#Hosting Setup Steps

[srishthi1234]

How to Buy Website Hosting: A Step-by-Step Guide for Beginners

If you’re planning to launch a website, choosing the right web hosting is one of the first and most critical steps. The process can be daunting, especially if you're new to the tech world. But don’t worry! In this guide, I’ll walk you through how to buy website hosting, so you can make an informed decision and get your site live in no time.

What Is Website Hosting?

Before diving into the "how," let’s first address the "what." Website hosting is a service that allows your website to be accessible on the internet. It’s essentially the space where your website’s files, content, and data live. When someone visits your site, their browser communicates with the web host, which then delivers the files to their screen.

Different Types of Website Hosting

When you’re learning how to buy website hosting, it’s important to understand that there are several types of hosting available. Your choice will depend on the needs of your website.

Shared Hosting: This is the most common and budget-friendly option. Multiple websites share the same server, making it ideal for small businesses or blogs. However, it may have slower load times if the server gets too crowded.

VPS Hosting (Virtual Private Server): This type of hosting offers a more private server space, even though you’re still technically sharing the physical server. It’s a great middle ground between shared hosting and more expensive dedicated options.

Dedicated Hosting: If you have a large website with high traffic, dedicated hosting is your best bet. It’s pricier, but you get an entire server to yourself, giving you more control, speed, and security.

Cloud Hosting: This is a newer type of hosting where your website is hosted on a network of servers, ensuring that you’re not reliant on just one. It offers scalability, as you can easily add more resources as your site grows.

Key Factors to Consider When Buying Website Hosting

Now that you know the types of hosting, let’s move on to the factors you should consider when learning how to buy website hosting. Each of these aspects will play a role in determining whether a hosting plan is right for you.

Pricing: Hosting plans can range from a few dollars a month to hundreds. However, more expensive doesn’t always mean better. Make sure to choose a plan that fits your budget but still meets your site’s requirements. Always check for renewal rates, as they can sometimes be higher than the initial cost.

Bandwidth and Storage: These are key considerations. If your site is heavy on media or expects high traffic, you’ll need a plan with more bandwidth and storage. Many basic hosting plans offer unlimited bandwidth, but always read the fine print.

Uptime Guarantee: A host’s uptime guarantee ensures that your site remains live and accessible most of the time. Look for a host with at least a 99.9% uptime guarantee, as downtime can mean lost visitors and revenue.

Customer Support: Reliable customer support is essential, especially if you’re new to hosting. You’ll want 24/7 support, with options for live chat, email, or phone assistance. Some hosts even provide dedicated technical help.

Security Features: Your website’s security is paramount. When buying website hosting, make sure the provider offers robust security features such as SSL certificates, daily backups, and protection from malware and DDoS attacks.

Scalability: If you’re just starting, you might not need a lot of resources. But as your website grows, it’s important to choose a hosting provider that allows you to upgrade easily without much hassle.

Step-by-Step Guide on How to Buy Website Hosting

Now that we’ve covered the basics, let’s go through a step-by-step process of how to buy website hosting.

Identify Your Hosting Needs: Determine what type of website you’re building. Is it a simple blog, an e-commerce site, or a large corporate website? This will help you decide on the type of hosting you need.

Research Hosting Providers: Compare various hosting providers. Some popular options include Bluehost, HostGator, SiteGround, and GoDaddy. Look at their pricing, features, and customer reviews to get a feel for their reliability.

Choose a Plan: Once you’ve narrowed down your provider, select the plan that best suits your needs. Shared hosting is usually fine for small to medium-sized websites, while VPS or dedicated hosting may be needed for larger sites.

Register a Domain (If Needed): Many hosting companies offer a free domain registration for the first year. If you haven’t already purchased a domain, this can be a great way to save money.

Complete the Purchase: After selecting your plan and domain, proceed to checkout. Some hosting providers offer add-ons, like extra security or email services. Decide if you need these before finalizing your purchase.

Set Up Your Hosting: Once you’ve bought your hosting, you’ll receive an email with login details to your hosting dashboard. From here, you can install WordPress or other content management systems (CMS), upload files, and start building your site.

Launch Your Website: After setting everything up, all that’s left is to make your site live! Most hosting providers make this easy by offering one-click installs for WordPress and other popular platforms.

https://prinikacademy.com/how-to-buy-website-hosting/

[hemantverma]

[virtualizationhowto]

5 Tips to Install ESXi on a Mini PC

5 Tips to Install ESXi on a Mini PC @vexpert #homelab #minipc #vmwarecommunities #VMwareESXiInstallationGuide #ESXiOnMiniPCTips #NetworkAdapterCompatibilityForESXi #CustomizingESXiSystemMediaSize #CommunityNetworkDriverForESXi #CustomizingESXiISO

I have been having a lot of fun lately playing around with various Mini PCs in the home lab and finding options for running various hypervisors. I currently run VMware vSphere in the lab environment so installing ESXi on Mini PCs is a natural choice. However, if you are looking to utilize the VMware vSphere hypervisor, ESXi, on mini PC hardware for a micro-server design that is power efficient,…

[cameronsbabydoll]

imagine !reader wanting to go to the movies to see some new animated disney movie that came out, only for rafe to tease her and say smth like “i can’t be seen at some kid movie, i’m a powerful business man”, just for her to come back from the beach the next day with the house decorated as a personal movie theater and rafe in the kitchen making popcorn after he bought !readers fav sour candies

Rafe had been so smug about it the day before.

