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sequoiadabrat · 5 months

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Diary of Yonai (sneak peak)

During the first few days of school, I made sure to wake up around 4 o'clock in the morning. I wanted to prepare myself to look the best that I knew I could. I thrived on looking better than I did the previous year. Upgrading myself, some call it.

I took morning showers, to ensure that I looked and smelled my best. This shower consisted of vanilla wash, vanilla sugar scrub, then after the shower baby oil and vanilla scented lotion. If you haven't noticed by now, I love vanilla.

After my shower, I tightly wrapped myself in my hot pink bath towel, then looked in the mirror. My eyesight was locked on the girl standing in the mirror.

She had luscious curls that stopped at her back. Everyone knew it was a wig, oh but the way she intended on her lace, her hair to look as real as possible, only the people who actually knew were the ones that knew. Her face was covered in small acne marks, dark spots, and she had hairs on her face. All that she hated so much. She hated how her face looked and she hated how it wouldn't go away. The girl, the growing woman in the mirror, her body was still developing, but by the way she was growing she was falling in love with her body as the days grew. Small breasts, small waist, big hips, big butt. She had a body everyone was forcing upon themselves. Though her boobs weren't as big as she had dreamed, she still had the butt that people dreamed of having.

Knowing that I wasn't a social standard never really bothered me, only times when getting on social media seeing girls that I knew were prettier than me getting heart eyes and compliments in their comment sections.

Lathering my face with pure African soap, I washed my face with warm water. While my face began to get dry, I sprayed my face with rose water. As this was drying, I brushed my teeth thoroughly. Using the tooth brush, I exfoliated my lips with the wet bristles. My lips were soft as a cloud. Applying my SPF 30 moisturizer and vitamin C oils to my face was my last few steps, before placing my vanilla flavored lip balm on my lips.

I left the bathroom and my clothes were placed on my bed along with my shoes on the floor in front of the first day of school outfit. With this being my sophomore year of high school, I had to make sure to pop it. Which just means I had to make sure I looked like I was hot, sexy, and fine enough to be a senior but maybe not particularly one.

I had the height of a freshman and the body of a college student, along with the face of a grown woman. I just wanted to look my age.

There were girls at my school that looked over their age, hell, they looked like they didn't belong to anyone's school. Looking like prostitutes on the streets during school. I highly doubted their parents knew they walked out the house in such outrageous outfits.

Mine was simple, even for the first day. Just some slight drip. Mini army green cargo skirt, a short sleeved black compression shirt that I stole from my brother a few months ago, Rick Owens shoes, along with my silver golden necklace, a couple of random simple rings, and a claw clip in my hair, just so it doesn't get lost or broken.

My school bag and my purse were both packed with essentials, and I was ready to leave my room. I shut my television off along with my lights, then went to my parents' door and knocked.

Responsible for bringing me to school and back was my dad. He was never awake whenever it was time to take me to school, so waking him up as soon as I was ready had always been my job.

"Dad! I have school." I stated while knocking.

The door burst open and he was standing in his pajama pants and a raggedy t-shirt. I shrugged at the thought of his poor attire. I went downstairs with my bags, grabbed his keys, then went out the door.

I sat in the car waiting for him to get in with me. Today I was early, because I had to meet up with my best friend and my play brother. We had made this new tradition for us to get to school early so we could smoke before school and be high for the rest of the day. We knew they didn't care much since it was only the first day.

The time read, '6:34AM', I was running late. School doors opened at 6:45 AM and we had to be in our seats at 7:15AM. I knew I wasn't going to make it.

My dad finally came out the door with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a cup of coffee. I huffed, rested my elbow on the door and sat with my head in my hand. He was taking forever and was wasting my time completely.

Finally, he got into the car and we drove to the school. The distance between home and school for me is about a quick five minute drive, maybe shorter. Though I was still late most days due to me running late or just not wanting to attend.

The car ride was silent. My dad and I never really had a relationship ever since I turned 12, when I hit my teenage years. He never really cared as much and I wasn't "daddy's little girl", anymore. I was developing and I always assumed he didn't like that or he just didn't like me. Growing older, this idea proved itself to be a fact. Deep down, I knew it was true, I just liked living in the delusion that my daddy still loved me, let alone liked me, it just got to the point where I couldn't pretend anymore.

Because of the short car ride, the silence was tolerated until he pulled into the school's parking lot, "Have a nice day." He told me blandly.

I smiled, then got out of the car. There was nothing I could say to him anymore. I couldn't even force out an, 'I love you'.

The school was practically empty. Once my dad pulled off, I walked to the park. There was a park and a community center in close proximity to the school. Both around the back of the school. The park being where my friends and I get together to enjoy each other's company.

Arriving at the park, Kaeja and ManMan were both sitting at the park and smoke blew from the direction of where they were sitting.

I stared in disbelief, I just thought they were going to wait on me to get there to at least smoke it. I understood rolling up the weed and waiting, but just smoking before I got there? Outrageous.

As I walked over, Kaeja yelped in excitement, "YONAIIIIII!", then ran over to me.

She hugged me, almost knocking us both over. I smiled and hugged her back. The whole summer I hadn't talked to her due to her having a job and me stressing and trying to find myself.

We released each other from the hug, "Nigga what took so long?" She asked.

Now that I had a good look at Kaeja, she looked different. Her hair was different, her skin was different, her eyes, her nose, her. She seemed as if she was a new person.

I admired her. Her chocolate skin seemed soft and smooth, eyes oval-like. They consisted of pupils that were the color of a deep and dark fall brown. Her lips were small, but were full and fit her face. Oh and her nose. I would kill for a nose like hers, She had the kind of nose that was button and almost like she bought it.

Kaeja wore a short, tight black dress with a varsity jacket that was two different colors on each side. One side was yellow, the other orange. The shoes she had on were yellow and white Nike dunks. She carried a small orange purse on the side that was yellow, making sure her colors didn't clash.

"Why you looking at me like that? Stop being weird." She giggled, then went back over to where ManMan was.

Kaeja and I were socially awkward people when it came down to looking too hard. I hated staring, it always felt as if people were silently judging me and trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Making me feel as if they'll find the things that I don't like.

I went over to them and sat down on the playground. The park was our home. We were safe and it was always quiet this early in the morning. Nothing bothered us. It was a sanctuary for the three of us.

We met ManMan at this park last year. The space was only for Kaeja and I, but one day we witnessed someone else at our spot and it was Man. We never called ManMan by his real name, because that's who we met him as and we held onto the nostalgia.

Sitting in the circle, passing the blunt around, I actually had the chance to look at Man too.

He looked his normal self, just more put together. His hair was freeformed, meaning it was all over, but we all loved it like that. Whenever we would tell him he needs a retwist or he needs to tame his hair he would tell us, "The hoes love it, stop being haters."

There was nothing we could tell that boy. Though his mane was untameable, he had a haircut and white lining around his lineup. His eyes were low and red due to him starting to get high. His lips were a tad crusty probably because he was smoking and didn't have the chance to moisturize. Knowing him, he had a chapstick in his pocket. He was clean to be a boy, a young man.

"Y'all ready for today?" I asked.

ManMan was the first to speak up, "Hell yeah. Ready to get them hoes on my roster."

Kaeja and I couldn't do anything but laugh. Whenever we all got high together it was nothing but laughs, even if it wasn't that funny.

"Nigga what?" Kaeja questioned, "You making a roster already? It's only first day."

He shrugged, "That's the best time to snatch bitches up. The good ones gon' by day three."

"Nigga tryna find him a eaterrrrr." I laughed.

They joined in with my laughter, "She ain't lying though."

"Couldn't be me and my man." I smiled.

"Girl boo, you and that nigga gon' break up as soon as he find some new cat to be fucking on." Kaeja told me.

I sucked my teeth, "That nigga know better."

My boyfriend and I had been on and off for the past few months because of him and his lack of communication. I was one that always wanted to talk, while he was the one that was more to himself and took an excessive amount of time to respond to a simple, 'wyd?'.

Kae and Man continued smoking, while I sat and watched. I was a lightweight and I wouldn't have been able to function during the school day being too high.

This is only the beginning of chapter one of 'Diary of Yonai' on my Wattpad (Projectbratt). The book is incomplete, but is a work in progress!

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judgeanderson · 1 year

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Rose was once again the entertainment at the Velvet Room club in the redlight district, Larxene having brought her her and set her up, but leaving her alone to go socialize with the other doms at the club. She wore the hot pink wig that distinguished Anderson from Rose, a pair of (small) heels, and some sexy black-lace leggings. Beyond that, a spreader bar keeping her knees far apart and her pussy exposed, a pair of soft leather shackles chained to the wall to keep her arms above her head, and a ball gag to muffle her complaints. Larxene did give her a little device to keep in her hands to alert her dom if needed (either for horny or consent issues), so she was comfortable knowing the with a push of a button, Larxene would come running.

