 

A beat passes. You don't know who closes the distance first.

It’s a gnash of limbs, of lips, of teeth. Devouring each other. The weed made you so fucking wet, dripping into his lap through your panties. He doesn’t bother with them, pulling them to the side to fuck into you without a warning. You don’t even recall him taking out his dick.

The feeling of him makes you want to cry.

He groans at the bulge of your lower stomach, his cock carving out the gooey parts of you for him to nest in. The flush of your cheeks makes you look like a flower. Your cunt blooming for him, hot and tight.

You feel like you’re being split apart, like the skin of a mandarin orange unfurling beneath his hands.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighs, gaining control of his voice. Humming instead of growling, like he’s sinking into a warm bath.

You think it would burn if you weren’t so wet, his girth thicker than Satoru’s. 

He holds you by the hips, thrusting into you at a slow pace, breaking you open. Making a mess of your insides. 

“Does Satoru fuck you this good?” he grins.

You’re too breathless to reply. As if you even could, your face feverish at his taunting. You didn’t think you could survive a grip harder than Satoru’s, but despite Suguru’s gentle demeanor, his hands on you are brutish. 

You kiss him, licking up the taste of beer and weed, slightly herbal from the papers. He moans into your mouth when you grip his hair. It’s soft in between your fingers. Like real silk. 

Suguru had dreamt about this for months.

“You look so pretty,” he grunts, teeth bared. “Fuck. Thought about this for so long.”

You whine at his admission. His cock is impossibly deep inside you, coupled with the sensation of your limbs melting like boiled sugar. You roll your hips, cunt spasming around him already. Your nails make crescent-shaped marks on the meat of his broad shoulders, mirroring the same ones that he had made from gripping your waist.

Suguru’s hand holds the crux of your neck, tipping your face upward to look at him dead in the eye. Everything in your body is cloying heat, making it difficult to keep your eyes wide open, but he forces it from you with deeper thrusts. His fingers coax your mouth open for you to suck on, making you whimper, making you choke on his digits. 

There’s a flash in Suguru’s eyes, the smallest gleam that you had recognized in Satoru. Something predatory.

“Knew you’d be a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. “You think about me like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

He pulls back, leaning back on the couch to let you have your rut, your pace eager like a starved puppy. Part of him wanted to mark you up just to piss Satoru off, though he knew the bastard would probably like it anyway. 

“How do you think about me?”

“I—Suguru—”

“Tell me,” he teases, his smile serpentine. He pulls out to flip you over, your tits pressed against the arm of the couch. “Like this? Pulling your hair?”

"I think about your mouth. About your cock inside me," you say. Mindless. Under his spell.

The stretch from behind feels somehow deeper than before. He groans at the way your back arches, your hair in his fist. Your knees are already chafing from the leather beneath you, the back of your thighs burning from slapping against his skin.

“Close,” you choke out.

“Yeah,” he sighs, biting your shoulder. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You could pass out like this, you think. Your vision is already spotty, air stolen out of your lungs from the brevity of his movements. Your mouth hangs, wide open and slack as a pitchy moan rolls out.

Suguru follows soon after you — he can’t help it when you sound like that. He’s addicted. Desperate to live inside you like this, high in every earthly sense. He has half a mind to pull out before he spills, but he can’t pry himself from you.

Still dizzy, you lay on him while he cleans up the mess in between your thighs, his cum nearly leaking onto the couch. You’re surprised when he grabs the back of your neck to kiss you again. Neither of you keep track of how much time passes as you make out like teenagers. You feel almost faint in his arms.

“Fuck, you’re still high as shit, aren’t you?” Suguru says, squishing your face in between his hands. He slides his dick back into his shorts, light soiled from precum. If he hadn’t put them on again, he probably would’ve been too tempted for another round. Even with your hand palming him while you made out, you were clearly in another dimension.

Looking at him makes you feel raw. Like letting him fuck you was the same as volunteering your heart on a pulpit.

“Dinner.” It feels strange to use your voice. Swapping spit with Suguru wasn’t doing much for hydration.

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Want to go to that restaurant?”

“Mm,” you whine, slinging an arm around his neck. “Let’s do takeout.”

Satoru manages to slip back late at night, long past the time you and Suguru had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. He smirks at the sight, hovering over the two of you like the Grim Reaper. Suguru would surely snap at him if he was awake, but for now, the Six Eyes examine every contour of each of your bodies fit together like clasped palms. 

The room smells like sex. Or maybe Satoru is projecting, his jaw only now relaxing after keeping his teeth so gritted during that stupid fucking meeting with the higher-ups. He kept thinking about you, distracted by the sight of you at the beach, your bare legs splayed out on the sand. 

Suguru probably got to you first. Of course, he would. It makes Satoru bite his cheek, but it also makes the butterflies in his stomach feel like daggers.

He stills when he hears you hum, mumbling something unintelligible as you bury yourself in Suguru’s chest. It’s so soft, so innocent, yet Satoru has to excuse himself to your shared room so he can wrap his hand around his cock.

He thinks about your mouth when he’s close and decides not to finish. He’d rather feel you against him instead, skin to skin.

The sound of you mewling in your sleep is adorable to him — you do so in his arms as he lifts you bridal style, prying your body from Suguru’s grasp. When he puts you down in the bed, you look angelic.

Satoru rubs your thigh, prying your legs apart gently so he can suck kisses into the skin. You twitch, your breath heavy. Indulging in your dreams while Satoru indulges in his. 

You squirm, stirring when you feel his tongue in your cunt. You’re already so wet for him, pliable and ripe for him even in your sleep. He tastes salt, the aftermath of his best friend’s release, and he laughs.

“Satoru,” you mumble, your voice still in a dream-like haze.

“I’m right here, baby,” he murmurs, licking a stripe from your clit to your belly button. “Missed me?”

“Mm.”

The air is thick with tension as he rises to slot his body behind yours. Satoru pumps his cock once before he slides into you without much warning. Despite being wet, your cunt burns.

“Sator—” He covers your mouth. 

“So fucking tight,” he groans. “Thought Sugu would’ve loosened you up, huh?”

“Hurts,” you whimper. 

“Take it,” he sighs. “Take it for me.”

His teeth on your shoulder make you dizzy. You still feel like you’re dreaming, but the stretch he has in between your walls makes it all too real. Satoru knows he doesn’t deserve you like this, but he’d decided the moment he stepped into the house that he would be selfish tonight. 

He fucks you like he’s starved. 

Even in the wine-dark night, he senses his best friend all over you with his Six Eyes. You’re covered in him. 

You pant into his palm until he descends his hand to your throat, pulling you taut against him so that your back arches. He doesn’t bother with making you cum, mostly circling your clit to get you wetter. Inside you, he feels boneless, washed away of his irritation. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Oh, fuck. ‘m sorry, baby.”

“Too much,” you whine.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth the same way Suguru had done hours before.

With a mean cant of the hips, you can feel his body slacken after warmth fills up your cunt. Your voice is high and needy on the comedown. You taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your lip too hard, chapped from all the kissing of today. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, his mouth on the nape of your neck.

He falls asleep soon after, leaving you with your thoughts, still half-drunk on him, barely lucid. It makes you sick, the way you want him, the way you let him use you. But you liked it. You liked his violence and possessiveness as if his actions were love letters.