When you begged him to take you to see the new animated Disney movie, all bright-eyed and excited, he just gave you that condescending little smirk, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t be seen at some kid’s movie. I’m a powerful businessman.” His voice was laced with amusement, teasing you like you were asking him to sit at the kids’ table during a corporate dinner.

You pouted, dramatically crossing your arms. “Fine. I’ll just go by myself.”

Rafe had only chuckled, kissed your forehead, and sent you off with a playful pat on your ass. You didn’t even think twice about it.

But the next day—oh, the next day.

You stepped into the penthouse to find it completely transformed. The living room was pitch dark, blackout curtains drawn, with a makeshift movie theater setup. The TV was queued up with the very same Disney movie you’d gone to see, and plush blankets and pillows were thrown all over the couch. There was even a little ticket stub on the coffee table, hand-written in Rafe’s lazy scrawl: For my VIP princess only.

And then there was Rafe.

In the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, standing over the stove with a serious expression, carefully shaking a pot of fresh popcorn. You could see bags of your favorite sour candies lined up on the counter, along with one of those absurdly large soda cups that only theaters carried.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. “Rafe…”

He barely glanced up, still focused on the popcorn. “Changed my mind. Turns out, powerful businessmen can host private screenings.”

You bit your lip, warmth bubbling in your chest. “So, what? You suddenly had the urge to watch an animated princess movie?”

Rafe smirked, finally looking at you. “Nah. Just had the urge to see my girl happy.”

[goldfades]

a bengal welcome | JOE BURROW⁹ [009]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | bengals meeting hayes for the first time!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but fluff!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you. Hayes was securely strapped into his car seat in the back, his tiny fists waving in the air like he was orchestrating a symphony.

"You sure we’ve got everything?" Joe asked, glancing at you as you double-checked the baby bag for the third time.

"Diapers, wipes, formula, bottles, extra clothes, his favorite blanket," you listed off, zipping the bag shut with a decisive tug. "Yep, I think we’re good. Unless Hayes has something catastrophic planned, but let’s pray he doesn’t."

Joe chuckled under his breath. “He’s my kid. Odds aren’t great.”

You shot him a playful glare, leaning back in your seat. “Well, let’s hope he takes after me in the ‘not causing chaos’ department.”

The spring sun streamed through the windows, the light dancing over Joe’s profile. He wore a casual hoodie and a cap pulled low, but the little flickers of excitement in his eyes gave him away. Despite his laid-back demeanor, you knew he was looking forward to this.

It wasn’t just any gathering—it was the first time Joe’s teammates would be meeting Hayes, and Ja’Marr had insisted on hosting a little welcome-baby party at his place. You could already picture the chaos waiting for you there, with half the Bengals ready to turn a simple gathering into an impromptu celebration.

“I bet Ja’Marr has some wild decorations,” you said, watching the scenery pass outside.

“Guaranteed,” Joe replied with a smirk. “He texted me a picture of a balloon arch at like 2 a.m. last night.”

You laughed, imagining Ja’Marr staying up late to perfect the setup. “Well, at least he’s taking his duties as ‘honorary uncle’ seriously.”

The drive passed quickly, and before you knew it, Joe was pulling into Ja’Marr’s driveway, which was lined with cars and a few oversized SUVs that you recognized as belonging to other players. Sure enough, there was a massive balloon arch at the entrance, spelling out Welcome Baby Hayes! in bold, glittering letters.

“Subtle,” Joe muttered, grinning as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

You glanced back at Hayes, who was wide-eyed and babbling nonsense to his stuffed tiger. “Alright, baby boy,” you said softly. “Let’s go meet Dad’s other family.”

Joe grabbed the baby bag while you carefully lifted Hayes out of his car seat, holding him close as the two of you walked up to the door. The second you stepped inside, the noise hit—a chorus of cheers and shouts greeting you like a wave.

“There he is!”

“Joey B and Baby B!”

“Look at this little guy!”

The Bengals were in full force, a mix of giant smiles, loud voices, and open arms. Ja’Marr was the first to approach, grinning ear to ear as he took in the sight of Hayes.

“Man, he’s even smaller than I thought,” Ja’Marr said, bending down slightly to get a better look. “What’s up, little guy? I’m your Uncle Ja’Marr. You’re gonna hear a lot about me.”

Hayes blinked at him, his tiny face scrunching up like he wasn’t sure how to feel about the towering man in front of him.

“Give him some space, Chase,” Tee Higgins joked, nudging Ja’Marr aside. “You’re probably scaring the poor kid.”

“Scaring him?” Ja’Marr shot back, feigning offense. “I’m the most likable guy in the room.”

You laughed, adjusting Hayes in your arms as Joe stepped in beside you, offering nods and grins to his teammates. “He’s already used to noise, trust me,” you said.

As the party got underway, the team took turns fawning over Hayes. Sam Hubbard tried to cradle him like a football, earning a sharp “don’t even think about it” from you, while Evan McPherson made Hayes giggle with a silly face. Even the usually stoic players softened around your baby, their towering frames and booming voices taking on a gentle edge.

“He’s got your baby blues,” Tyler Boyd remarked to Joe, who had settled next to you on the couch, looking proud and a little overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Yeah,” Joe said, glancing at Hayes with a faint smile. “He’s a good mix of both of us, though.”

You smiled, leaning into Joe’s side as Hayes cooed and wiggled in your lap. It was chaos, sure, but the good kind—the kind that made you feel surrounded by love and warmth.

The party buzzed on, filled with warm chatter and soft laughter, but Joe’s focus never wavered. Hayes had become the star of the show, passed around like a delicate treasure as each of Joe’s teammates clamored for a turn to hold him.