A few patrons had had some light fun with her already, groping her breasts or fingering her pussy, but she had yet to cum, coming close a few times but being edged by the doms at the club. Her next audience was a group of three girls, all of them with elegant blue hair and similarly colored puffy dresses. They looked similar in the face, maybe sisters? One of them knelt down in front of Rose while the other two leaned against the wall on either side of her, the center one moving her hand close to Rose’s pussy and using a hooked-fingers motion to wordless ask permission to finger her. When Anderson gave consent (likely too eagerly given how on edge and desperate she was) the azul lady giggled and nodded, easily slipping two fingers into her dripping pussy and going to work.

As Rose twitched and mewled while the middle one fingered her, slowly but so skillfully, the other two began having their fun too. They each took one of Rose’s tits in hand and began to kiss and lick her cheeks and neck. The attention of three women, who were happy to let her cum, quickly overwhelmed Rose after a good hour of edging and the middle one soon got to watch as her cum gushed out around her fingers. All three of the giggled, sweet but oh so cruel~ The one stood up and let one of the others have a turn, this one pressing her lips against her drenched pussy and beginning to lick as the first one began sucking on Rose’s nipple. They were gentle with her, so soft, but between the three of them working her, these kind ladies were going to break her~

Some time later, Larxene finally checked in on Rose and giggled to herself as she watched the three of them have their way with a dazed Rose, who was completely cum drunk at this point from far to many orgasms at the three’s gentle hands. “Ladies. Lovely to see you again. I see that you’ve met my wonderful pet. Rose, the Azul Sisters. Ladies, Rose.” Larxene playfully made introductions, the sisters parting to let Larxene at Rose to begin undoing her restraints. “Alright, time to take you home. Say thank you to the nice ladies for making you cum over and over~” She casually ordered as she slung Rose’s arm over her own shoulder to help her walk on weak legs and the gag was out of Rose’s mouth.

Written by the lovely @nobodyofsparks

#Rose #submission #rose tinted #I love this thing to bits <3 #Their weriting is always amazing

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wumvinblog · 4 days

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hausofsaturn · 1 year

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my entire concert fit i wore for Muse/Evanescence!!

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lsybeautyhair · 5 years

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fashionpandacity-blog · 5 years

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remakethestars · 3 years

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CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny.

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers.

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred.

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research!

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels.

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Aphrodite #Aphrodite cabin #Aphrodite kids #children of Aphrodite #Percy Jackson #PJO #HOO #remakethestars #beauty #makeup #sewing #fashion #headcanons #headcannons #hcs

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elvirasemporium · 3 years

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heahair · 7 years

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Maybe You're My Enemy (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

a/n: hey, hi, hello! welcome to the first canon compliant thing i have written since 2017, i am *~ petrified! ~* . i had to write something to fix these two though after the events of episode 8 because i just love them dearly (and the fact in the subsequent episode Lawrence just dropped in the fact they’d shared a bed didn’t help this at all). thank you so much to @purecamp for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not a heap of shit (so if it turns out that it is then just blame her xo). also the song it’s set to is enemy by Charli XCX in case u want to get the immersive vibes!

fic summary: On one side of Scotland, Lawrence disappears from social media. On the other, Ellie reflects.

***

They say, “Keep your friends close”

But you’re closer, I love when you’re here

I’m so far away sometimes, I’m distant, yeah

The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. The stagnant water of the quay is grey, and so’s the metal rail that Ellie’s holding on to as he narrows his eyes, tries to stop the wind from hitting them and making him tear up.

As if the wind would be the only reason.

He brings his gaze into focus on the HMS Unicorn, sat in the water in front of him like some massive whale that’s been planted in a bathtub. It’s a fucking ugly ship; a glorified tugboat on steroids with a big bowsprit sticking out at the front all out of place, but he likes the little bust of the once-white unicorn that sticks out from under it. Ellie remembers getting brought here for a school trip in Primary 3, pointing to the unicorn all excited and getting laughed at by the boys in his class that he knew were going to grow up to be the ones that gave the teachers lip and got suspended in high school.

He remembers that Bryce made up the fact that one of the boys had “said the f word” in the gift shop later that day, just so Ellie could have the satisfaction of watching them get screamed at by their teacher. Ellie still fucking loves him for that.

Ellie thinks the unicorn is out of place in all this grey. He remembers the time he did his unicorn mix when he opened for Willam, how nervous he’d been and messaging Lawrence about it and getting a “this you coming out to me as a furry?” in return which made him laugh and forget why he’d even been nervous in the first place. He can’t help the smile the memory brings to his face even if he wants to.

And he wants to.

Lawrence always could make him smile, get a laugh from him even when he didn’t feel like it. He remembers with a blow to his heart what Lawrence had said on the show- “you’re not terribly funny? Like you don’t have…zinger-y punchlines?” - and how Tia had laughed and Ellie had wanted so much to bite back but didn’t.

Because he always could draw a laugh out of Lawrence. Granted he was usually laughing at him rather than with him, but Ellie could still put a smile on his face by acting dumb, saying things that Lawrence would subsequently repeat in a screech of disbelief that would always make Ellie laugh harder anyway. He’d always self-impose ridiculous dares on himself in front of him: in Hive, “here, what if I did the entire shot rainbow?”, in Nandos, “d’you think I could do the wing roulette by myself?”, in Glasgow on the Subway on the way to a gig, “dare me to get off at Ibrox and I’ll go to the Louden Tavern dressed like this?”. Ellie had been used to being the class clown for Lawrence, the jester for the queen.

Or maybe just a fool.

Ellie’s always hated the colour grey.

You might help me, intimacy

I’ll admit, I’m scared

Maybe, maybe you can reach me, yeah

His surroundings turn to silver as he shoves his hands in his pockets, heads towards the V&A museum that’s still glinting despite the lack of sunlight. He’s stopped by two teenage girls that are polite and shy and squeaky-voiced as they ask for a photo- he supposes that’s what he gets when he goes out wearing the pink and purple fur coat with the hearts on it. Ellie forces a smile and thanks them for supporting him and they tell him he’s their favourite in return.

After they walk away he thinks they must have been lying, but then he feels the frown etch itself onto his face as he shakes his head. The self-doubt is a hangover from filming that he needs to shake off.

He squints at the museum as he walks past, fleetingly thinks about going in and looking at some of the old fashion to cheer him up. A’whora’s promised to go with him when he’s eventually allowed to come up to visit, and Ellie snorts at the idea of the fashion queen of the London scene in Dundee. The thought of A’whora’s reaction to the Wellgate shopping centre- the Credit Union, the B&M, the Jobcentre Plus- puts the first smile on his face he’s had in days.

Lawrence had gone round the museum with him too, when Ellie had dropped him off at the train station the day after a gig and they’d been killing time. It had been weird to just dick about like that together the first few times. Weird the fact there was no makeup, glue and wigs, no alcohol or gay anthems to yell over. Just two boys walking around a museum together. Like a date.

Ellie makes a face before he even realises. Not this.

The first time they did all of it together was weird. Just like everything Lawrence had written. Nandos, cinema, staying at his. That last one especially. Ellie can still remember the way he’d stared up at the bumpy ceiling from his position on Lawrence’s couch in the pitch dark, street lamps from outside casting shadows through the blinds. The room was too cold and the blanket was too small and he hadn’t slept a wink but he’d still do it all over again.

The first time they’d both lain on Lawrence’s bed the morning after the night before, cracking up at Scottish You Laugh You Lose compilations on Youtube and Ellie being unable to help the tears that streamed down his face at Lawrence imitating “big shoe, big shoeeee!”. The way they’d been close and the way their arms had touched and the way Ellie had felt ridiculous for the way his heart was hammering. Just a friend.

The first time they’d found each other under the dark lights of CCs when they’d both been through in Edinburgh to support Alice by chance. The way Ellie’s heart had lit up like a firework when he saw him. The way they’d laced their fingers together without even having to ask permission first, the way everything just seemed to be as simple as tequila rose shots and pink lights and leaning against the wall as they smoked outside.

The way everything else had just happened so easily.

Ellie squeezes his eyes shut before he can realise what he’s doing. The memories have forced their way in, kicked down a door in his head that he’d been sure he’d bolted shut.

He needs to change the locks.

Maybe you’re my enemy

Now I’ve finally let you come a little close to me,

Maybe you’re my enemy

You’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’

Ellie is in the same Stitch onesie he’s been shrugging on since the last episode aired. It stinks. He’s joked to A'whora that he can probably smell him through the phone, and A'whora’s asked if he just sweats out Mango Loco Monster. Ellie makes some joke about wringing out his clothes into a pint glass if he did, which makes A'whora retch on camera.

He’s glad they made up at least. They didn’t have too much of a choice, to be fair. Apart from the way they get on so well, their bond and their friendship, A'whora’s the only other one who knows what it’s like to be in Ellie’s situation.

Except A'whora never stabbed Tayce in the back.

“You should talk to him,” A'whora insists, bringing the whole sorry situation up in a pause where Ellie must have looked as if he was about to make a vodka bleach mixer.

Ellie looks pointedly back at him through the screen. “I’ve been telling you to talk to Tayce for months.”

He watches A'whora pull an awkward face and he’s satisfied he’s hit a nerve. “That’s different though. You and Lawrence don’t live together.”

“Yeah. Least I wasn’t stupid enough to move in with someone I fancied, how’s that going for you?”