Satoru had you weaned on something so saccharine that you stopped caring about the possibility of it spoiling. You welcomed the rot anyway. You had your own to wield with your bare hands.

August, 2009

You dream about them sometimes. You were shocked that the boys didn’t have any more games to play with you during that weekend, the two of them collectively ignoring the smell of sex in the air and the casual touches. They still touched you in their own ways. Reminding you of yourself. Your role as a toy.

Sometimes, you dream about them together with you as the voyeur. You’d see their broad backs, sweat pooling into a navel. Tongue-kissing. They were both too large to fit on the dorm bed together, you’d imagine. 

Satoru gets clingier. If that was even possible. He sleeps in your room instead of his more often now, leaving his clothes tucked messily in your bottom drawer. It’s almost domestic, the way he starts sweeping the floor like it’s a shared house, the way his toothbrush kisses yours in the chipped mug on the bathroom sink.

Even when he's not physically in your room, his presence always lingers. The amount of belongings left behind that are Satoru's continues to increase. Video games he forces you to play with him. Manga piled up on the corner of your desk.

He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.

It’s during this time that you realize how touch-starved Satoru must’ve been as a child. He had clung to you then, too—always playing too rough, always finding a part of you to hold whether it had been your hand or your braids to pull. From an early age, he’d always needed that relief. Something to sink his teeth in fully.

He’s more than willing to wear his heart on his sleeve for you, which you find endlessly amusing. It makes him dopey, almost stupid in his affection for you. You’d consider yourself a girlfriend if either of you would say it out loud. Neither of you do.

Suguru likes to sneak up on you in small ways that evade Satoru’s watchful eyes. Like the times he sleeps in your dorm when Satoru is busy on a mission. Suguru will indulge your interest in movies that are more cerebral—psychological thrillers and slow cinema. Satoru doesn’t have the patience for it, always opting for a slasher horror or an action film. Suguru likes to be quiet with you in these instances. Likes to stroke your hair when you rest your head in his lap. Likes to fall asleep in your tiny bed, his larger body engulfing yours.

You’re being shared between them, though you aren’t sure of the conditions. You don’t have the guts to ask. You don’t even notice a significant change. Being attuned to the boys in physical and emotional ways is almost second nature to you, now.

Between July and August, the three of you are a set. 

A crowded bed. Weed-induced makeouts. Someone’s hand snapping the waistband of your shorts and slinking downwards. Sometimes, you can’t distinguish their touches. You don’t care to.

August is golden light waking you from sweet slumber. August is liquid gold in the sky reflecting on smooth skin. Bare knees hanging from rooftops. 

The summer loosens you up, much to Satoru’s delight. Enough to convince you to be more social, at least.

One night, your dorm is crowded—Shoko supplies the weed and Utahime supplies the alcohol.

Strip poker again. A unanimous decision because the school had poor ventilation and there were too many of you for your single box fan to air out the room. Shoko calls the game off knowingly—Satoru’s making his eyes at you again, drunk and high off his ass while you’re occupied with conversation. Any more clothing items stripped off and the rest of them would be kicked out of the room. 

You all settle on a movie drinking game, then. Something stupid, something American that Yuki picks out. You think it’s funny that she hangs out given her anarchist values on sorcery.

Satoru is, of course, annoyingly clingy and annoyingly cute. Hogging up all your attention the second you lean into Suguru in the slightest bit. You almost want to scold him, maybe spray him with a bottle like he’s a cat.

He doesn’t bother to put his clothes back on—not all of them, at least. He leaves his shorts on, though you think they must be a size too small given the inseam. You’re still clad in shorts and a crop top, giving Satoru any excuse to touch any expanse of skin between your hips and ribcage despite the number of times you complain about being too warm.

The girls get too drunk too fast. Yuki falls asleep in Suguru’s lap while Shoko and Utahime end up making out without caring about who’s looking. 

The minute the three of them are out your door, Satoru’s lips are on yours. Teeth adamant on biting into the flesh of your bottom lip like a predator. He tastes like strawberries this time. You can barely keep up before you register that Suguru is behind you, laughing, cursed energy flickering.

Despite everyone’s departure, the room feels smaller. 

Satoru has never been so eager to show off like this, believe it or not. He usually waits until the two of you are alone, though your reaction time is always too slow and the flippant speed that he takes you the millisecond you get privacy together is always too fast.

Maybe sometimes, Suguru would be asleep nearby while Satoru would tease you to sleep, but he’d never be a part of it. Certainly not in the same room.

So it has you deeply flustered now, just like it had been those many months ago in the late hours of New Year’s Day. Rushed and torrid. Two pairs of snake eyes on you. Getting torn apart by two sets of hands.

It seems that your suspicions on that beach weekend were correct.

Satoru’s been bringing up Suguru when he fucks you lately, asking you if you think his other half is more attractive. If you’re thinking about Suguru while he’s inside of you. 

Of course, you don’t answer—you never do. But Suguru seems to be in on it, given the amount of times he bumps into you, the way he’s started to call you Twigs. He seems to be everywhere, all the time, the exact second Satoru isn’t around. Like a scab that won’t heal. 

He buys you lunch often, likes to treat you after studying the more practical parts of Jujutsu. Plays with your hair absentmindedly just like Satoru does.

He’s doing it now, making your scalp tingle as he presses his mouth gently at the nape of your neck—a stark contrast to Satoru’s tongue in your mouth. 

“You gonna let Suguru watch, baby?” Satoru mumbles against your jaw, his breath hot. “Or d’you want him to join?”

You nod dumbly, barely aware of yourself. It’s how Suguru manages to get your shorts off so swiftly. His hands caress your shoulder blades with palms outstretched underneath your shirt. Your own pair of wings. 

It’s too easy—like picking apart petals off a rose. Rough as the boys are, they don’t need to be. You’d fold over for them without much convincing. You can tell how much they love that about you, how Satoru probably whispers about it to Suguru in between classes when you aren’t watching.

So sensitive every time I touch her. Like it’s her first time all over again.

“Suguru,” you whine. “Kiss me.”

He laughs and looks at you like a shiny new toy. Precious. Suguru is somehow more boyish when he’s high, his cat-like smile as lazy as his slurred movements. He’s always graceful despite the posture problem he shares with Satoru. When he smokes, there’s a lightness within him. Rolls off the shoulders like water falling.

He’s perfect.

Satoru preps your cunt with his mouth. You cry out immediately, feeling the vibration of him beneath you. It was good that they cut you off from the joint considering how many beers you and Utahime were passing back and forth. You’re light enough now to feel every lick and suck so acutely, Satoru’s mouth making a mess of you. 

Suguru works on your neck, then takes your nipple in his mouth. You swallow a moan. Kitten licks from both of them and you’re already convulsing.

“Think you broke a record, princess,” Suguru grins.

“Best girl,” Satoru sighs, biting into the meat of your thigh. 

“C’mere. Let me taste her.”

You expect Satoru to huff in protest or move out of the way, but he doesn’t. He leans over your body and presses his mouth to Suguru’s, licking into it obscenely with a small groan. Your eyes widen with fascination, cheeks blooming.

“How is she?” Satoru smirks.

“Perfect. Just like always.”

You whimper in response. They both smile at you; God and the devil. You swear their faces blur into each other.

“That turn you on, baby?”

“She’s so cute,” Suguru muses. “All fucked out already.”