“Alright, my turn,” Tee Higgins declared, holding out his arms.

You glanced at Joe, who was standing just a few steps away, his shoulders tense as if Hayes might suddenly sprout wings and fly out of someone’s grip.

Tee chuckled. “Relax, man. I’ve got nieces and nephews. I know what I’m doing.”

Joe hesitated, his jaw tightening before he finally nodded. “Just… make sure his head’s supported.”

“Got it, Dad,” Tee replied with a teasing grin. He carefully scooped Hayes out of your arms, holding him securely. “See? No problem.”

Joe crossed his arms, his eyes glued to Hayes like a hawk watching its prey. His lips pressed into a thin line every time Hayes wiggled or let out a tiny noise.

“You’re gonna burn a hole into Tee’s face if you keep staring like that,” you whispered to Joe, nudging him lightly.

“He’s fine,” Joe muttered, though his feet shifted as if he were ready to lunge at any moment.

Ja’Marr sidled up beside him, clapping him on the back. “Man, you’ve gotta chill. Hayes is cool. Tee’s not gonna drop him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joe replied quickly. But his body language said otherwise, every muscle taut as he watched Tee sway gently with Hayes, making goofy faces that earned a few soft coos from the baby.

As the night went on, each teammate took their turn. Evan, with his steady kicker’s hands, rocked Hayes expertly, drawing a rare smile from Joe. Even the defensive linemen, whose hands were more accustomed to crushing quarterbacks than cradling babies, handled Hayes with surprising gentleness.

Sam leaned down to whisper something to Hayes, his voice soft but gruff. “Alright, little guy. In a few years, we’ll get you in pads, yeah?”

“Over my dead body,” Joe shot back, his voice sharp enough to draw a laugh from the room.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Joe. His protectiveness wasn’t new, but seeing it in action with Hayes added a new layer to the man you already loved. There was something endearing about the way he hovered, his eyes darting from one set of hands to the next, his whole demeanor a mixture of pride and quiet panic.

Finally, Ja’Marr got his turn, holding Hayes with a confidence that rivaled Joe’s own. “See? This is how you do it,” he said, rocking Hayes like a natural.

Joe didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed locked on Hayes, his lips twitching every time the baby shifted.

“Alright, alright,” Ja’Marr teased, handing Hayes back to you. “Before Joey B has a heart attack.”

Joe exhaled audibly as Hayes was safely returned to your arms. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against Hayes’s back as if to reassure himself.

“He was fine, you know,” you said softly, smiling up at him.

“I know,” Joe murmured, his hand lingering. “But he’s… I just don’t like being too far from him.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you leaned into his side, letting Hayes settle comfortably between you.

“Welcome to fatherhood,” you said with a grin.

Joe finally relaxed, his arm draping over your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his gaze still on Hayes. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

[p0orbaby]

All This Money, Darling, What Else Is Left to Do?

summary: you’ve moved to barca for work, you meet alexia

warnings: SMUT 18+, strap use, bathroom sex, how original

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 1.1k

other parts found here

-

You’ve never been good with Spanish, which is unfortunate considering you’ve just moved to Barcelona to film a series that’s supposed to be your “dark, gritty” transition from Hollywood darling to Oscar-worthy actress. A role that will, in your words, “finally earn me that little golden bastard.” The director had only sighed in response, muttering something about Brits and their insatiable thirst for awards, before handing you a script written entirely in Spanish.

You’ve got all the superficial things down: tousled hair that looks like you just rolled out of bed in a sultry way (when in reality, it took your stylist an hour to perfect), designer sunglasses that scream “I’m too famous to be bothered,” and a wardrobe carefully curated to say, “I’m an artist, but I could still outdress you at a red carpet event.”

The language, though, remains your Everest.

Which is how you find yourself at a party hosted by some up-and-coming director who might actually be a waiter – it’s hard to tell when everyone here looks like they stepped out of an indie film. The only reason you’re here is because your agent insists you need to “immerse yourself in the culture.” Apparently, the key to embodying a brooding Spanish detective is to drink sangria and eat patatas bravas at a rooftop party with people who don’t recognise you. Or worse, pretend not to recognise you.

You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for an hour, half-watching as a group of women discuss something with intense, dramatic flair. You’re only half-listening until one of them catches your eye.

You don’t know her name. Not yet. But you know she’s trouble from the way she moves. She’s all sharp edges and grace, the kind of woman who makes every hair on your body stand on end before you’ve even exchanged a word. When she looks at you, it’s like she already knows you – all of you – even the parts you try to keep hidden behind layers of well-crafted mystique.

You make a mental note to stay away from her. Which, naturally, means you’ll be making out in the bathroom with her within the hour.

And that’s exactly how it happens. One moment, you’re trying to figure out what the hell “Tarjeta amarilla” means, and the next, she’s pressed up against you, lips smashing into yours like she’s been waiting her entire life to taste you. It’s heady, intoxicating, the way she devours you like you’re something she plans to enjoy slowly – but not yet.

The bathroom is one of those annoyingly chic setups with a waterfall tap and hand towels that look like they should be in a palace. It’s also incredibly small, which is fine because she’s pressed up against you, and suddenly there’s no need for space.

You don’t know who makes the first move. It’s all a blur of hands and lips, and somewhere between her tongue tracing the line of your jaw and your fingers digging into her hips, you figure out you don’t actually care.

Her name’s Alexia. You learned that somewhere between her pushing you against the wall and slipping her hand under your bra. Alexia, whispered like a prayer. Or maybe it was a curse. She’s too good at this. Too good at the way she takes control, the way she knows exactly where to touch you to make you gasp, arch, and cling to her like she’s your lifeline.