A'whora splutters a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Ellie feels guilty all over again. He feels like that’s his default these days. “Sorry, chick, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I mean. It’s fine. Just have to act as if I’m not in love with the bitch every time I’m around her, it’s not hard,” A'whora deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “You know Tayce feels the same. Everyone knows it.”

“No I don’t,” A'whora says instantly back to him, shaking his head and dissolving momentarily into pixels. “Besides, even if she did, like…it’s easier if she didn’t, y'know? All this…publicity, every move getting analysed. It’s easier to just…not.”

Ellie narrows his eyes. “You’re doing a smashing job making the case for me and Lawrence.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t get people asking where Lawrence is in every live you do. You don’t get people going through the show fucking…frame by frame and then editing every time you breathe around each other together and setting it to a bloody Little Mix song.”

Ellie bursts out laughing and starts singing Black Magic down the phone to him, which makes A'whora look pointedly at him before clearly being unable to hold it for long and instead laughing with him.

Both their laughter dies down and Ellie watches as A'whora smiles sadly, sincerely. “He’s worth the risk, Els.”

“Oh my God, prison. Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?”

The reference flies over A'whora's head and Ellie starts explaining the plot of the A Walk to Remember, steering the conversation out of the waters it had become marooned in, the captain of his very own HMS Unicorn.

He feels more like he’s aboard the Titanic with every message that goes unread.

Now it’s really clear to me

You could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper

“It didn’t get you a badge though, was it worth it?”

Ellie’s asked himself that every day since the episode aired. Since he made the decision, pretty much. Financially? Yes it was. It’s pretty well-known at this point in the grand scheme of Drag Race that with each week you’re on the likelihood of securing more bookings is increased, and now with his slot at Drag Fest he feels as if he’s hit the jackpot.

Everything else? Not so much.

Ellie still feels his stomach drop if he thinks enough about that untucked, which he does all the time. Too much, in fact. The aggression in Lawrence’s voice which Ellie knew all too well was a manifestation of hurt on so many levels. The way Lawrence chose the conflict that Ellie wished he could have avoided. The way Lawrence left his feelings bare while Ellie couldn’t trust himself to do the same in case he said something he might regret.

The fact Lawrence had thought Ellie had set him up to fail was maybe what hurt the most, though. Ellie had wanted to ask him how he thought he’d be able to do that after everything they’d been through together. He’d tried to tell him he didn’t think it was possible for him to fail at something he shines at. He’d wanted to grab Lawrence’s pink fucking headpiece and bash him over the head with it until he realised that he’s Lawrence fucking Chaney, he is the Scottish drag queen. Lawrence is the one who will say something at a gig one week and it’ll be common drag parlance across the country by the next. Lawrence is the one getting booked by the BBC Social to make educational videos. Lawrence is the one on posters across Glasgow, for fuck’s sake.

Ellie might not have been thinking about the worst case scenario in that moment, but only because he genuinely didn’t think there could be one.

After all, he’d had his opportunity to sabotage Lawrence. Ellie remembers the first day when the producers had wanted to set up the Scottish queen rivalry, asked for something shady they could use as a soundbite. The way he’d sought out Lawrence on a smoke break and told him about the situation and reassured him that he hadn’t given them anything, and the way Lawrence had just smiled back at him, softly and genuinely, and told Ellie he’d done the same. The way they’d minutely linked pinkies together before breaking them and walking back inside as if they’d barely shared so much as a glance, neither of them wanting to draw any suspicion their way.

And he could’ve been harsher in that untucked if he’d wanted. Could’ve said how for someone that was meant to care so much about friendship and sisterhood, Lawrence had been doing a great job shitting on him from a great height about his lack of challenge wins and his run on the show.

But he didn’t, because…well. He knows why.

Because the knowledge that he’d hurt Lawrence and lost his trust had done more damage than any joke Lawrence made at his expense could ever do.

Ellie goes live on the Tuesday afternoon. A comment on the chat reads, “are u A’whora and Lawrence still friends???”

“Yeah, me and A’whora are still friends!” Ellie bats the comment away with a fake smile.

He’ll blame his lack of comprehension skills if he’s asked about it.

I feel guilty, I feel nervous, I feel certain now

Maybe, maybe you can reach me

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up on Friday and Lawrence’s Twitter isn’t loading. Maybe it’s when he reads the other Scottish girls condemning the fans, the word fatphobia leaping out, grabbing Ellie’s heart and wrenching it tight.

Surely not this?

Ellie searches Twitter and what he finds makes him feel ill. He doesn’t know what he had expected- he’d known the frantic tweet urging the fans to be kind that he’d typed out before he went to sleep hadn’t exactly been going to create world peace overnight- but he hadn’t expected any of this. Everyone loves Lawrence, surely.

Although perhaps he’s just talking from experience.

Maybe it’s when he shoots Lawrence a message that goes unopened. In all honesty Ellie doesn’t blame him. A flimsy sentiment about hoping he’s okay that clocks in at under 250 characters isn’t going to cut it, and he’s grateful when Bimini, with all their empathy and ability to read a situation as clear as day, texts him and tells him that Lawrence has replied to them and he’s…well, he’s managing.

Maybe it’s when Ellie goes live with A’whora and he manages to mention Lawrence entirely too many times. A cry for attention or an old habit that’s dying hard? He can’t tell. Perhaps it’s both.

It’s definitely got something to do with the Facebook post.

Whatever it is, Ellie finds himself stuffing any old random items of clothing in a backpack and hoping it makes an outfit, shoving the spare key into the soil of the plant pot outside his front door and texting Anne to tell her where it is in case…fuck knows, the flat goes on fire while he’s away or something. He looks up the train times as he’s on his way to the station; a terrible decision, really, as when he’s still fifteen minutes away he discovers there’s one in ten. Somehow he manages to make it to the station with just a minute to spare and his heart lifts to find that the ticket barriers are open, so he dashes through them and hurtles onto the train that’s waiting at the platform. He catches his breath as he slumps into a table seat, having to take his mask off for a couple of seconds just so he can breathe properly. The way his heart is going at the rate the train’s about to isn’t helping.

The chimes of the train announcement cut through his attempts at slowing his heart down, and the little robotic woman’s voice confirms that his ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decision is actually happening.

“This is Dundee. This train is for Glasgow Queen Street.”

Because this is all so last minute, but he needs to see Lawrence. He’s apologised probably ten times by now but he knows he needs to make it eleven. He knows (he hopes) that Lawrence needs that eleventh time too. He knows that Lawrence needs Ellie’s persistence, knows that it’s all just an attempt at self-preservation. Lawrence’s attempts at shutting Ellie out are just inviting him to bring a battering ram. At least, he hopes. But like A’whora had said…he’s worth the risk.

The train starts moving, and even if he wanted to back out now he couldn’t.

So cold at the surface, I’m scared of nothin’

Underneath, I’m nervous

Can you reach me?

Ellie waits for the subway at Buchanan Street and his glazed-over eyes focus on a massive poster of Lawrence on the platform opposite. He briefly considers throwing himself under the next train.

The journey down had passed somehow in the blink of an eye and also agonisingly slowly. Too much time to sit and stare out of the window but not enough time to figure out what he’s going to say. He still doesn’t know. He’d said it all those months ago, he’s said it through texts and DMs. This time feels different, though. This time is different. This time there’s no cameras or runners or pink tables, or distance between them or tension at the fact nothing had aired yet.

It’s going to be the pair of them and Lawrence’s flat. Just like it’s been so many times before.

Ellie thinks he’ll probably just open his mouth, say whatever gets there first and hope it hits the right notes; a terrible decision arrived upon as a result of the lack of any other option. His mind is a messed up ball of television static, a knotted yarn of white noise that he can’t find the end of. He feels as if it’s made of the noise the train makes as it screams into the station, metal on metal and the low whoosh of the wind through the tunnel and the rickety shaking of the doors as they slide open and people stream off.

He picks up his bag and sinks down into the horrifically patterned upholstery of the seats, settling himself in for the journey. The little metal tin can of a train doesn’t take long to fire through the seven stops before Govan and with each one that passes Ellie can feel his nerves spiking and his mouth growing dry.

What if Lawrence isn’t even in? What if it’s all got too much and he’s gone back to Helensburgh for the foreseeable? Ellie could get a train up there, he supposes; he’s already on this side of the country, although he doesn’t know if Lawrence would appreciate the gesture or call the police on him.

Ellie concludes it would be worth it anyway.

He emerges from the Subway and the grey seems to hit him all over again, seeping into his clothes and forcing him to fight through the sadness that hits him like a wave. There’s a little beam of sunshine fighting to escape the clouds though, and Ellie hopes it’s some form of pathetic fallacy. Or whatever that one about the weather matching your feelings was. Fucked if he ever paid attention in Nat 5 English.