Something divine awakens in your blood. You want to indulge in them, be their pet. It’s like your brain is melting into a pool of desire, dripping out of you. You blink slowly, feeling a pressure in your stomach that bleeds of desperation.

“Want you both,” you pant. Your lashes flutter when Suguru feels the slippery plushness of your walls with his fingers. “Fuck, want it so bad. Need it.”

“So fucking wet, holy shit,” he groans. “All this for me?”

“You?” Satoru frowns. “I’m the one who made her cum.”

“And I’ll make her cum on my cock.”

“Dude—”

“You need to learn how to share, Satoru,” Suguru chuckles. His fingers are incessantly scissoring into you, yet the two of them bicker as if you aren’t there. “You owe me for getting us in trouble last week.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that we both forgot to put up a veil—”

“Shut him up, will you, sweetheart?” Suguru interjects. “Shit, he’s hard as a rock.”

You whine when Suguru removes his fingers, but he’s quick to fuck into you. It’s whiplash, the stretch of him. Satoru rolls his eyes and leans in to cup your face with his hand, kissing you while his other hand pumps up and down his cock.

“Oh,” you gasp.”S-Suguru���”

“Does it hurt, pretty?”

“N-no. Feels too good.”

“Feels better than Satoru? Yeah?” he sneers.

Satoru glares at him, exhaling a groan in between annoyance and desperation as he palms himself. 

“You know, I was gonna fuck her face but now I think that’s your job.”

“I’ll fuck you after, relax,” Suguru chides. “I wanna kiss her.”

He leans down. His messy bun has fallen out of its scrunchie — it’s one of yours. Even when he has his usual hairstyle, he keeps it around his wrist sometimes. Now, his hair tickles your face as he kisses you, hand to your throat to hold you in place while your hips quiver at the sheer girth of him. 

“Satoru, c’mere,” you whimper.

He kisses you deeply before kneeling in front of you, his cock hovering over your face. You take him in your mouth, the flushed skin of his dick tight and throbbing underneath your tongue. You like the way he groans and pulls your hair, mirroring the way you were just pulling on Suguru’s hair when his face was buried in your neck. 

“Holy fuck,” Satoru moans. His thighs twitch. Suguru’s right – you look fucked out, eyes rolling backward. Must be the drugs. Then again, Suguru’s hitting every sensitive spot inside of you at a relentless pace.

“Such a good mouth, Twigs.”

If you weren’t getting fucked, you would’ve cringed at that. You hate when Satoru calls you that in bed. 

“Good cunt, too,” Suguru rasps. “Perfect cunt. Fuck, do you feel that, baby? Feel me up to your stomach?”

You moan around Satoru’s cock.

Satoru’s eyes are blown wide, a drop of blue expanding against the stark white of his sclera. He used to dream about this. His two favorite people in the world. It had occurred to him just then how much he wanted you both in the back of his mind. Wanted to consume you both in one bite.

He pulls out of your mouth, stroking his cock slowly as he watches. 

You whine something unintelligible. Begging, mumbling. “Faster.”

“Any faster and I’ll cum, baby,” Suguru groans. 

“Don’t cum inside her,” Satoru warns. “I’m still pissed at you for the last time.”

Suguru merely laughs. “Come over here and open your mouth then, pretty boy.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier but rougher. The impact of him is dizzying, the hand he has wrapped around your throat making you lightheaded. You can only stare with a parted mouth, fascinated by the succulent pink of his lips as he focuses on making you cum. You’re too out of breath to even tell him when it happens. 

It turns you inside out. Liquefying your body like treacle.

“You’re so cute when you cum, baby,” Satoru coos, squeezing your breast.

“Fuck, fuck, Satoru, c’mere,” Suguru slurs. He pulls out of you then, pumping himself over Satoru’s tongue until his cum spills onto it. He swallows and scrunches his nose.

“Battery acid.”

Suguru laughs, then looks back at you. “You’ll have to weigh in on who tastes better, princess.”

“My turn,” Satoru grins, his eyes a bit feral. 

You yelp when he manhandles you and gets you into his lap. He starts marking you up. Bites you a little too hard as if he’s trying to wake you up. When he thrusts into your cunt, you gasp, feeling him all the way into your guts. You spasm around him, still sensitive from Suguru.

He holds your hips and fucks into you at a steady pace while Suguru comes to caress your back, licking over your shoulder blades. 

“Satoru, you’re going to make her look like a domestic violence victim with the marks you’re making.”

“She likes it,” Satoru pouts.

“Fuck, ‘m hard again,” Suguru groans. “Lay her down.”

“No, I want her like this.”

“Too fucking bad, I want you like this.” Suguru pulls at you until your back hits the mattress and Satoru rolls his eyes, gripping your hips with bruising force as he drapes your legs over his shoulders. 

Suguru bites Satoru’s neck, peppering it with kisses. Watching them in front of you is tantalizing, makes you clench around Satoru harder. 

“Shit, you like that, baby? You like looking at us?” Satoru moans.

“Y-yes.”

Suguru spits in his hand as he preps Satoru from behind. It’s minimal, given how impatient he is. He reaches over to your bedside table, fumbling with a bottle of lube. It doesn’t take long until his cock fills Satoru to the brim. 

“Jesus.”

“Shut up and take it.”

Satoru feels too hot, too full. The feeling of Suguru’s cock in his ass inadvertently makes him bury himself even deeper into you, and he’s already on the brink. Suguru reaches over Satoru’s body to press a thumb to your aching clit until you cum with a strangled cry. 

The boys try to time their stuttering hips at a similar rhythm, but Satoru feels like he’s losing his mind. Caught up in between both of you, melting, barely lucid. Eyes squeezed shut with his mouth falling open. 

“Tell me you love me.”

You blink at him, wondering who he’s asking. The flush in his cheeks makes him look exhausted, spent. Drunk over the bacchanalian mess of it all.

“Love you, Satoru,” you whimper anyway. “I love you.”

He moans at that. Gasps when he feels the stretch of his hole split open on Suguru’s cock.

You watch with tears in your eyes, overstimulated from your orgasm. Over Satoru’s shoulder, Suguru locks eyes with you and smirks, not letting up eye contact nor the stimulation of your clit with his fingers. He doesn’t care that you’re convulsing underneath them, doesn’t care that hot tears are streaming down your face. He always thought you looked beautiful when you cried. It’s sick of him, maybe, but he wants to be the one to make you do it, even when it’s not his cock inside of you.

“Shit— Sugu—”

Satoru hits his peak, filling you with his cum when Suguru hits the perfect spot inside him. He’s whimpering. His eyes are glassy.

“Fucking shit, you’re tight,” Suguru mutters. “Gonna cum.”

“Not inside,” Satoru whines.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Suguru chuckles. 

Of course, Suguru disobeys, cumming inside Satoru with a guttural groan. Once he pulls out, Satoru collapses on top of your body, face buried in your hair.

You whine. You’re overheated, smothered. Your body feels as though it’s been rearranged multiple times like malleable clay in each of their hands. It’s a miracle that Satoru pulls his dick out of you at all.

“The hell was that?” he asks Suguru, out of breath. Suguru simply smiles, ignoring him.

“Let’s run her a bath. Poor baby looks like she’s gonna pass out.”

He’s right, admittedly. You aren’t even sure if you could get up if you wanted to, which is why Satoru scoops you in his arms. 

“We can’t all fit in the tub,” you mumble.