And then she’s guiding you to the sink, bending you over like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It probably is for her – something about the way she holds you down with one massive hand and undoes her jeans with the other tells you this is far from her first time.

You glance up at the mirror, and there you are – tousled hair now a genuine mess, eyes blown wide, lips kiss-swollen and desperate. You look every bit the part of a woman who’s about to get absolutely wrecked.

Which is exactly what happens.

Alexia’s behind you, and then something cool and smooth is pressing against your entrance – a strap, because of course, she’d have one at the ready. You bite your lip, half to stifle a moan and half because you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing you already coming undone. You’re an actress, after all, and the best performances are always the ones where you keep the audience guessing.

Not that it matters. The second she pushes in, you’re a mess, nails scraping against the sink’s surface as you try – and fail – to keep yourself together. She’s ruthless, setting a pace that leaves no room for pretense. It’s rough, raw, the kind of fucking that makes you forget your name and what you’re supposed to be doing here in Spain in the first place.

“Te gusta, ¿verdad?” she murmurs in your ear, voice low and teasing. And by her tone you just about make out she’s asked you a question.

“Fuck, yes,” you gasp, any attempt at playing it cool flying out the window as she thrusts harder, deeper. The sound of skin against skin fills the small bathroom, along with your increasingly loud moans. There’s no point in being quiet now – everyone out there either knows what’s happening or will by the time she’s done with you.

It’s filthy, the way she fucks you – no pretense, no gentleness, just pure, unbridled lust. You’re half-certain you’ll have bruises tomorrow, and the thought only turns you on more.

“Mírate,” she breathes, voice laced with dark amusement. “Miss Hollywood, siendo follada como una vulgar zorra"

You whimper in response, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t understand a word she’s saying. Yet you’re still reduced to nothing but pure pleasure, body trembling as she drives you closer and closer to the precipice.

And then she does something with her hips – some angle that has you seeing stars, and you’re gone, crying out her name as you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life. The kind of orgasm that leaves you breathless, boneless, clinging to the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

But she doesn’t stop. Not until you’re shaking, overstimulated and begging her to – not until she’s milked every last bit of pleasure from you, until you’re nothing but a panting, sweaty mess in her extremely toned arms.

When she finally pulls out, you collapse against the sink, legs barely holding you up. Alexia’s still behind you, hands sliding up your sides in a way that’s almost affectionate. Almost.

“That was…” You try to find words, but they’re lost somewhere between the haze of lust and the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Sí,” she agrees, smirking as she steps back, giving you just enough space to turn around and face her.

There’s something in her eyes, something that says she’s not done with you yet. And despite the fact that you should probably get back to the party, should probably straighten yourself up and pretend like you haven’t just been fucked within an inch of your life, you can’t bring yourself to care.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Mimosas and Friends (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 19! I like the idea of this one but not sure I like how it has turned out. I am not going to lie i had to get some help with the secret santa gits and the mimosas!

The morning sun peeked through the frost-covered windows, casting a warm glow across your living room as you rushed between the kitchen and dining room, setting out the final touches for the Christmas brunch. Holiday music drifted softly through the apartment, mingling with the scents of cinnamon, warm syrup, and fresh coffee. You could feel the holiday spirit bubbling within you as you arranged a plate of croissants and pastries, making sure everything looked perfect.

“Need any help in here?” Alexia’s voice drifted from behind you. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a soft green sweater that matched her eyes, her cheeks slightly pink from the chilly morning air.

You smiled, appreciating her festive choice. “Yes, please! Can you bring out the fruit salad and maybe set the glasses? I think that’s all that’s left.”

She gave you a playful salute, grabbing the fruit bowl and placing it in the centre of the table, adjusting the dishes with a small jiggle as she danced to the music. Alexia had been excited about hosting brunch for your friends all week, even coming up with ideas for a holiday mimosa bar and picking out little decorations to give the place an extra cozy feel. The kitchen table was decked out with poinsettias, mini holiday wreaths, and sparkly gold place cards. You were so proud of what you had both done, it was simple, warm, and perfectly festive.

“Everything looks amazing,” she said, glancing around with satisfaction. “Do you think we went a little overboard with the decorations?”

You laughed, nudging her lightly. “It’s Christmas! I think it’s just the right amount of overboard.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, lingering a little longer than you expected before pulling back. “I’ll start the coffee maker so we’re ready as soon as they get here. You know how much Mapi and Marta need their caffeine.”

Just as she pressed the start button, you heard the buzzer. Your friends had arrived, and the excitement of the holiday gathering filled you both as you headed to the door together.

Mapi, Caro, Frido, and a few more friends stepped inside, bundled up and cheeks flushed from the chilly December air. They greeted you with hugs and exclamations over the decorations, the inviting warmth of the apartment, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

“Oh, this place looks incredible!” Mapi said, wide-eyed as she took in the setup. “And you even set up a mimosa bar? That’s it, you two are officially the hostesses of the year. And you must host every time, me and Ingrid well, Ingrid would never be able to beat this on her own.”

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that came tumbling out when Mapi stumbled forward from the hit to the back of her head she received from Ingrid. You really loved your friends, and you were so glad you could all make this day happen around your busy schedules.

You exchanged a grin with Alexia as Frido helped herself to a cranberry-orange mimosa, raising her glass in appreciation. “To Christmas brunch with the best hosts!” she said, grinning.