The streets of red brick tenements feel like pens of hostility as he passes windows that serve as frames for Union Jacks and Red Hand of Ulster flags. Even being raised in a Christian household doesn’t equip him to identify with this form of religion; where the disciples are football players and the gods are flags and the hymns are about killing Catholics. Ellie has always worried about Lawrence living here, told him as much, but he’s always been met with a bark of a laugh back and some comment about how he’s only saying that because he’s lived such a sheltered little life in Dundee and wouldn’t last five minutes trying to inhabit Glasgow and all its cheerful sectarianism. Lawrence has always had a very blythe attitude to the whole thing, and Ellie remembers when he’d held his hand on the way back from the Subway in full drag after a gig like it was nothing, the way some dick in an orange and blue scarf had shouted at them from across the street and Lawrence had just yelled back with an “awrite, babes?” as if he had a death wish.

Which is what makes this whole thing so grim. The Lawrence who drunkenly and sarcastically greets bigots at three in the morning from across the street doesn’t marry up with the Lawrence that’s holed up in his flat in the face of negativity. Ellie supposes that one homophobic Rangers fan is one homophobic Rangers fan, but Twitter can seem like the whole world’s population, and if Lawrence thinks the world hates him just because he’s reacted to something that was Ellie’s fault…

He feels his gut wrench.

Ellie turns into Lawrence’s street and feels ill. He could always go home. Turn and walk back to the Subway, train back to Queen Street, back to Dundee, back to the flat. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t even consciously made the decision, like it was all a dream.

He sleepwalks to Lawrence’s close door anyway, just like he knew he would.

His hand shakes as he presses the buzzer too hard, and the panic rises in his throat as the seconds pass agonisingly slowly. When there’s a crackle from the intercom, he freezes in fear.

“Hello?”

It’s Kiko’s voice. Of course his flatmate had to be the one to answer, drag out the humiliation of the whole thing. Ellie can hear the shake to his voice as he replies.

“Hey, it’s Ellie.”

“…Ellie?”

He chooses to ignore the disbelief, acts as if it’s normal for him to have travelled across the country to turn up on Lawrence’s doorstep in the middle of a pandemic when there’s a travel ban in place. He’s considering this essential travel anyway.

“Is Lawrence in at all?”

Kiko, for her part, seems to pick up on the way the whole visit is masquerading as routine. In the split second before she replies, Ellie finds himself holding his breath. He steels himself, prepares for a “no, he’s actually…”, to send him back to Dundee like a crumpled sheet of paper tossed into a bin.

So Ellie feels like his throat’s going to close up when Kiko replies down the intercom. “Yeah, two secs. I’ll buzz you up.”

The dread settles in his gut like a weight as the buzzer rings out into the street, harsh and loud and doing nothing for Ellie’s derailed train of thought. He pushes on the door, takes his first step into the close and the echo seems to hit him deep in his chest. He finds himself wishing Lawrence lives four up but he’s only on the first floor, and as Ellie puts his foot on the first step of the staircase he keeps his eyes trained on the stairs because he knows the moment he looks up he’s going to see somebody standing there holding the door open and even though he’s had hours to prepare himself, weeks even, he’s not ready for that in the slightest.

And when he finally brings his gaze onto the front door with four steps to go, he’s not ready for the way the sight of Lawrence almost knocks him straight back down again. He’s slumped against the doorframe and has very clearly not slept- since when, Ellie couldn’t guess. A black hoodie is swamping him and a pair of navy sweatpants are doing the same, making him seem smaller than he already is. The sight of his hair up in that tiny bun hurts Ellie’s heart because it makes him want to smile, reminds him of the Lawrence he’d dick about in the workroom and the smoking area and the hotel corridors with before it all went so wrong. His arms are folded and he’s looking at the tiles on the landing floor until Ellie reaches the doorway, shifts awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Lawrence doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It’s a minute detail that hurts Ellie more than he would have expected. He doesn’t reply for a second, then seems to relent. “Hey.”

Another pause. The atmosphere makes Ellie wish he’d worn a thicker jacket.

“You’re not meant to be here, you know. Wee Nicky’s probably had snipers trained on you since you got off the train,” Lawrence says, delivering the quip with a bitter, barbed edge that makes Ellie think it’s less of a joke and more wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t be any less than I deserve, I’m sure,” Ellie smiles sadly, unable to make it meet his eyes. Lawrence’s expression remains unimpressed.

“So why are you here, then,” he not so much as demands an answer but disinterestedly inquires. Ellie bites his bottom lip before he replies, as if he’s forcing himself to make sure his words are perfect.

“I just came down because…well, I wanted to see how you were. I know the past week must have been shit for you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide as if to really drive home to Ellie how much of an understatement he already knows he’s made. “Yeah.”

Ellie sighs, wanting desperately to get the next part right. “And I felt like I needed to say I’m sorry. Y’know, in front of you.”

“You said sorry back when we filmed. We’re over it, it’s fine,” Lawrence says flatly, conveying that everything is not fine.

“It’s not fine, though. I wouldn’t have come down if it was fine. Things haven’t been fine since that day, and like…I miss you, Lawrence, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or as a sister, or as…” Ellie stumbles, looking to the floor as he tries to articulate the other facet of their relationship. “…whatever else we are. Whatever else we were. I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”

There’s a silence in which the pair of them freeze and hold their breath. Time could very well be standing still for all Ellie knows. He immediately regrets bringing up all of…that. He should’ve kept it to friendship, shouldn’t have added anything on. Before he can overthink any more or begin to backtrack, a small sigh from Lawrence makes him look up.

“I thought you hated me,” he says. His voice is small and the words are unexpected. There’s so much Ellie could say in response. He settles on a joke.

“No, I think you’re a cunt. There’s a difference,” Ellie smiles tightly, the joke tentative. The snort it gets from Lawrence makes his smile grow without him being able to help it. “Was that a good one? Thought I was the unfunniest person on the planet?”

“We weren’t talking about your Bake Off improv,” Lawrence raises his eyebrows as he smirks, and Ellie fakes a wounded laugh.

“Shady cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence says out of nowhere, his smile gone all of a sudden.

Ellie tries to drag the joke out a little longer, hold onto the sparks they’ve just created. “Nah, it was shit, you’re right.”

“No, Ellie…” Lawrence shakes his head, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. “I am sorry.”

Ellie feels the panic wash over him when he clocks the glisten in his eyes. “It’s fine, girl.”

“It’s not fine. I was a dick to you so many times, no fuckin’ wonder I thought you’d set me up. I would too if I had somebody talking down to me like I did to you,” Lawrence says gravely. His gaze is fixed on his floor and just as Ellie is about to speak he catches sight of two tears that fall onto the red carpet, the darkness akin to blood. His horror grows as Lawrence finally snaps his head up, tears shining in his eyes as he sighs helplessly in a shaky voice. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you’re such a talent, and…fuck, I missed you.”

His words mean more to him that Ellie had expected them to. He doesn’t want to let that show, though, because that’s too much, that means too much for the situation just now and he can deal with that realisation at a later date. For now, Ellie points at him in mock-accusation. “Hey listen, I’m the one that got the train down to come and make a big speech to you and say sorry. Buy your own damn train ticket for that.”

Lawrence’s voice is thick with tears as he lets out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“Wee bitch. Always have to make everything about you,” Ellie rolls his eyes, getting another teary laugh out of Lawrence and raising his hopes that maybe they’ll be okay.

And then the banks break and Lawrence makes a little choked-up noise, a sob that’s not fully a sob. His eyes meet Ellie’s and they’re full of so much sadness and regret that just looking at them creates a crack in Ellie’s heart, one that matches the crack in Lawrence’s voice as he speaks again.

“This has all been shit to do without you.”

Ellie doesn’t think before opening his arms out, shaking his head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. C’mere.”

When Lawrence immediately opens out his own and they meet each other in the middle and hug tightly, Ellie feels like a balloon that’s been let go and is floating up to the sky.

The clouds aren’t grey.

The way they’re holding each other brings back too many memories. Seeing each other at gigs and feeling butterflies take hold of his stomach. Coming off stage after a number and conveying his pride in him without even having to say a word. Saying goodbye at train stations with disappointment lodging itself in his heart. All the nostalgia makes Ellie want to cry, but he can’t start now. Instead, he breaths a shaky sigh, shakes his head before he speaks.

“You’ve always had me, okay? You’ve always got me. We’ve said sorry now, that’s the end of it. Periodt,” Ellie murmurs against his shoulder, adding on his trademark at the end. The laugh he gets muffled against his chest in return makes him feel lighter.

“I’ve not showered. I definitely stink. You don’t have to keep hugging me, you know.”

“You don’t. I want to,” Ellie says back. He means it.

It’s Lawrence that slides out of the hug first but he’s still standing close as he quickly wipes away his tears, looks Ellie up and down with a smirk on his face. “So where’s your Travelodge, hen?”

Ellie’s sheepish when he makes eye contact with him again, shrugs one strap of the rucksack off before replying. “You know damn well I’ve not booked anywhere.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Right, come on,” Lawrence shakes his head affectionately, stepping back into his hallway and letting Ellie finally cross the threshold to drop his bag like an anchor in the flat. It’s the physical manifestation of the burden finally being lifted off of him, the guilt and the regret melting away in favour of the flutter of his heart and a few small sparks that he wants to put in resin. “I get to choose the film later as reparations. Don’t trust you since you made us watch Cat In The Hat.”

Ellie gives a shocked gasp, genuinely offended. “It’s good!”