Satoru laughs. “Yes, we can. But fine, we’ll just shower after you.”

The two of them handle you like glass. The swapping of washcloths and soap bottles makes the ordeal ritualistic. Suguru runs his fingers through your wet hair while Satoru lifts one of your legs to scrub. 

“Little princess,” Suguru says.

“You guys treat me like a pet.”

The two of them exchange a glance. Unreadable. But there’s something of a knowing smile in Satoru’s expression.

“You’re just precious s’all. Perfect girl.”

You sigh, sinking into the water. Something turns over in your stomach, but you’re soothed by the sound of Suguru lightly humming behind you. They’re gentle with you. It’s ironic.’

Suguru kneads your spine and presses kisses to your wet skin. The smell of sex dissipates and the scent of Suguru’s shampoo wafts under your nose instead—he’d left it in your bathroom one weekend when Satoru was out on a mission. You have a suspicion he did it on purpose to get a rise out of Satoru or to make you smell like him. You didn’t mind either way. 

Every touch feels blistering as much as it feels soothing, somehow. White-hot, too noticeable, yet the feeling of their hands lets you exhale. Maybe it was the sex. You couldn’t even really look Satoru in the eye, not really. Something in the face was constantly changing, as if he was slowly transforming whenever you were joined together in ways that were beyond you.

He’d gotten rougher. Meaner in the hips, even if his kisses were meant to cherish. He’d get too eager. He always was, to be fair, but it’s been ferocious from him. Bruising your hips with the force of his hands, handprints adorning your ass. It would be Suguru to pick up the pieces, to soothe you with sweet nothings despite his cock splitting you open. It was only a few times since the beach trip, but it was as if they planned it together.

You realize this now in your post-sex haze. Steam in the air as heavy as your lids. They wanted to take care of you so badly. They just had to ruin you a little beforehand.

[dooleyrostron]

Embrace Elegance and Comfort with Summer Wedding Suits and Bespoke Shirts

bespoke shirts

As the sun graces us with its warm embrace, love fills the air, and wedding bells chime louder than ever. Summer weddings are a celebration of romance and joy, and for grooms, it's an opportunity to showcase their impeccable style. In this article, we explore the world of summer wedding suits and bespoke shirts, where fashion meets functionality, allowing grooms to look their best while staying cool and comfortable on their special day.

The Perfect Summer Groom Suit

When it comes to summer wedding attire, choosing the right suit is essential. Opting for lightweight fabrics that breathe well and keep you comfortable is paramount. Linen, cotton, and lightweight wool are popular choices for summer suits, offering both style and breathability.

Embracing the Summer Vibes:

Summer groom suits often embrace lighter colours that complement the season's warmth and brightness. Pastel shades, light greys, and soft blues are popular choices that exude a fresh and vibrant feel. These colours not only reflect the summer ambience but also help in keeping the groom cool under the sun.

The Bespoke Advantage

While off-the-rack suits may suffice for some, the discerning understand the allure of a bespoke groom bespoke suit in london. A bespoke groom suit offers a personalised experience, ensuring a perfect fit and attention to every intricate detail. Working with a skilled tailor, grooms can choose the fabric, and design, and even customise the lining and buttons to create a unique masterpiece that reflects their personality.

London Bespoke Shirts: A Cut Above the Rest

When it comes to completing the ensemble, bespoke shirts are the epitome of sartorial elegance. London, known for its rich tailoring heritage, boasts a plethora of esteemed bespoke shirtmakers. Crafted with precision, these shirts are tailored to perfection, providing the groom with a garment that not only fits flawlessly but also exhibits superior craftsmanship.

UK Bespoke Shirts: Unleashing Creativity

Beyond London, the United Kingdom offers a treasure trove of bespoke shirt options. From traditional designs to modern interpretations, UK bespoke shirts cater to every groom's taste. The abundance of skilled artisans across the country ensures a diverse range of styles, fabrics, and customization options to create a shirt that perfectly complements the groom's individuality.

Conclusion:

Summer weddings call for stylish and comfortable attire, and the combination of summer groom suits and bespoke shirts offers the perfect solution. The careful selection of lightweight fabrics, refreshing colours, and personalised tailoring ensures that grooms can look and feel their best on their special day. Whether you're walking down the aisle or supporting a loved one, embrace the elegance and charm of summer wedding fashion, and let your bespoke ensemble leave a lasting impression.

Original Source: https://rb.gy/p69a3

[soelstress]

Ambivalent Research

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Summary: Working with Ransom was never easy, so why did you think a joint research trip would be any different?

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , sex/smut, p in v sex , unprotected sex , oral sex (f receiving) , vaginal fingering , some language

A/N 1 - This is my first joint submission for @steviebbboi 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge and @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hoes Hootenanny. Sorry it's last minute!

A/N 2 - Prompts - - Enemies to lovers - "Slower, baby, I'm not going anywhere" - "We're both adults, we can share a bed for one night" - "Are you fucking kidding me?" - Withholding - getting scared during a horror movie

As a bonus, I asked Yenzy for two spins on the trick-or-treat wheel of potential doom... and for this one I chose the pillow fight!

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - GIF taken from google but page was listed for @writemarvelousthings

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The annoyed shout caused silence to fall as you stepped into the rustic lobby of the lodge. Optimistically, you had hoped that this trip would go smoothly… but of course nothing ever went to plan when he was involved, you thought with a disappointed sigh. “You’re fucking with me, right?” As you walked towards the check-in desk, you saw a staff member trying to apologize profusely to the person causing the ruckus. Any other person would probably see an exquisitely dressed, well groomed handsome man. All you saw was your boss Harlan Thrombey’s grandson, your fellow researcher and the biggest pain in your ass. 

Don’t-call-me-Hugh ‘Ransom’ Drysdale. When Harlan had said that Ransom would be working with you to research for Harlan’s next few mystery novels, you were filled with dread. From information you’d gleaned, Ransom was considered to be the black sheep of the family, a trust fund prick as they so lovingly called him. When asked, Harlan admitted that Ransom never had a job, only having worked as his research assistant for a summer. It was agreed between you and Harlan that you would have seniority, something you were grateful for as Ransom had been a reluctant participant to start, doing minimal work except for when he took every opportunity to cause trouble for you. He was an arrogant, self important conceited jerk who you wanted to kill… until things reached a peak one day. When Ransom had complained once again about working, you had lost all patience and your filter. “Fine! If you’re happy to keep sponging off your grandfather’s legacy and just remain a Drysdale in the self imposed so-called shadow of your parents rather than make something of yourself by your own efforts, then stop wasting my time and go!” From that day, Ransom had committed to contributing as much as possible. His work ethic might have improved… but he still annoyed you whenever the chance arose.

You subtly jabbed his side upon reaching the desk which caused his glare to focus on you. “Oops! Excuse me, Mr Drysdale. What seems to be the problem?” You offered your name to the staff member, the name you saw from his tag was Paul, who quickly found yours and Ransom’s booking were for the same company.