“To Christmas brunch!” everyone chimed, clinking glasses before settling around the table, diving into the spread of pastries, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

Everyone settled into the tightly packed dining room, exchanging excited chatter and laughs as they filled their plates. The warmth of the food, mixed with the holiday décor, brought an unmistakable festive energy to the room. Frido and Mapi were already diving into the mimosa bar, experimenting with cranberry juice and orange zest to create their own “perfect holiday drink.”

As everyone settled in, you and Alexia took your places side by side at the table, watching as your friends tucked into the meal you’d both worked so hard to prepare. You couldn’t help but feel a glow of pride at the satisfied murmurs and eager “Mmm” sounds that filled the room.

“I have to say,” Mapi spoke through a mouthful of French toast, “this is the best decision we’ve made all month. Top-tier food, top-tier company.”

“Oh, and don’t forget top-tier decorations!” Patri teased, reaching over to pinch one of the mini wreaths adorning the table. “I love that you two went all out. It feels like we’re in some kind of cozy Christmas movie.”

Alexia laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “What can I say? I don’t do things halfway,” she replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze under the table. “Especially not when it’s Christmas.”

As the conversation drifted to light hearted topics, everyone sharing stories of past holiday memories, you took a moment to just look around the table. Friends sharing laughs over gingerbread pancakes and eggnog-flavoured lattes, plates of pastries disappearing under happy chatter. It was exactly the kind of holiday moment you’d envisioned when you and Alexia had decided to host this brunch.

“Alright, holiday confession time,” Mapi announced, setting her fork down and pointing at each of you in turn. “What’s the best, or most embarrassing, Christmas present you’ve ever received?”

Alexia groaned playfully, glancing at you with a mock-warning expression. “Do you really want to go there? Because I’ll tell them about that Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, please do,” Claudia jumped in, her eyes widening with anticipation. “I want details.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t that bad!” you protested, though the memory of the sweater, a handmade creation from a well-meaning relative, was enough to make your cheeks burn red.

“Oh, it was legendary,” Alexia said with a laugh, leaning back and giving your friends a vivid description of the neon-green monstrosity with flashing LED lights and a battery pack. “She wore it to my family’s Christmas dinner and accidentally leaned back, setting off the lights. Everyone thought it was intentional. It was iconic.”

The table erupted into laughter, and you covered your face, smiling despite yourself. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. But what about you, Alexia? I distinctly remember a certain singing reindeer hat…”

Mapi and Patri’s curiosity was instantly piqued. They leaned forward, and with an exaggerated sigh, Alexia explained how her sister had once gifted her a fuzzy red hat with antlers and a button that, when pressed, played a very off-key version of “Jingle Bells.”

The light hearted exchange continued, each of you sharing funny or sentimental memories, creating new ones together as you teased and laughed over your food and drinks. Someone switched the playlist to a mix of holiday classics, and you all joined in on an enthusiastic, but slightly off-key, rendition of “Last Christmas,” singing with your whole hearts as if you were on stage rather than around a breakfast table.

As the plates emptied, Alexia got up to refill the coffee pot, catching your eye with a gentle smile. She paused, watching you for a moment as you leaned across the table, laughing at something Mapi said. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“This turned out even better than I thought,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You smiled back, heart warmed by her expression. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

With a quick wink, she moved back to the coffee station, and you turned your attention back to your friends, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

After a few more rounds of coffee, and even a spontaneous and slightly competitive mimosa-mixing contest, everyone leaned back in their chairs, looking happily full and relaxed.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Alexia announced, standing up and grabbing a small basket from the counter. “It wouldn’t be a proper holiday brunch without a little Secret Santa action, right?”

Your friends perked up, exchanging surprised and excited glances as Alexia handed out small envelopes to each person. Earlier in the week, she’d put together little “gift vouchers,” fun little coupons that each friend could cash in for things like a coffee date, a game of football, or even something silly, like “One Free Favor (No Complaints Allowed).”

She handed one of the envelopes to you last, a secretive smile on her face as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note in her familiar scrawl: “One day of your choice, anywhere you want. I’ll make it happen.”

You looked up, grinning, and Alexia shrugged with a playful smile. “Can’t have my favourite person missing out on the fun,” she said, her tone warm.

One by one, each person shared what they’d received, laughter filling the room as they joked about how they’d “cash in” their favours. Frido declared she’d be calling in her “Free Dinner” voucher immediately, while Mapi, in typical style, was already making plans for her “One Free Dance Session” from Alexia.

As the brunch slowly wound down, the group lounged around the table, nursing their drinks and sharing more stories, reluctant to let the day end. Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the conversation shifted to everyone’s holiday plans and the promise to gather again soon.

After the last friend left, the apartment felt quiet but wonderfully warm, still glowing with the energy of shared laughter and friendship. You and Alexia exchanged a tired but happy look, both of you lingering in the contentment of the morning.

“That was perfect,” you said, leaning into her, your arm slipping around her waist as you both looked at the remnants of the brunch.

Alexia sighed softly, her arm around your shoulders as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “It really was,” she murmured. “We’ll have to make this a new tradition. Just like this, every year.”

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

"hi, I'm gojo, your favorite sorcerer, and I think shoko is gonna be the drunkest tonight."

if shoko ieiri has one undeniable talent, it's bringing people together—though her plans often border on catastrophic. so when yaga steps out of class to take a call, you aren't surprised to see a sly grin spread menacingly across her face. turning in her seat, she wastes no time laying out this week's plan—meticulously crafted, as always.

she breaks it down into a comprehensive, four-step process:

convince her older cousin to buy her alcohol tomorrow during her family’s visit

sneak said alcohol into the school and stash it under her bed

host a party in her dorm friday night while yaga is away overnight

blackout.

you and gojo exchange amused glances, already on board. shoko's plans are always a healthy mix of brilliance and disaster. geto, predictably, looks hesitant.