“Is it fuck. In fact, just for that I’m going to make you sit through something sci-fi and geeky and you’re gonna hate it,” Lawrence smiles with genuine glee, and Ellie can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. As the pair of them walk through to the living room, Lawrence jumps onto the sofa and fixes Ellie with a look that is clearly meant to be serious but that simultaneously Lawrence can’t commit to and Ellie can’t believe. “You’re sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

Ellie raises his eyebrows as he fakes his agreement, going along with the charade Lawrence is beginning. They both know they’ll end up curled up together on the sofa with neither of them having an explanation for how it’s happened, but at the same time knowing they don’t have to explain themselves. They know that Ellie will end up falling asleep slumped against Lawrence and that he’ll have to gently shake him awake, that he’ll wordlessly offer Ellie a hand to drag him off the couch with and that they’ll go through to Lawrence’s room like always. They know that they’ll wake up tangled together like the sheets and that Ellie will be there for him, that he’ll help Lawrence piece himself back together and they’ll go back to the start. Well, maybe not the start. Perhaps somewhere better.

Ellie keeps his friends close, but Lawrence is something a little bit more. Something a little bit closer.

Baby, you’re my enemy.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #a'whora #uk2 #canon compliant #angst #hurt/comfort #song fic #maybe you're my enemy #ortega

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taetaespeaches · 5 years

Text

“I never thought I’d be taking a dress off you.”

jungkook x reader genre: smut; fluff; slight crack? word count: 2.4K

a/n: Here’s a little Halloween (sort of) piece that was meant to be straight fluff and then turned into this. There’s Titanic themed costumes, flashbacks to cherry Guk, and some brief sex against a refrigerator. There’s also mention of a previous fic I wrote where the reader teases Guk by pretending not to notice his freshly dyed red hair, which can be found right here. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading :))

JUNGKOOK stood at the kitchen counter, still dressed in his Titanic-themed Halloween costume, staring down the jack-o-lanterns you both carved the night before.

It was his first time carving a pumpkin, which you kindly told him through a series of innuendos that you’d “walk him through it”, ensuring his “first time” would be “special”. You had also told him that it would be a fairly simple task.

“I mean, kids do this shit, so just keep that in mind,” you told him the night before just before you began working on your pumpkins, Jungkook nodding at the assurance. Then you added a teasing, “So if you fuck up, remember, children literally do this.” You recalled the way Jungkook glared at you, fighting the smirk that toyed on his lips.

Despite your teasing, he managed to make a perfect pumpkin, skillfully cutting out an outline of the Evil Dead’s Ash, holding his iconic chainsaw, the word “groovy” carved next to the outline. Next to his pumpkin sat your more traditional one, a classic mean looking jack-o-lantern, looking very unimpressive next to your golden boyfriend’s.

As you entered the kitchen, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, having changed out of your own Titanic costume, in which you were literally the ship, Titanic, you caught Jungkook staring at the pumpkins. “Would you quit eye fucking your pumpkin, please,” you said, annoyance showing.

“Hey, I was actually looking at yours,” he countered. “I know you said kids make these things, but I didn’t think you were going to give me an example of how they do it,” he smirked, holding back his own amusement.

“And to think I was just gonna tell you what a hot Rose you make,” you shook your head, feigning disappointment, allowing your eyes to drag up and down his dress covered body before latching onto the red wig atop his head.

You see, the vocal line and you decided to wear group costumes, you and Taehyung coming up with the idea to dress up as the Titanic. To put a playful twist on it, you had Jungkook dress in a gown and a red wig to fit the role of Rose, while Jimin dressed up as Jack. You and Taehyung shared the ship costume, both hauling around cardboard halves of the ship that hung from your shoulders. Jin dressed as the iceberg.

Jungkook giggled at your comment, moving towards the pumpkins, yielding a lighter.

“I like your hair,” you told him.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder at you, smirking slightly as he sang out the famous Ariana Grande lyrics, “Gee thanks, just bought it,” with little hip movements and a giggle slipping from his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards him as he turned back to the pumpkins, lighting the candles inside of them, illuminating the dimly lit kitchen in an orange glow. Setting your hand on his shoulder, you leaned towards him, your chest brushing against his shoulder blades as you whispered against his ear, “You’re giving me cherry Guk flashbacks.”

With your touch, the tone of which you spoke the words, and his own flashbacks to how sexy you found his red dyed hair, he noticeably leaned back into you. Some of the most carnal moments between you both was when he had his bright reddish pink hair. When you first saw the freshly dyed locks months back, and after you teased him by pretending you didn’t notice the drastic change to his hair color, he fucked you on this very kitchen counter you were currently stood next to. The memory and the way your chest was purposely pressed against his back had blood rushing down his body.

Turning around to face you, you reached for a strand of curly red hair that hung off his shoulder, twirling it around your pointer finger. Not being able to resist the urge to tease him- you never could- you smirked. “Joon sure did look good tonight,” you said simply, your eyes leaving the strand of fake hair to meet his eyes, just in time to see them form into a glare.

“He was literally dressed as me,” Jungkook informed you, annoyance lacing his tone, you shrugging in response.

While the vocal line, plus you, all dressed as Titanic, the rap line all dressed as the maknae line, sporting looks straight from the Idol music video- Yoongi dressing as Tae, Hoseok as Jimin, and Namjoon as Jungkook. Yoongi and Joon even went as far as wearing a half and half pink and blonde wig, and a red wig, respectively.

“I’m just saying, he looked good as cherry Guk.” You smirked as Jungkook reached out to grab onto your hips tightly.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He held back a smile. “Always such a brat.”

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s lips were on your own, his body flush against yours as he shoved your backside against the counter. As your hands grabbed onto his shoulders and you allowed him to deepen the kiss, he swiftly lifted you up onto the counter, easily settling is body between the v of your legs.

Jungkook’s hands roamed from your hips, down to your thigh crease, his thumbs slipping under the hem of your shorts to massage the sensitive area on your legs. He began trailing kisses down to your jaw, traveling to your neck, you extending and angling it in response to him. One of his hands dragged up the side of your body as his lips left kisses along your neck and jaw until he met your earlobe.

His hand gripped the flesh overtop your ribcage just below your boob as he whispered, “Is it weird that I was a little jealous of you being a ship with Tae?” He asked, his tone raspy.

Speaking into the silence of the kitchen, you said, “Maybe, but I was a little jealous of Jimin being the Jack to your Rose,” you smirked. “Next year you should be Rose again. I’ll be the hunk of wood that they both could have obviously fit on,” you joked and slightly ranted.

Jungkook giggled against your neck as you threaded your fingers into his hair, only for them to get tangled in the hair of his wig. Jungkook pulled back to look at you with hooded eyes, meeting your amused ones just as you burst into a fit of giggles.

“I can’t take you fucking serious right now, dude, oh my god,” you said through your laughter, causing Jungkook to throw his head back in a loud cackle, remembering what he was dressed in. His arms moved to wrap around your waist as he stepped closer to you to hug you tightly, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he giggled against you. “Take this thing off,” you chuckled, pulling the wig off his head and tossing it across the kitchen to land somewhere, abandoned on the tiled floor.

While one hand slipped to the back of his messy head of hair, your other hand slid down his body, your fingers dragging over the material of the dress until they hovered just above his bulge. The presence of your hand drew him to look up from your shoulder, his lustful eyes locking with yours as you slowly began to gather the clothing with your fingers, inch by inch, lifting the dress higher and higher.

“I never thought I’d be taking a dress off you,” you told him with a smile.

An amused grin overtook Jungkook’s face as he let out a single breathy chuckle. “Does it do it for you?” He joked back, leaning towards you to kiss you softly.

“Mm, it’s sexy,” you spoke against his lips. When your fingertips felt the hem of the dress, signaling his lower half was no longer covered, you easily slid your hand underneath he waistband of his boxer briefs. Your breath became heavier, though you attempted to appear calm as your fingers brushed over his length, your palm flat against his pubic area.

Jungkook shivered at the teasing touch, his hand grabbing the back of your head as he kissed you roughly. Pulling away slightly, he nipped at your bottom lip, groaning as you continued to taunt him with the tips of your fingers.

“Baby,” he whined in a whisper.

At the sound of his desperate voice, you slid your hand further down, wrapping your hand around him. “What do you want, Kookie?” You teased.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he smirked with a breathy scoff. “Baby, come on,” he urged.

Kissing his nose sweetly, you smiled innocently. “What? You know I’m yours,” you told him, watching the amusement swirl around his hooded eyes.

That was all he needed to take complete control of the situation, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. He swiftly tugged your shorts and panties off the curve of your ass, sliding them down your legs, the clothing pooling in a pile below you both. Jungkook kicked the items across the kitchen carelessly.

You helped shove his underwear off, Jungkook pushing them the rest of the way down. As soon as they were off, he was lining himself up with you.

“Come here,” he smiled, you sitting up straighter to lean towards him, sporting a smile of your own. Jungkook connected his mouth with yours in a slow kiss as he eased himself inside you, your mouth opening against his at the feeling of his length.

As his thrusts picked up both power and speed, you threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, gasping at the way Jungkook slammed into you.