Another member of staff appeared behind Paul, radiating authority and a zero tolerance for nonsense attitude. Now this was someone who commanded respect, unlike the entitled idiot next to you whose gaze would have you murdered a million times over if looks could kill. “As my colleague Paul already explained to Mr Drysdale, unfortunately the pipes in his suite have burst, rendering the room unusable. Due to other bookings and events being reserved prior to yours, there are no other rooms available for tonight. We have called other hotels in the area, and found another suite at - “

”At a hotel 45 minutes away” Ransom interrupted. “Look, I need to be here for work. I don’t think you realize how important this could be for you, so why don’t you - “

”Share my suite” Three gazes focused on you though your attention was on the one that could potentially - and almost certainly would - make things more difficult. “We can share a room for a night”. Part of your brain screamed in horror and rebellion at the thought of sharing a room with him, but the other part scrambled to minimize the damage the arrogant asshole could cause with his big mouth and even bigger ego. Ransom opened his mouth to argue but when you jabbed him again and raised a brow, he knew to shut up. Or rather his version of shutting up which was to grumble and whine as he stomped over to the elevators. Rolling your eyes, you offered a small smile to the two staff members. “I’m so sorry about him, he shouldn't have spoken to you that way”.

Paul smiled at you gratefully, the weight of the world seemed to have dropped from his shoulders. “We have been trained to deal with such situations ma’am”.

You shook your head. “Just because a customer is paying for a service doesn’t give them the right to speak to you like that. Again, I’m very sorry and will be mentioning how professionally you handled this to my boss”.

”Thank you ma’am. Of course the suite will be refunded and due to the inconvenience, dinner is complimentary”. You thanked them profusely and headed to the elevator where Ransom fidgeted impatiently.

“So when should I get that refund?” Ransom huffed, pushing the call button.

You eyed him incredulously, somehow still amazed by his ego. ”You realise that Harlan will receive the refund, seeing as he paid?” Before you both stepped into the elevator, you pulled out your phone to call your boss. Upon hearing his greeting, a smile graced your lips. “Hello Harlan”

”Ah good afternoon dear girl”. You could hear the formality being replaced with fondness, a rare occurrence from what you had observed of Harlan. “I trust you and my grandson arrived safely at the lodge?” 

“Yes, though there is a slight change in plans”. Briefly, you informed him about the room being refunded and Ransom sharing a room with you instead of having to leave the area.

“Oh dear. I appreciate you being so accommodating, especially as I had wanted you both to specifically research the lodge and surrounding neighborhood for me. I must apologize in advance for my grandsons behaviour, as I know he seems to enjoy unnecessarily needling you”

”As long as I won’t be held accountable for any retaliation for the duration of this trip, short of bodily harm or murder”. You grinned as Harlan chuckled and Ransom gave you the side eye. You bid Harlan a good evening, ending the call.

”Retaliation huh? Now why would my dear Grandfather agree to that?” Ransom leaned back against the elevator wall. Your irritation flared at his casual arrogance. 

“Because he knows you ‘enjoy unnecessarily needling’ me Drysdale, and yes those were his exact words”. Inhaling deeply, you stood straight and held your ground. “Being a researcher is challenging enough, but to work for one as renowned as Harlan Thrombey is the chance of a lifetime and I’d be a fool to let anything ruin the opportunity. Which is what I told him when I applied for the role. After my interview and a few months of working for him, he said that he appreciated my honesty and work ethic, but also recognised I have no patience for drama or bullshit - a good deal of which is found within his own family, much to his disappointment”. Every word you spoke was true, Harlan had said all of this to you. Though you had overheard the specifics about his family while he was speaking to his caregiver Marta but you had met all of them in the few years you worked for Harlan. 

A dark brown arched. “Oh? And just what drama are you referring to?” With a ding, the elevator doors opened to your floor and Ransom hesitated before gesturing for you to move first. Finding your door a few strides down the corridor, you stopped and pulled the key card from your pocket. Opening the door, you waved for Ransom to precede you. 

”Take your pick, from your parents to your Uncle Walt or Aunt Joni. They all have their own drama. Though I wonder about how Harlan would react to hearing how much damage his eldest grandson could have caused by opening his big mouth without thinking. Newsflash Drysdale - any dramas linked to Harlan Thrombey or Blood Like Wine would be damaging. Those are the two names paying your income… and the only names worth mentioning. I’ve been doing this job for some time, so I’ll make it easy for you - despite what you, your mother or father may say no one has ever heard the name Drysdale with recognition outside of your social circle”.

Ransom's face darkened at the mention of his immediate family. “Hey, don’t compare me to those two. I asked Grandfather to show me the ropes for this business, so I could decide if it was something I wanted to do myself. But if by some small chance Grandfather leaves the company to me and not that idiot Walt, I’ve no intention to say that I’ve done my own work from the ground up. I’d say it’s Grandfathers and I’m just continuing his legacy”. A chuckle from you had him frowning. “What?”

”I think hell just froze over because I agree with you”. And you did. It irritated you that Linda, Ransom’s mother and Harlan’s eldest child, claimed to have built her business from the ground up by herself when in actuality she had used Harlan's money. And her husband wasn’t much better, you saw Richard’s eyes wander when you visited Harlan at his estate. All of the family repulsed you, trying to constantly outdo one another whilst trying to impress Harlan. But hearing Ransom say that he would honour and continue Harlan’s legacy rather than try to claim it for his own softened you slightly. 

Ransom had walked into the main area with a small seating area against the wall but a large king size bed dominated the space, facing beautiful views outside the windows. “You gotta be shitting me” he groaned, almost as if in pain.

When you saw the size of the couch, you knew that neither of you would be sleeping on it. It was soft and squashy looking, but more for sitting on than sleeping. Which really left you with one option. “For Gods’ sake. We’re both adults, we can share a bed for one night”. He glanced at you with an indecipherable look before sighing and stalking off to the bathroom and closing the door. Unsure whether to check on him after the look in his deep blue eyes, you hesitated. Oh yes, along with your annoyance of him came the reality that he really was a handsome bastard. Not that you’d ever tell him that. Dark hair swept off an angular face with soft pink lips and eyes to drown in, he really had won the genetic lottery. But his appearance aside, you had shared a few soft moments with him after the family gatherings he attended. Sometimes you would gently rub his back or pat his shoulder to ease the tension and resentment radiating off him. There were moments that you wanted to verbally comfort or reassure him, but after the brief physical contact he would pull away and annoy you before walking away. Part of you knew it was a defence mechanism, lashing out because it was all he knew. This time you decided to give him space.  

After eating dinner and making a plan to explore the area the next day, you changed into your pajamas - a matching set of cotton shorts and tank top -  and sat to watch a horror movie that you discovered had used the lodge you were currently staying at as a filming location. Harlan knew you were thorough in your research, so encouraged you to investigate any adaptations made to avoid plagiarism. You hated horror movies, much preferring a thriller or a mystery. But this was your job. As you sat watching, you hugged your pillow to your chest. Your heart began to pound watching the lead female edge into the dark room - 

and jumped as something grabbed you. Reacting on instinct, you swung out with your pillow and walloped whatever it was that had grabbed you. Surprised and amused blue eyes met yours. “Seriously? You hit me… with a pillow?”

Embarrassment was chased away by irritation. “Seriously” you mimicked his voice with a scowl. “You decided to scare me while watching a horror movie? Real mature, Drysdale”. 

“Pot, meet kettle” he huffed, grabbing his pillow and whacking you back.

It might have been immature, childish, just downright idiotic… but this man existed just to make your life a living hell. And you’d had reassurances from Harlan that any retribution this weekend would not be held accountable, So you decided the hell with it. And whacked him repeatedly with your pillow. Ransom was caught off guard for a moment before retaliating, making every effort to hit you with his pillow. At one point, you had stolen Ransom's pillow and struggled to keep hold of yours, Ransom in close proximity. Both your eyes locked as you panted, straining to win the pillow. 