"is this really a good idea?" he asks, brow furrowing. "what if something goes wrong? most of the tokyo staff will be gone with yaga. no one will be here to help."

shoko leans back smugly, her arms crossed. "and that's why I'm a seasoned expert in reversed curse techniques. relax, geto. that's literally my whole thing."

geto rolls his eyes but doesn't argue further.

"don't fret, suguboo!" gojo interjects, puffing out his chest dramatically. "they call me the strongest for a reason. I'll take care of you when you inevitably get wasted." he flutters his snowy-white eyelashes for emphasis.

geto deadpans. "me?"

"you heard me. waaastee—" gojo drags out the word, but the sound of yaga’s approaching footsteps cuts him off.

you react instinctively, smacking the back of his head. "quiet, idiot."

by friday, the plan had unfolded without a hitch. well, almost—gojo got smacked up several more times for being oblivious, and shoko nearly had a heart attack when one of the shopping bags threatened to burst under the weight of the bottles on school grounds. still, by the time you helped her stash the loot, everything was ready for what she dubbed "operation blackout."

at 9:44 pm, shoko's message pops up in the group chat:

Ieiri Shoko | Today at 9:44 PM evrybdy head over!! 🥂

when you open the door to her dorm, you’re immediately struck by the startling transformation. the normally cluttered space was spotless, the floor gleaming as if polished. a low table sits in the center of the room, draped in a burgundy tablecloth and surrounded by eight matching cushions. twinkling lights crisscross the ceiling, and the scent of something delicious wafts from the kitchenette, where shoko is bent over the stove.

utahime stands at the counter, pouring drinks from a tall pitcher into glasses. an empty sake bottle sits beside her.

"wow, you aren't playing around, sho," you say, stepping closer.

shoko spins around, startled. "shit, don't sneak up on me like that! almost dropped a bowl."

you smirk, peeking at the tray she's prepared. perfectly arranged katsudon bowls—crispy fried pork over rice, garnished with scallions.

"well, don't just stand there," shoko says, snapping you out of your awe. "make yourself useful. operation blackout starts with a heavy meal and a sake cocktail to warm us up."

"yes, ma'am." you salute before obediently grabbing the tray carefully from her outstretched hands to place at the table.

the gang filters in one by one, each person reacting with impressed remarks at the eloquent setup.

"I thought this was going to be a trashy frat-party experience," mei mei said, sliding into the last open seat. "this actually warrants my attendance."

utahime scoffs, "backhanded compliments are your specialty, huh?"

"I mean," gojo chimes in, grinning, "considering shoko's goal of total blackout, I figured we'd be doing keg stands before forcing suguru to let us ride rainbow dragon to mcdonald's at three am."

"as if," geto mutters.

nanami raises an eyebrow. "keg stands, gojo really? this isn't some coming-of-age teen drama, you watch way too much tv."

gojo glares, a flush creeping up his cheeks. "you never know."

haibara jumps in, grinning brightly. "kento, hush! anyway, great job tonight, shoko! this is amazing."

"I second that," you say, pulling out your phone. "and to commemorate the night, let's make a bet. let's each record a video saying who we think will get the drunkest tonight. we'll review the footage later to see who was right. deal?"

with this group's competitive streak, everyone immediately agrees.

you prop your phone against the bathroom sink, angling it perfectly. with a satisfied nod, you return to the others in the dorm. "alright, who wants to start?"

"ME! ME! ME! ME!," gojo's hand shoots up, waving frantically.

you catch nanami's exaggerated eye roll and laugh, "alright, satoru, the floor is yours."

00:03 ==⬤---------------------- 04:01  ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻  gojo: "...and we're live! hi, I'm gojo, your favorite sorcerer, and I think shoko is gonna be the drunkest tonight. I mean, c'mon—she's literally an aspiring alcoholic!"

geto: "hello, viewers. geto suguru here. my prediction? gojo will be the drunkest. sure, he's got impressive stamina in combat, but let's be real—that doesn't translate to drinking."

you: "hey, y'all! it's me. so, I know gojo's gonna be the drunkest tonight. he's giving strong lightweight energy."

nanami: "to whom it may concern, my name is nanami kento, and I believe yu haibara will be the drunkest tonight. right now, I confidently estimate my prediction to be of 70% certainty."

haibara: "haibara here! after careful consideration, I think our dear host, shoko ieiri, will be the drunkest tonight. she literally said she wants to black out!"

shoko: "the moment you've all been waiting for—ieiri shoko: sorcerer, host, chef, and event planner extraordinaire. holding for applause... okay, I'm predicting utahime or gojo will be the drunkest tonight. they're both way too hot-headed and competitive."

utahime: "h-hi! I'm iori utahime, and I think gojo's gonna be the drunkest tonight. he's always bragging about being the strongest, but that can only get him so far. so I guarantee he'll be the weakest tonight."

mei mei: "they saved the best for last. I'm mei mei, and I think sweet utahime is going to be the drunkest tonight. low tolerance vibes. and with that, let's reconvene later for updates..." 04:01 =================⬤ 04:01  ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

when mei mei returns your phone, shoko has already begun her toast to the evening. "here's to a messy, sloppy, drunken night," she says, raising her glass. "may I be passed out on the grass by four am!"

utahime doubles over laughing as everyone clinks glasses. the bitter, tangy scent of sake fills the air as the group shouts, "cheers!"

the conversation drifts into speculative territory as gojo leads a heated discussion about principal yaga's alleged secret love child. evidence cited includes muffled crying or squealing sounds overheard from his office and trashed crib packaging. the theory dies down as the meal takes center stage. the katsudon, perfectly seasoned and artfully plated, is a hit—a warm, savory comfort that pairs too well with the strong drinks.

plates empty and glasses drained, you observe the scene. gojo, is even chattier than usual, his words tumbling over each other at lightning speed. haibara's cheeks glow tomato red, and utahime twirls a braid around her finger, sneaking glances at shoko. very, very interesting.

meanwhile, shoko, geto, mei mei, and nanami seem relatively unaffected—or are just better at hiding it. you decide it's time to turn up the chaos.