Looking back to him, you gave him a lazy smile, Jungkook returning it. Your eyes ran down his body, a small giggle slipping out just as a moan cut it off.

Reaching for the sides of his dress, you lifted it over his head, struggling over his broad shoulders. Jungkook lost his rhythm as his face got caught in the dress, a cute giggle sounding from beneath the clothing, a complete contrasting to the way he had just been fucking you.

Weak from laughter at the scene in front of you- your boyfriend trying to continue the movement of his hips despite losing his vision, most of his access to oxygen, and childlike giggles coming from him- you gave the dress another harsh tug, releasing Jungkook’s head from it, completely exposing the entirety of his built body. The wide smile on his face, his eyes crinkled, sent an overwhelming rush of adoration through you.

Tossing the dress to the side, you wrapped your arms around the back of Jungkook’s head, kissing him passionately, messy with laughter, the emotion attached to the kiss surprising Jungkook, making him halt his movements for a moment.

“Fuck, I love you,” you confessed against his lips, kissing him again. Jungkook’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs near your ass, easily lifting you off the counter, bouncing your body up just a bit to adjust his hands so they were holding the backs of your thighs, holding you to him.

“I love you so much,” he replied with labored breath, breaking up the kiss just long enough to speak the words. The way you moaned into his mouth had him eagerly ramming your body against the refrigerator door, the contents inside the door clanking against each other as he continued to move his hips, in and out of you.

The pleasure increasing, you arched your back, breaking the kiss as you tilted your head back to rest against the fridge. Jungkook’s mouth easily attached to your chest, sucking and nibbling. You shifted your body to help him reach your breast, your bare hip making contact with the refrigerator’s touch screen, all sorts of beeps and dings sounding as your body accidentally pressed buttons.

As Jungkook went deeper, your ass flattened against the screen, the ice maker suddenly starting up, sending ice pouring out, knocking into your and Jungkook’s legs before breaking on contact with the floor.

Jungkook laughed against your chest, you giggling against his forehead as he carried you across the kitchen to the dining room table.

Flashing him a lazy smile, you placed your hand at the back of his head, tugging on his hair as his hands found your waist, giving you a light teasing squeeze. His lips found yours easily as his hips rocked into you harder, you both finding yourselves teetering on the edge.

Wrapping one arm around the back of Jungkook’s neck, your other arm extended behind you, supporting you against the table, he nuzzled his face into your neck. Jungkook hugged his arms around your waist, holding you close to him, his hips moving faster and harder. Small moans sounded against your shoulder as a series of kisses were left to the spot.

Burying the side of your face into his hair, you gasped, mumbling a mixture of oh my god’s and fuck’s. When Jungkook’s right arm left your waist, his fingers finding your clit as he kissed and sucked on your neck, you knew he was reaching his high.

He continued to thrust into you, despite the oversensitivity he was beginning to feel. You laid back, resting on your elbows, giving your boyfriend more access to your clit as he continued bringing you to your finish.

Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you saw the fucked out determination set in his features. Soon, you were pushed over the edge, tossing your head back as you took in a sharp inhale, the exhale coming out in a soft moan before your breathing became quick and jagged.

After the feeling washed through you, you looked back towards your boyfriend who was staring down at you with a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes that told you he was planning to make a smartass comment. You knew the look all too well.

Raising your eyebrows in expectancy, you bit back a grin when his smirk curved into a stunning smile.

“I can’t believe you made me take off my wig,” he giggled at himself, making you snort in surprise of his silly comment.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, sitting up so you could shove at his chest.

“I was really trying to fulfill your cherry Guk desires,” he continued, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his warm toned body.

Wrapping your own arms around his naked waist, you slid a hand down his lower back to the curve of his ass, leaving a smack to the skin, making him chuckle into your hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you told him through a giggle. When Jungkook sweetly kissed the top of your head, you left one in return to his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

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windermeresimblr · 4 years

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Historical Paper Dolls: The Sun King’s Court

Last week, we discussed ruffs. Today, we’re staying in the 1600s, but focusing on a fairly specific niche: the fashions of Versailles between the 1660s and the 1690s. I was inspired to do this by @rennylurant‘s and my discussion of the “Versailles” series.

Alun and Alasdair and Joyeuse and Guiomar are all sharing center stage today. I simply couldn’t resist getting them all dressed up and making them go on a walk to see and be seen. I originally wanted them to promenade in a “Hall of Mirrors” set, but I couldn’t figure out how to get the pictures to not show the sky instead of the second story, so we have our trusty backdrop instead.

Men’s Fashion

Louis XIV mandated that all men who appeared at Versailles were to wear a long coat, a vest or waistcoat, a cravat, and knee breeches. This ensemble also required a hat for wearing outdoors. Charles II copied these fashion edicts upon his restoration to the throne in the 1660s. Don Draper’s work wardrobe and the trope of the “man in the grey flannel suit” are directly traced back from this style.

The waistcoat often reached to the jacket hem or just above it, buttoning up the front similarly to the modern version. (Earlier in the period, it had been rather shorter.) It was a canvas for embroidery, and could be made of contrasting fabric to add to the opulence of the look. The back of the waistcoat often remained plain, as it was not often seen when the justaucorps was worn; there are some instances of waistcoats having sleeves for winter wear. (Of course, you can then say that it is no longer a vest, and is instead a short coat--but that’s what the early form of the waistcoat was!)

The cravat is the ancestor of the modern necktie. Usually made of lace or fine linen, it was wound around the neck before allowing the ends to fall loose in front. There was a fashion in the 1660s for a ribbon to be tied around the cravat, which Alun is sporting once he’s fully dressed. The ribbons around the cravat were usually red, although other colors such as blue were not unheard of. This fashion trend continued, with the ribbons increasing in size and amount, until the 1690s. Then the cravat was worn without such decoration.

Knee breeches had been fuller (and/or shorter) prior to the 1660s, but with the popularity of the long-line justaucorps and waistcoat, slimmer and longer styles became more fashionable. Breeches were often made in the same fabric as the coat. They could be tied with ribbons or buttoned shut.

Because the new style was meant to emphasize the new-found peace after the turbulent early part of the 1600s, boots were gradually eschewed in favor of shoes. They were usually square toed and decorated with ribbons and bows and shoe-roses (essentially a pompom); there was a trend in the 1680s for red heels on one’s shoes. The heel, of course, became rather high, in order to emphasize the shapeliness of one’s calves, which were shown off by the slim knee breeches.

The long jacket was also known as a justaucorps, and would remain in fashion (with a great deal of change in how it looked) until the 1800s. The sleeve length varied from above to below the elbow, allowing the wearer’s shirt to poke through at the ends. Whether it had deep cuffs or shallow, broad lapels or none, and closed in the front or was worn open, the jacket was longer and more loosely cut than in previous decades. By the 1680s, it reached almost to the knee and remained full through the waist.

Men wore their hair long, often to mid-back. While some people kept their hair mostly straight, especially in Spain, loose curls or waves were favored. Louis XIV, who had gone bald at an early age, started a wig mania that didn’t die down until the late 18th century. He wanted something that would mimic his natural hair, only, of course, thicker and superior in almost every respect. The men of Versailles soon copied him. This early wig mimicked the wearer’s natural hair color, was not tied back in any way, and was styled with a rather severe and exaggerated center part.

A variety of hats were worn. The most common was a hat with a wide brim and a moderate crown, often decorated with feathers; your classic “Musketeer” hat. One side of the brim was often turned up; this turned into a brim-turning craze, resulting in the tricorne.

Women’s Fashion

From the 1660s to the 1670s, the trend in women’s fashion was a broad or off-the-shoulder neckline with full, elbow-length sleeves, a tightly corseted body, and a full skirt. While the gowns shown in portraits may look like a one-piece garment, the trend was actually for a separate bodice and petticoat, which usually were the same color and material. The bodice was attached to the skirt with tabs, which eventually transformed into less obvious hook-and-eye closures. (Terribly fiddly, of course, and essentially defeating the purpose of separates.)

The neckline became quite low in some cases, especially for portraits. In some cases, the breasts were totally exposed; more commonly, a good deal of the breast was shown, pushed up and accentuated by the tight corsetry of the period. It was a look very suited to the deceptively casual, libertine atmospheres of Charles II’s and Louis XIV’s courts. It was of course was frowned upon by the moralists, and was not terribly practical for those who needed to do anything more strenuous than embroider.

Throughout the period, pearl earrings and necklaces were very popular. The earrings often featured very large, teardrop-shaped pearls; the necklaces were made of the ordinary round, moderately sized pearls. Necklaces were worn very tight and very high, at the base of the throat. This was a look that would continue through the eighteenth century. Pendants were not as popular as they had been in previous years, but were still worn. Gemstones were also still very popular, as Joyeuse shows; I liked the contrast of the sapphires and her pink (salmon?) dress, and took a lot of inspiration from an image of Madame de Montespan I’ve linked in the credits.

Women generally did not openly wear wigs in this period; instead, they wore their natural hair (or someone else’s, if they had the misfortune to go bald). In the 1660s and 70s, the fashion was for curls at the front with buns in the back.