The next moment the pillow was thrown aside and you were under Ransom, grabbing desperately at his hair, his sweater - anything to bring him closer. Your mouths clashed in a heated battle for dominance, filled with teeth and tongue. One arm propped his torso up to keep his weight off you while the other slid around your waist and pulled you against him. 

Once again your brain screamed at you - why the hell were you kissing Ransom Drysdale? More importantly, why the hell were you enjoying it so much? But your heart pounded loudly, drowning out your screaming thoughts and focusing on Ransom - how good his lips felt against yours, how smooth his hands felt gliding over your flesh, how he ground against you as desperately as you were to him. “Too many goddamn clothes” he hissed, yanking your top over your head and immediately latched his lips onto a nipple, fingers tweaking the other. Your back arched, pushing yourself closer to him. Desperate to feel his skin on yours you tugged at his sweater before he pulled back with a curse, almost ripping it off and tossing it aside before plunging his mouth to yours. His denim clad crotch ground against you, causing you to moan at the feel of his erection. Ransom pulled your shorts off, exposing you to him. His finger drifted up your thighs and across your folds before slowly sinking into your heat. He groaned against your lips, pushing in a few times before adding a second finger and curling them against your inner wall. 

His fingers worked a steady rhythm inside you as his palm rubbed against your clit. You moaned when a wave of pressure began to slowly build, rising to crest through you… and you whimpered when his hand stopped moving altogether. Desperate for friction you tried to grind your hips against his hand but he pulled it away, raising his head to look at his wet fingers. “Hmm.. I think you could be a little wetter, dear girl” he crooned, lightly mocking Harlan's usual endearment. When a snarl started to leave your throat, his fingers returned to the previous rhythm and any fight left you. His lips glided from one breast to the other, his tongue teasing and tasting your skin in time with his digits. The wave of pleasure built again, threatening to consume you and just as you tasted the first hint of release Ransom stopped again. You heard a soft chuckle which only fueled your frustration at being denied.

”Drysdale. So help me, if you don’t make me cum right now-” a soft brush over your clit briefly interrupted your threat. “I know a half a dozen ways to end you without weapons or toxins” your growl turned into a breathless whimper when he blew softly onto your pulsing heat. Looking down, you could see him watching you inches from where you needed him.

”Is one of those ways smothering me with this wet cunt?” Those blue eyes sparkled with wicked sensuality. “Then end me right now, baby”. Suddenly he licked firmly into your dripping folds, groaning deeply as the first drop hit his tongue which had you squirming from the vibrations. “Goddamn… you taste so fine, kitten”. He lapped away, humming as you began to grind against his face. The tension from your two prior denials built with a vengeance and in your desire, you gripped his hair and pulled him closer. His nose brushed against your clit and you cried out which he answered with a pleased hum as he firmly suckled on your clit.

”Fuck!” Pleasure coursed from head to toe, your mind solely focused on prolonging the feeling as long as possible. Once the tremors had stopped, you laid for a moment to gather your thoughts. Glancing to the side you saw Ransom facing you, laying on his back with his hands behind his head and that goddamn smug-sonofabitch-smirk etched on his face, lips glistening from your juices. 

Suddenly filled with an urge to wipe the smirk off his face you moved to pull his jeans and boxers down, watching as his cock was freed. God, no wonder he walked around with that attitude. He was big, and for a moment you wondered how the hell it was meant to fit in you but you didn’t want to say it aloud and give him yet another ego boost. Scrambling to straddle him, you squirmed as his flesh rubbed between your folds. “Woah… slower, baby, I’m not going anywhere” Ransom chuckled which turned into a gasp when you squeezed him with your hands. Guiding his tip, you both moaned when it rubbed over your clit. Biting your lip you began to sink onto him. “Shit” he hissed, hands moving to grip your hips and control your descent. Moaning from the stretch you wriggled on him, unable to sit comfortably on his thighs. Cursing, he gently pushed you to lean back and you slid flush against him, the movement causing his cock to rub deeply within you. At your whimper, his eyes flashed to you. “You ok?”

Grinding against him, a small keen echoed through the room. “Feels so good… fuck… you’re so big”. 

Hearing your voice crack on the last word, Ransom began to roll his hips watching as you lost yourself to pleasure. Head tipped back, chest heaving and hands grasping for something. Ransom bucked up into you and then groaned when your hands dug into his flesh. ”Oh… my kitten has claws” he whispered, relishing the sight of the red marks. Feeling you clench around him Ransom continued to buck into you, his hands gripping your hips. ”Fuck yes… you want my cum kitten? Gonna cream this sweet little pussy”. You moaned loudly at his words, his hands guiding you through deep strokes as your walls sucked at his throbbing cock insistently. Your body began to tremble with that oh-so-familiar heat and you clenched tightly around Ransom, suddenly terrified he was going to edge you again. “Not gonna stop, baby” he murmured, gasping as your body shook with pleasure. “That’s it kitten, squeeze me. I’m gonna cum so hard for you”. Suddenly he tugged you down to him for a deep kiss, groaning against your lips as he came deep within you.

Panting, you rested against Ransom’s chest and heard the gentle lub-dub of his heart. His fingers brushed cautiously against your cheek, cupping your face when you pushed further into his touch. He tensed and you worried that he was going to revert to his pattern of lashing out. You couldn’t handle that, not after this. You cared about him, somehow falling for him along the way despite the antagonism between you. “Please”. He looked down at you, worry lining his face. “Please don’t pull away, Ransom”. 

Shaking his head, Ransom held you close. “I’m sorry baby, for being an asshole and making things difficult for you. Honestly, I just wanted you to notice me. But I’ve wanted more since you basically told me to grow some balls and make something of myself. You’re the first person apart from Grandfather to see something in me”. Ransom sighed heavily. “I’m a mess, kitten. Fuck, you’re more than familiar with the shit show that is my so-called family”. Your heart ached at the bitterness lacing his voice and moved your hand to rest on his chest. “I don’t know how to do this” he gestured between you before capturing your hand with his and pressing his lips to your palm. “But I want to try. For you. With you. I’m probably going to upset you and definitely annoy you… but I want to try and make you happy”.

“Like our research”. He cocked his head at your answer. “Research means that you don’t know, but are willing to find out”. At your soft giggle, his blue eyes sparkled. “Together. We’ll do it together”.

[the-hub-vadodara]

Summer just got a style upgrade with the latest Jack & Jones collection at The HUB! Discover the season's must-have casuals, where comfort meets cool in every stitch. Your summer story begins here, in style.

[nhlclover]

i can see you | jack hughes

summary: a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is becoming more and more difficult to keep hidden.

request: yes / no

warnings: semi-nsfw content, making out, implications of sex (i think?)

a/n: based on 'i can see you' by taylor swift. woah look at me posting!!! life got so busy recently so i am so sorry for not posting. thank you guys for the continuous support, it truly means the world. i might open requests again soon but i am balancing my summer job (camp counsellors 4 the win) so it might not be open for long. love you guys loads🩷 also I'm sorry i kinda hate this...

word count: 0.8k

Dawson and you walk into the reception area, taking in the sight of the entire Devil's roster dancing to Abba. You two step off to the side, grabbing glasses of wine from the bar and watching as your brother's teammates slightly embarrassed themselves. 