"guys!" you tap your glass with a pair of chopsticks, drawing their attention. "we still have four bottles of tequila to get through. who's up for a drinking game of truth or dare?"

the suggestion is met with enthusiastic cheers from shoko, gojo, mei mei, and utahime. haibara looks excited but hesitant, while geto and nanami exchange weary glances, clearly bracing for disaster.

"as host," shoko declares, waving her chopsticks like a wand, "I command full participation. let me pour some shots. who needs a mixed drink?"

shoko and utahime get to work. plates are cleared and replaced with a neat line of shots. utahime's heavy-handed pours prompt a dramatic gasp from mei mei.

"damn, 'hime," mei mei says, inspecting the shots. "you trying to kill us?"

shoko returns with two mixed drinks, sliding them toward haibara and nanami. "classiest of the group," you mutter with a grin.

you smooth your hands over your hair, leaning forward to begin the game. "alright, let's start this right. host sho—truth or dare?"

"dare, duh," shoko replies instantly.

"hmmm..." you glance at gojo. "what did you bring as a chaser?"

with a flourish, gojo pulls a bottle from beneath the table. "strawberry ramune, my favorite~ why?"

"perfect. shoko, I dare you to drink gojo's chaser."

shoko grabs the bottle without hesitation, but just as she tilts it, you interrupt.

"oh, by the way—gojo adds five packets of sugar to sweeten his ramune."

the table erupts in laughter. nanami smirks, and shoko sputters as she swallows the disgustingly sweet concoction.

"blegh!" shoko slams the bottle down, grimacing. "gojo, who does this shit?!"

reaching for a shot, she drowns it in one go—and then grabs another.

"two shots to chase ramune?" haibara asks, incredulous as he shrugs off his sweater. "that bad?"

"it was that bad," shoko confirms, her voice muffled as she pours herself another drink.

"let's..." shoko wipes her tongue with a napkin, grimacing. "let's just move on. I'm asking... geto. truth or dare?"

"after witnessing... whatever that was," geto gestures vaguely toward shoko's earlier tequila ordeal, "I'm gonna play it safe and go with truth."

shoko grins mischievously, tilting her head as she looks geto up and down. "okayyy," she drawls, clearly deep in thought. "hmm... got it! you're the only guy here with ear piercings—such a bad boy," she teases, earning a visible cringe from geto. "so my question is: do you have any other piercings we don't know about?"

you press your lips together to stifle a laugh. as close as you are to geto, you already know the answer. he's going to drink.

sure enough, geto opens his mouth to respond but then, without a word, picks up a shot and downs it in one smooth motion.

"WHAT?!" shoko shrieks, half outraged, half delighted.

"naughty," mei mei murmurs, leaning her chin into her palm, her smirk growing wider.

"sugu's such a tease. its just a—" gojo starts, but you slam your hand over his mouth before he can spill the details.

"don't you dare," you hiss.

gojo bites your palm in retaliation, but you refuse to let go, glaring at him.

geto clears his throat, grimacing slightly at the tequila's burn. "and there's my cue to move on," he says, brushing past the topic. "since satoru seems eager to air out my business—truth or dare?"

you cautiously release your hand from gojo's mouth, glancing at the raw bite marks on your palm. gojo scratches his chin dramatically, as if pondering some great mystery, then grins, his azure eyes lighting up.

"dare! cuz I'm not a pussy".

geto laughs, unbothered by the jab. "alright, satoru. this one's easy—I dare you to eat all the scallions you picked off your food."

the table collectively turns to look at gojo's napkin, overflowing with at least twenty pieces of scallion he meticulously removed.

"suguruuuu," gojo whines, slumping in defeat.

geto merely slides him a shot, patting his fluffy white hair. gojo glares at the drink, nose wrinkling as he takes a tentative sip. he shudders visibly, sticking out his tongue. "so gross."

as he sets the glass down, his eyes narrow. he scans the group, zeroing in on utahime, who's laughing a little too hard at this expense.

"utahime," he announces, and her grin instantly vanishes. "yeah, not so funny now, huh? truth or dare?"

she groans. "ugh, truth"

gojo clasps his hands together like an evil mastermind, his grin nothing short of diabolic. "who here, out of all of us, would you say is the weakest link in jujutsu society?"

"uncalled for," you mutter, yanking on his ear like a scolding parent.

"stop picking on her, satoru." shoko adds, rolling her eyes.

but utahime surprises everyone by taking it in stride. she lifts a shot, downs it without hesitation, and wipes her chin with a satisfied smirk. "moving on. your turn," she says, turning to you with a pointed look. "truth or dare?"

"dare," you reply confidently. "give me a juicy one."

utahime exchanges a mischevious look with mei mei before whispering something in her ear.