Here’s the fashion trend of the 1680 and 90s, the mantua. The mantua actually began as an “undress” dress, or casual wear; it was meant to showcase elaborate and exotic patterned fabric from overseas. It started as a fairly simple shoulder-to-floor open-fronted overdress (dolman-style sleeves, no fancy seam work, etc.) with a long train However, it soon evolved into the pleated, pinned, and looped style we see showcased here.

Although this was worn over the wearer’s shift, stays and petticoat, with only a stomacher (a decorative modesty panel pinned to the stays) and a coordinating outer petticoat keeping the underwear from becoming outerwear, the high neckline and longer sleeves were more modest than the somewhat revealing off-the-shoulder look previously popular.

In the 1680s and 90s, the hair was piled up at the front of the head and dressed with the towering mass of wire and ribbons known as the fontange. The fontange was inspired by one of Louis XIV’s “petit maitresses” doing up her hair in a pinch with a ribbon, and gradually mushroomed out of proportion into something involving starch, wire, and a serious amount of hat pins. This is a mere shadow of its extravagance.

Credits

Alasdair

Alun

Guiomar, 1660-79

Hair by @aikea-guinea and Sussi | Earrings by Ladesire | Necklace by Vitasims | Bodice and Skirt by EA

Guiomar, 1680-99

Hair by Chazzybazzy and Toksik | Earrings by Ladesire | Necklace by Vitasims | Fontange by Traelia | Mantua by GlorinosaVG

Joyeuse, 1660-79

Hair by Chazzybazzy and Applekisssims | Jewelry by Tankuz | Bodice and Skirt by EA

Joyeuse, 1680-99

Hair by EA | Fontange by Traelia | Earrings by Ladesire | Necklace by Vitasims | Mantua by GlorinosaVG

Poses

Walking Couple poses by Lenina90

A few necessary side notes:

Image 2: The breeches are not quite correct for the period, nor are the lapels. The shoes are also a little anachronistic. However, they look nice.

Image 6: The severe line of the corset in this period is not a look easily achievable with sliders without distorting the clothes, unfortunately. See this wax figure of Madame de Montespan for an idea of how this looked in real life. It’s not really a look for the faint-hearted or prim-and-proper types.

Image 8: I honestly don’t know what’s going on with Guiomar’s hair. It’s not spaniel curls, it’s not really a bun, but she can almost pull it off.

Image 9: Neither of these are very close to a proper mantua, but I have yet to find a mesh I really love, or one that I can convert without it being a problem.

I’m still really pleased how much of this could be done using EA meshes. I also think I will permanently move these to Saturdays.

#historical paper dolls series #sims 3 historical #sims 3 baroque #sims 3 lookbook #sims 3 content list #sims historical #sims baroque #sims lookbook #sims content list

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beauty-by-tyy · 2 years

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18” Human Hair Body Wave Wig Unboxing & Review (ft. The RXY Store of Amazon)

In this video I will be unboxing and reviewing a Body Wave unit that was sent to me from the Rxy Store of Amazon.

If you want to see this review and hear my thoughts on this unit checkout my video.

PLEASE CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THESE VIDEOS: 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

18” Human Hair Body Wave Wig Unboxing & Review (ft. The RXY Store of Amazon): https://youtu.be/pta5uoiQUus

10” Straight Bob Human Hair Wig (ft. Miaorun Storeof Amazon) Unboxing & Review: https://youtu.be/Kjxp2kFvILo

Products used for this video:

Featured Brands:

Brand: The RXY Store of Amazon

Material: 100% Human Hair

Texture: Body Wave

Hair Color: Natural Color Suitable for Dyeing

13” x 4” HD Transparent Lace Front Wig

Length: 18”

Nails:

Essie Nail Lacquer Shade: Blanc

Sally Hansen Salon Miracle Gel Top Coat

Beauty 360 Resurface Base Coat

Makeup:

Face

@Elfcosmetics Poreless Face Primer Shade: Clear

Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Setting Powder Shade: Hazelnut

Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Setting Powder Shade: Cashew

Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Foundation Shade: 390

MAC Cosmetics Pro Longwear Paint Pot Shade: Painterly

Fenty Beauty Sun Stalk’r Bronzer Shade: Mocha Mami

Milani Eye Pencil Shade: True Black

ELF Cosmetics 16hr Camo Concealer Shade: Rich Ebony

ELF Cosmetics 16hr Camo Concealer Shade: Deep Carmel

MAC Cosmetics Studio Finish Concealer Shade: NW45

Measurable Difference Blush Shade: Rose

ELF Cosmetics Poreless Putty Primer

Maybelline Master Chrome Metallic Highlighter Shade: 100 Molten Gold

Eyes

Fenty Beauty Sun Stalk’r Bronzer Shade: Mocha Mami

MAC Cosmetics Single eyeshadow Shade: Nehru

MAC Cosmetics Reflects Glitter Shade: Reflects transparent pink

Urban Decay Naked Basics Shade: Crave

Ioni 3D Faux Mink Lashes 100% Hand Made Style: Wispy Natural Flare

@Lagirlcosmetics HD Pro.conceal Shade: Tawny

ELF Cosmetics Liquid Eyeliner Shade: Jet Black

Chanel Calligraphies De Chanel Longwear Intense Cream Eyeliner Shade: 65 Hyperblack

Cheeks

@MeasurableDifference Baked Face Blush Shade: Rose

Lips

Milani Lipstick Shade: 16 Fiery Fuchsia

LIKE & SUBSCRIBE on YouTube

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god-save-the-keen · 4 years

Text

Movie night

Part 2

Summary: Part 2 of this fic.

Words: 2.693

Warning: fluff / smut / NSFW / 🍋

Permanent tagg list: @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @desireepow-1986 @dawn-1994 @violinet @darley1101 @blackcatkita @flyawayboo @drakewalker04 @simplymissjulia @luckyferrero

Adrian Raines x MC tagg list: @senator-adrian-raines-wifey @alesana45 @choicesfannatalie @mattrodriguezmylife @bigmemesplz @perriewinklenerdie @x-kyne-x @livingpurpose @adriansbiss @badgoodfishes @amyraineshessa @queencordonia @bloodboundismylife @theitcaramelchick @bloodboundhoe @choices-addict-25 @lexilooloolovessenatorraines

Amy was sitting on the couch in Adrian's office at Raines Corp, her legs stretched with the laptop on her thighs and her eyes fixed on the screen, concentrating on reading something. A soft smile lifted his lips as he observed her from the edge of his own screen, his gaze roamed her legs and body until stopping at her face, staying there for a long time.

"If you are going to look at me like that, you could come here and kiss me." She suddenly said with a mischievous smile, raising her eyes at him. He stood up, shaking his head with a soft laugh, and walked to the couch, grinning all the way. "Hi." Amy smiled taking his tie, pulling him closer as he lowered his face towards hers until their lips were pressed together, sweetly and slowly kissing each other.

"Do you have plans for this weekend?" He asked as she folded her legs so he could sit beside her.

"Not really. What's on your mind?" His arm on her shoulders, a curious look on his face.

"I have a surprise for you. And you need a new '20s dress." He winked at her, as she bit down on her bottom lip still smiling, hoping that what she was imagining was correct. She opened google and started to search for the perfect dress.

"Amy, love, are you ready?" Adrian asked from the living room as he put his hat on. He was wearing a dark blue suit, suspenders under the jacket with big lapels, white shirt, black tie, spats, a silver pocket watch and his curls pulled back with hair gel.

"Almost!" She responded as a deja vu sensation invaded him, he wasn't sure if it was in a good or bad way but she was worth it. "Oh my god, look at you! You look even more handsome than in the movie!" Adrian turned and his jaw fell. Amy was always beautiful, inside out, but tonight, she was incredibly gorgeous. She was wearing a soft rose gold, sleeveless dress embroidered with silver, light gold and light pink sequins, silk fringe, red lips, a short blonde wig, a pearl and rhinestones headband and a small bag hanging from her wrist. She twirled for him. "What do you think?"

"I think you are the most beautiful woman in the whole world and that everybody is going to try to steal you from me." He took her waist with one hand as she smiled big at him. "And that I don't know what I did to deserve having you beside me."

"Oh, you know, just being your amazing self." She stood on her tiptoes, even with her heels he was still taller, and kissed him, placing her hands against his firm chest.

"Ready to go?" He asked, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"Ready."

A short ride later, Adrian stopped the car in front of a flower shop called 'Through the Looking Glass' and descended, taking Amy's hand as he headed to the entrance.

"A flower shop? This late?" She asked as he smiled without saying anything. The place was big, a huge round table overflowing with bouquets filled the space with a strong, sweet flower smell. The ambience was fresh and clean and an enormous fridge with roses, orchids and other exotic plants occupied one of the background walls. A young woman with an apron approached them as Amy looked around a little annoyed that Adrian wasn't telling her why they were there.

"Good evening, welcome to 'Through the looking Glass', how can I serve you?"

"I heard the roses turn black and the orchids red this year." Adrian grinned, eyeing Amy's confused face.

"That's right sir. How many would you like?"

"19 and 25 please." The woman smiled and started to walk to the back as a satisfied Adrian followed her and an even more perplexed Amy walked beside him.