“Hey, man.” You hear his voice say. Looking to your right, he’s standing there, just feet away, in his new black Prada suit. The same suit you picked out as you spent 2 hours on the phone with Jack going over options. He looked chiselled in the suit which fit him in all the right places. You thanked his tailor in your head.

You never understood why your brother held off on introducing you to Jack. It took a couple of months before you were introduced to him at a game. Then you understood. Jack was the kind of guy you could easily become addicted to. His laugh, his humour, the way his eyes would make you feel like the only one in a room of hundreds.

“Wassup bud?” Your brother says, pulling Jack in for a hug. “You clean up nice. Your mom dress you tonight?”

“Not my mom, but I did have some help.” He chuckles. You know he’s talking about you but you don’t dare react to his comment.

The two of you were unsure how your brother would react to news of the two of you being... whatever you were. But suffice it to say you didn't think it would go well. To save both of you from being killed, you simply kept it a secret. Move fast and keep quiet.

“Oh don’t tell me someone was finally able to strap you down?” Dawson teases, clapping him on the shoulder.

Jack pushes Dawson's hand away giving him a playful shove. He turns to you, your breath catching as your eyes lock with one another. 

“How’re you, y/n?” He asks. 

“Uh just fine, thanks for asking.” You reply.

Brown Eyed Girl begins to play through the speakers and Dawson has already abandoned you in favour of Nico and Timo, who had both discarded their ties. 

“You look fantastic.” Jack says to you.

Your cheeks flush pink. Jack, loving his effect on you, flashes a delightful grin adding to the hue. “Thank you, Jack.”

He shoves a hand in his pants pocket, fishing around briefly before pulling out a small piece of paper. “Here.” Is all he says, pushing the scrap in your hand before walking back to the rest of the group.

You step off to the side, setting your wine glass down and unfolding the paper. Written in Jack's handwriting is ‘meet me @ midnight’. A small, uneven heart is drawn underneath. You smile to yourself, tucking the note into your handbag.

You join the rest of the wedding, spending the remaining hours thinking about Jack's note. The pair of you throw longing glances across the room to one another but don’t get close enough for more than a brush of knuckles. But that slight touch sent a rush of electricity from your hands to your feet. 

There are 5 minutes left till midnight when you excuse yourself from the still lively party, slipping down the hall of the country club that the bride and groom had chosen as their venue. Jack never told you where to meet him so you wander around, looking behind every door for the shaggy-haired boy. 

You had lost yourself within the corridors of the venue, having made a great many lefts and rights that you had lost track of. You keep walking until you finally spot a figure at the end of the hall staring out the window into the inky sky. 

The click of your heels makes Jack spin around. His necktie is loose around his collar, the top two buttons undone. 

“Hey.” You say softly.

“Holy shit.” Jack breathes out.

You stop in front of him, furrowing your eyebrows. “What?” You ask.

“You look fucking amazing.” 

Jack’s hands are on your hips as if being pulled to them by a magnetic force. He dips his head down, connecting your lips. He presses soft kisses to your lips, slowly trailing them down your jaw to your neck. Jack slips his arms from his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor.

His hands are back on hips as his lips are on yours. There’s a certain sense of hunger as you both know you don’t have much time. He walks you back, pressing you firmly between his firm body and the wall. Pinning a knee between your legs, he holds you up as his kiss weakens your knees. 

The pair of you are breathless when you break apart. His hair has fallen over his eyes, his lips a light scarlet colour. You reach up, brushing away his bangs. His lips hook to the left as he flashes a smirk. You pull him back in, feeling his lips smile against yours. 

The both of you are suddenly trying doorknobs, looking for an empty room. You finally slip into an empty dining room, you taking a seat on a table. His hands push up the skirt of your dress, the music from the wedding drowning out any noises the two of you made.

[crazyoffher]

PARANOID.

wednesday addams x fem!reader

summary: wednesday becomes what one would call "jealous" and the only way to get her to stop is through confession.

warnings: none.

word amount: 2300+

a/n: this is a rewrite of my old wednesday fic "jealousy doesn't suit me well" (old version now archived)

Ajax, a gorgon boy, was somebody that you considered your best friend. He was one, if not the most energetic person you’ve met beside Enid. You loved him dearly, seeing as he was the only person willing to even sit next to you in class when you first started at Nevermore, and your friendship with him quickly grew.

In present time, you hung out with a newcomer in the same year as you, a deathly Wednesday Addams, more than you hung out with Ajax. He understood well, seeing as your crush on the monotone girl grew like wildfire and he was distancing himself from you too, finding his time consumed by day-to-day dealing with his own crush.

A nice, peculiar girl by the name of Enid Sinclair, but God, did she have to annoy you that much? You knew she only ever meant well, so you tolerated her for the sake of Wednesday and Ajax.

As the months drew closer to summer, you made a pact with the gorgon that you would hang out with him a lot more for the sake of friendship, homework, and crushes. That put a toll on Enid, constantly being cornered by the girl and swearing to make pinky promises that you weren’t sneakily getting with him, which you mentally gagged at the thought of.

He was a nice guy. Well groomed, kind-hearted, intelligent, and attractive, but he just wasn’t for you. After all, your eyes grew into hearts only for one psychotic goth girl.

On the topic of her, your constant hanging out didn’t only affect Enid, but Wednesday too, the girl seemingly more sullen and dead-eyed when you’d drop by her dorm to say goodnight after spending the entire day with Ajax. She constantly bombared you with questions…

“Where were you?”

“Were you alone with him?”

“Why do you feel the need to constantly be in his presence?”

And every time, you’d give her the same answer.

“I can’t tell you.”

That wasn’t a lie, you genuinely couldn’t for the life of your own sanity and Ajax’s. She’d shut up after your responses, to your surprise, and give you a small goodbye before shutting the door in your face.

You felt bad, and you’d only hope your plan would work out in the end. Your shreds of hope being thin didn’t ever help your nerves as the days passed by like television calendar montages, paper after paper being discarded because you just couldn’t form your emotions right.

In the present timeline, your head was lulled down as you made your way through the halls of Ophelia, walking down the pathway mindlessly with your feet stuttering a bit as if you were a drunkard. Your hand rummaged in your pants, desperately trying to get a grip on the slippery key, and you shut your eyes in contentment when you pulled the metallic object out of your pocket.

“Finally.” A mutter was vocalized from nobody but you, rubbing your eyes with your other hand from your need for rest as you trudged up to your dorm room door, the space empty as your former roommate had recently faced expulsion for a reason that was still classified as unknown. You shoved the key into the lock with might, hand clasping over your mouth as you let out a deep yawn, feet stuttering once more into the room.

You were tired, but even saying that was an understatement. You felt close to death, your classes taking their normal toll on you, and you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to help Eugene get his bees in control at the tiring hour of 5:30 a.m. It had been nineteen hours since you had awakened, and last time you checked, that wasn’t a good thing in your books.

The bright lights lit up the room immediately after flipping the switch, verbally groaning, and shutting your eyes as you walked further into the room. You soon faced your closet, squinting your eyes as you searched for a fresh pair of pajamas, but your eyes flew open, and you let out a small yelp at the voice coming from the other side of the room.

“Back so late?”