"Enjoy your evening." She said, pressing a button under a painting on the wall and the fridge opened to the side. Adrian heard her surprised gasp as he led her in, a contrasting heat wave hit their faces and the alcohol smell, mostly scotch, filled their lungs, overwhelming them until their senses got used to it.

"Since when is this here?" She shouted to make herself heard over the vibrant jazz that a band was playing in the background.

"Since 1925."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. I was at the opening night." He looked at her, loving every instant of her reaction, she was smiling, bopping her head with the rhythm of the music and her cheeks flushed, looking radiant. "At first, it was a clandestine bar during prohibition after that it was exclusive to vampires and now, everybody can enjoy it." A mischievous smile was on his lips. "Anyone who can find it and knows the password at least."

"It's like a time machine."

"It is. But now it has a major improvement." She looked questionably at him as he kissed her knuckles. "You are here."

"You can be so cheesy sometimes." She smirked holding his neck.

"But, however, you are smiling." His hand gripped her cheek as the other held the small of her back, lowering his head towards hers, kissing her for a long time. "Drink?"

"Yes, please!" They headed to the little tables at the side of the dance floor, Adrian noticed how everyone watched Amy, feeling a pang of jealousy inside him, until her lips brushed his cheek, ignoring everybody except him. "This place is amazing! Thanks for bringing me and spoiling me by wearing these kind of clothes."

"Anything for you, love." In just a minute, they were enjoying their cocktails, chatting and laughing. Amy had her legs crossed, her feet tapping to the music's rhythm.

"Do you want to dance, doll?" Adrian asked, standing up as her face lit up.

"Lead the way, baby." She giggled taking his hand. "Did you used to dance the Charleston?"

"I actually did back in the day."

"Can you teach me?" He led her to the center of the dance floor, finding an empty space perfect for them. "It's so weird to imagine you doing something like that."

"I have lived almost three hundred years so far, love." He stood in front of her, ready to teach her the basics. "I have tried many things."

"I know. And I love your playful side."

"Good." He made her twirled, her laughter more beautiful than any song the band could play for him. "Cause I adore your smile." He pulled her towards his chest before taking a step back, holding her hand. "First, your hand has to be on my shoulder, like this." He gently placed her palm on top of his shoulder as the other held her free one. "I will make one step forward with my right leg and you do one backwards, then the same but with my left one." He moved forward as she followed his suit, watching their feet. "Now, you go forward and I go back, until we return to the initial position… Perfect."

"This is way harder than it looks." Her steps were clumsy and unsure as her feet continued moving, she was looking at the floor, overthinking her moves.

Adrian lowered his hand, touching her back, until reaching her hip, taking hold of it. "Try to hurry your pace and move your hips with the music as you look at me, kitten."

"Ohh, '20s slang, I love them." She did as he said, gaining confidence and grinning wider. The sensation of her hips moving against his hand and her flushed face, provoked him in a way she only could. A few songs later, he flushed her towards his chest again, passionately kissing her as the other couples kept dancing around them. "I'm pretty sure this isn't part of the dance." She beamed, holding him close, their lips brushing with her words.

"You want me to stop?" His lips taking hers for a moment before placing his mouth on the sensitive part of her jaw.

"Don't you dare." She tilted her head, everything around her disappearing, except him and his touch. He walked her to the nearest pillar until her back met the hard surface, leaning against it.

"You drive me crazy, doll." His voice smooth, as the words slid down on her skin, leaving goosebumps all over her.

"If you continue this and calling me doll or kitten…" She took off his hat, holding it with one hand as the other thread her fingers through his hair, missing the softness of his curls without the gel, pulling it a bit. "... I'm going to rip your clothes off right here and now." Their next kiss was rougher and needy, full of hunger for each other.

"Come on." He took her hand, leading her to a less crowded part until reaching a deserted hallway. She hugged his neck, heatedly kissing him again as he grabbed her hips, making her gasp into the kiss. They stumbled around for a while, going further into the hallway until Adrian forced a door open and they went in.

"Can we be here?" His mouth was on her neck, his fangs slightly scraping her soft skin as a familiar tingling but delightful sensation overwhelmed her.

"Definitely not." The room was filled with a lot of expensive looking bottles, glasses and little wood tables, like some private bar or tasting place. "But I'll pay for everything in here afterwards if it means having you right now."

"I'll take it." She dropped her mini purse and his hat, freeing her hands to push aside his jacket while his mouth, incredibly hot, went down to the edge of the dress' neckline. A couple of her fingers hooked one of the suspenders pulling it and playfully release it, hitting his chest as he groaned. She did it again, on the other side, as his low grunt lit her arousal even more.

"Are we roguish tonight, kitten?" He pressed himself closer, his crotch between her legs and a pleasured sigh emerged from her already swollen lips.

"Says the guy who just broke into private property." He chuckled against her chest, the vibrations of his throaty voice spreading a shiver on her back and goosebumps all over her arms.

"Touche." He took her lips with his again as their tongues played to each other, her hands trying to unbutton his shirt after moving the suspenders and tie away.

"What the hell is wrong with these buttons?" Her finger fumbled for a second as she considered just ripping it off of his body.

"Allow me." He pulled his shirt up, dropping it to the floor as her hands brushed his newly exposed skin, his muscles stiffening in response and his pupils dilating. His mouth crashed against hers again, rough and insistent, her lips parted for him as her hand tugged the hair on his nape. He grabbed her waist while her mouth kissed and nibbled his neck tumbling around, his back hitting a shelf, knocking off at least twelve wine bottles. Her heel kicked a chair and a vase until they finally reached a table. Adrian held her waist and lifted her, sitting her on the wood table with their mouths connected once more. "I have never wanted anything like I want you every single day." He knelt in front of her, his hand caressing one of her legs, slowly going up as she unconsciously spread them wider for him and the dress slid up towards her hips. When his smooth fingers touched her inner thighs, her breath caught in her throat, closing her eyes as his lips rose up in a pleasant smile. His hand continued climbing up followed by his mouth, kissing, licking, sucking, biting as her breath quickened.

"Oh god, that feels so good." He kept going up, his hands hooked the hem of the dress, lifting it so her loins and part of her belly were fully exposed for him. He kissed above her panties a few times, feeling how soaked and excited she was before continuing his way up towards her hips, her flat stomach, her ribcage until she lifted her arms up and he took off the gown, letting it fall on the floor and seizing her mouth again. She took the chance to unfasten his belt and pants, that he eagerly kicked out of the way, the tip of her fingers roaming his firm abs and strong chest as her teeth sensually bit his shoulder. He slipped his hand into her panties, touching her most sensitive zones and going inside her. Her back arched immediately towards him as her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, gripping the edge of the table hard. "Adrian." She purred.

"You look so gorgeous right now, love." His hand moving faster like her pulse, their skin felt on fire, threatening to consume them. A crack came from the table and he noticed with a satisfied smile the fissures under her hands. "Tell me what you want." His fingers continued their movements, arousing her still more, if that was even possible. Her nipples were visible rigid through her thin bra and he licked his lips before taking one with his mouth, gently biting through the fabric, making her gasp loudly.

"I want you, Adrian. All of you. Now." He started to remove her underwear, brushing her legs as the soft fabric left her skin, bearing her for him, her eyes focused on his moves, hungrily watching him as her teeth impatiently nibbled her lip. He pushed down his own underwear torturously unhurried before taking her mouth with his. He thrust himself slowly and deeply inside her, filling every inch of her, her lips parted releasing a gratified moan as the table cracked under her grip once more. Her hands touched his shoulders going to his back while he held her hips, flushing her closer as the pace between them increased. "Fuck!"

He moved faster and deeper, hitting her most sensitive spot almost immediately, her moans intensified and so did his groans.

"It's incredible--" He cut himself off when her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. "--How good you feel." Her nails sank in his skin hard enough to make him grunt, feeling a few drops of blood falling down. He planted his hand on the table, bracing himself as their tempo quickened even more, becoming rough and deep with every shove.

"Adrian!" She cried out as he felt her walls closing around him, getting close to her highest point, holding him like an anchor.

"I'm here, love." He praised, touching her forehead with his while his hand climbed up from her hip to her waist. She closed her eyes, her hands on the sides of his face, their chests pressed together and their lips just an inches apart.

"I love you." She beamed when she almost reached her climax, her skin so hot that it felt like she could burst in flame in any minute.

"I love you too, Amy." He moved his hand between them and began to rub her clit. In just a few seconds, she was coming down, shivering and repeating his name as his mouth crushed with hers, kissing her moans. He followed her and they both stood there, without separating and panting, his lips softly pecking hers while her hands lovingly stroked his cheeks.

"I was right… It does suit you in the '20s." She murmured and he chuckled a bit, still holding her close. "This place is wild."

"They didn't call it 'The roaring '20s' for nothing, love." They kissed again, softer and calmer, until they heard some passing noise behind the door so she climbed down and they changed into their clothes. He took her hand, lacing their fingers, and went outside. The band was still playing in the background and only a few people were still inside, lazily dancing around.

"Adrian... One last song?" He turned, holding her waist and she looped her arms around his neck, smiling. They danced until the sun was almost out, enjoying and holding each other close.

❣️

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