“Fuck, Wednesday!” You jumped, your hands flying to your chest in an attempt to calm your breathing. Through your widened eyes, you noticed the girl sitting on your former roommate's bed, hands intertwined and set on her lap, her posture straight, and her eyes bored into your figure. “You are aware it’s midnight, right? What’re you doing here?”

“I could only presume you were aware of the time too.” Wednesday stood up, her posture still straight, and she walked toward your study desk, fixing up the mess that consisted of pencils and papers strewn out. “Curfew was two hours ago.”

You grabbed a plain black shirt from your closet, turning to give her a quick ‘really?’ look. “Yes, because I bet you care so much about curfew. Need I remind you of the times you forced me to break the rules last year?” The gothic girl didn’t reply, shuffling your papers into one thick stack.

“It was for commendatory reasoning. I know nothing about your trips; carry on the fact that you prefer to keep them private, but I can assure myself that what it is that you’re breaking curfew for isn’t an adequate reason.” She spoke calmly, well-paced, and formally; you could only mentally snarl at her quick-wittedness.

You moved to your drawers, pulling out the first pair of shorts that revealed themselves. Wednesday faced you now, her eyes never leaving your figure as she awaited a response from you. Her eyes were filled with their normal sense of death and destruction, but almost had a small glint of… sadness?

“And yet,” you started off, shutting the drawer closed and throwing the clothes on your bed, “here you are, in my dorm instead of yours. If you’re going to berate me for rebelling against a simple curfew, at least don’t be a hypocrite about it.” 

“What were you doing today?” She disregarded your words; her body leaned against your study desk, and your head turned to face her, eyes unconsciously raking over her body from her shoulders to her legs. “It’s like you want to hear the same answer every time.”

“I’d rather not.” She pushed herself off your desk, the lingering of your eyes over her body not going unnoticed, a small smirk begging to form against her lips. “I was hoping to get a different answer from you—the truthful one, you could call it.”

“The truthful one?” You questioned. She did a curt nod, her bangs jumping slightly from the movement. “Fine. I went to Séance Society at 1:30, Archery Club at 2:30, and then Ajax and I went into town. We stopped at the Weathervane for coffee and to do homework, then we walked around before we went to a corner store to buy snacks. We waddled all the way back to the school grounds, and here I am.”

At the end of your sentence, you pointed to your shoes, marking your location. Wednesday only sucked her teeth, taking a step forward before crossing her arms. “And?”

Your lips thinned, with dimples popping out at the action, and you tried your hardest not to create an outburst. You questioned how you'd managed to develop a crush on her when she drives you crazy. “That’s it. Why do you care so much?”

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change, but she was having a mental battle with figuring out an excuse to say that would sound like her. “You are my friend, and I care about my friends.” That didn’t sound like her at all. “I must know your whereabouts at all times for your safety.”

“Bullshit.” You stated, your gaze now fixed on her. “You wouldn’t ever admit that, meaning that those words were an on-the-spot lie-”

“Well, we’re not on the topic of me right now.” She interrupted, annoyance lacing her voice at your accusations—your true accusations. “We’re conversing about you and your secrecy. Tell me what you do with him; I’m not asking anymore.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you let out an agitated huff at her sternness. Your mind was in a battle, deciding whether today was the day or if you should just tell her half the truth. Would Ajax kill you? Maybe, but your confidence was at an all-time low, and you had no other options.

“Ajax’s been discussing with me a... uhm, sort of... plan about Enid. Ajax has a crush on her, and we’ve been figuring out a way for him to, er, confess his feelings to her so they can date. Yeah…” 

God, did you suck at lying, and Wednesday could see right through you. She advanced toward you this time, and from the distance between the two of you, you could see the mixed emotions welling up in her gaze. “What else?”

“Wh-that’s it, Wednesday. I swear-”

“But your swears mean nothing.” Ouch. “You couldn’t hold eye contact with me; your words were faltering; your fingers were itching at your arm; and your voice was half an octave higher. I firmly believe you are truthful in your speech about Ajax and Enid, but you’re lying to me about it being the whole truth.”

You gulped, your brain shredding under her gaze, and you thought hard. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5-

“Fine!” You huffed, stomping to the front door and crouching down to pick up the bag that you left. Wednesday would rather die than admit that she mentally flinched at your tone, watching as you ruffled around in the bag before pulling out a journal.

“Now is not the time to ask for my help on your homework, (Y/L/N).” You shook your head at her words, walking back to where you stood before and opening up the journal on a random page. Inside that page was a folded piece of paper, and your fingers twitched as you went to pick it up.

To say your nerves were at their peak would be a trivialization when you looked up and saw Wednesday standing directly in front of you, staring at you with narrowed eyes. You drew your hand out in her direction, silently telling her to take the paper, which she did not. “What is that?”

“Read it and find out. Not today, though! Tomorrow seems like a goo-” Wednesday took the paper, carelessly opening it, and her eyebrows scrunched when she saw how much was written. She looked up at you with curious eyes, not preparing to be outside your dorm room with the door slammed in her face a couple of seconds later.

You sank into the door, hands over your face, and you screamed, the sounds of embarrassment muffled. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” You repeated, bolting away from the door, settling into your chair, and gasping for air. You sat there for about thirty seconds, though it felt like hours, when a knock was placed on the door.

"Y/N, open the door," Your ears pick up Wednesday's voice, which is quieter than you anticipated and infused with a rare warmth. She sounded sincere rather than irritated or sarcastic.

You took a deep breath, getting up from your chair and going to unlock the door while swallowing your anxiety and peering out to see Wednesday's frustrated expression.

"Look, I know this is unexpected," you started in a voice that was shaking. ”However, what I stated in that letter is real. Wednesday, I've liked you for a while.”

It was like a major weight was taken off of your shoulders. You had finally confessed to the girl you’d been chasing for over a year, and you watched a battle happen through her eyes, multiple emotions mixed in her mind and overdosing her brain.

There’s a slight shift in Wednesday's mood, and you can see the turmoil in her eyes. "I do not understand why you would think that about me. I'm not exactly the easiest person to be around," she acknowledged, her tone containing a hint of vulnerability. Your eyes softened at her words, a pang of sympathy coursing through you for the girl. 

She had been so despised, so targeted, even if most of it was her fault, that it broke her down — broke her mindset down into believing that she was unlovable, even by her friends.

You take a step forward, your attention fixed on her. "You may not realize it, Wednesday, but you are incredible. You're powerful and unique, and I respect how you remain loyal to yourself regardless of what people say. Your willingness to go against standards intrigues me."

Her usually stoic face shows a small crack, a glimpse of uncertainty. "I've never been in a situation like this," she confessed quietly. You found that hard to believe; the beauty of the girl was something you drowned in most days, but you knew that it was the truth because people were afraid of her. Never you, though.

With a gentle smile, you say, "Me neither, but that's okay. If you let me, we can figure it out together."

Wednesday keeps silent for a second before taking a cautious step closer to you. "You make me feel... different, too," she confesses, carefully choosing her words. You clench your jaw to fight off the large grin that threatens to form on your face, and your heartbeat remained fast-paced, but for a different reason this time.

You reach out, taking her hand with caution in your movement. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in anyway, but she reassured you when she gave your hand a light squeeze. “We don’t have to figure out anything right now. Consider this… confession?” You gave her a small smile, and it grew wider when your eyes fell on the corners of her lips, watching them twitch into the smallest smile.

“Confession.”

☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @alexkolax @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @n0vabug