"got it," mei mei says, sitting upright. "give us your phone. utahime and I get to send one text to anyone we want—and you can't take it back until the end of the night."

you take a steadying breath, weighing your options. it's only utahime and mei mei, you reason. how bad could it be? if it were gojo, the tequila would already be halfway to your lips. finally, you unlock your phone and slide it across the table.

"go ahead. do your worst."

mei mei snatches it up gleefully, her fingers flying across the screen. you pointedly look away, unwilling to torture yourself by imagining what chaos they're unleashing.

"alright," you announce. "let's keep the game rolling. haibara—truth or dare?"

haibara flushes an even deeper shade of red than before, the color creeping onto his neck. "I'm a little nervous," he admits shyly. "truth."

"don't be nervous," you say with mock sincerity. "we're your closest friends! we'd never judge or be offended by anything you say or do. that said... who here is your least favorite person?"

haibara gasps, clutching his chest. "noooo! I can't answer that—it's too mean! I love and respect you all equally!"

nanami, ever the calm voice of reason, places a gentle hand on haibara's and nudges it toward his drink. "take two sips, yu," he says simply.

you chuckle as geto flicks your forehead. "harsh, but fair."

haibara obeys, taking two large gulps. he sets his glass down, visibly tipsy now, and beaming at nanami.

"okay, nanamiiin~" haibara slurs slightly, drawing out the nickname, "truth or dare?"

nanami raises a brow but humors him with a small smile. "dare."

"alrighty," haibara begins, leaning in conspiratorially. "for some backstory—I heard you singing in the shower a couple weeks ago when you thought no one was around."

the table collectively perks up.

"so," haibara continues, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper that's still loud enough for everyone to hear, "I dare you to sing for us. don't be shy, ken. you have a beautiful voice."

the group falls into stunned silence. nanami's ears turn bright red as the color spreads across his cheeks. it's possibly the first time you've ever seen him blush.

after a pause, he clears his throat and picks up his glass. "you got me there, yu," he says smoothly, before chugging the rest of his drink in one go.

haibara's face falls, his disappointment palpable. "aww, but I really wanted to hear it!"

nanami leans over, resting an arm on haibara's shoulder. you catch a faint, "later," murmured under his breath.

and with that, he nods toward mei mei, signaling the game to continue.

"alright, mei mei, truth or dare?" nanami asks, his tone measured, as always.

"dare, of course," mei mei replies smoothly, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder.

nanami straightens his collar, clearly crafting something calculated. "I dare you to do your best impression of someone at this table. if we don't guess it right, you drink. no talking allowed."

"regulated and thorough," mei mei says with a smirk. "I would expect nothing less from you, nanami. very well, I'll begin."

she stands, her violet off-the-shoulder sweater swaying with her movement. turning her back to the group, she pauses for dramatic effect. then, with a sharp turn of her head, she flutters her eyelashes, blows an exaggerated kiss, sticks her tongue out, and pretends to push up invisible glasses.

haibara is the first to pipe up, "I got it! 's gojo-senpai, that's really g'd, mei mei!"

"how the actual fuck is that me?!" gojo exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

mei mei curtsies, her smirk widening. "correct, haibara. it was an easy choice—gojo's the most dramatic one here."

the group hums in agreement. shoko, sipping from her drink, adds dryly, "since we guessed it right away, shouldn't gojo drink? he's technically the loser."

"you can't just make up rules, sho!" gojo protests, looking around for support. his gaze lands on geto, who shrugs and slides him a shot.

"sounds fair to me, satoru. unless... you can't handle it?" geto teases, his grin lazy but pointed.

with a theatrical sigh, gojo downs the shot, grimacing as he does. nanami ever the thoughtful one, disappears into the kitchen, returning with a cocktail for himself and glasses of water for both gojo and haibara. gojo accepts his water with a reluctant nod, taking slow sips while you rub soothing circles on his back.

"your kindness is admirable," mei mei drawls, watching you with amused eyes. "but since you're being so tenderhearted, I'll send some chaos your way. truth or dare?"

you immediately withdraw your hand, straightening in your seat. "truth."

mei mei leans forward, violet eyes glinting mischievously. "I’m feeling messy, so… who would you fuck, marry, and kill among your fellow third-years? choose wisely."

the table erupts into a mix of gasps and laughter. haibara nearly chokes on his drink, and nanami quietly hands him his water. all eyes turn to you, expectant.

you lean back, arms crossed. "alright, I'll answer with my whole chest. first, marry shoko—duh. she’s special-grade wife material. she cooks, cleans, and nurses you back to health."

utahime's grin falters slightly, but you press on. "fuck suguru—" you gesture toward him, "I mean, look at him. plus, we all know he swallows."

the table howls with laughter as shoko nearly falls out of her seat. geto arches an eyebrow at you, looking both flattered and mildly concerned.

"and I guess that leaves gojo, so... kill him." you shrug. "though honestly, I don't even know how I'd manage that."

gojo clutches his chest, aghast. "why me?!" you just admitted you can't even kill me yourself! and what, am I unattractive to you?!"

you roll your eyes. "relax, bookie. you're fine as hell, but you're more 'all-up-in-your-face' fine. suguru's more... nonchalant fine."

the group hums in agreement, fueling gojo's indignation. "what does that even mean?!" he whines, flailing.

geto places a calming hand on his arm, his voice even. "relax, satoru. I have my own concerns—" his gaze flickers to you. "—about the swallowing comment."

feigning nonchalance, you glance at your wrist as if checking an invisible watch. "oh would you look at the time? moving on. shoko, truth or dare?"

"dare," shoko says immediately, lifting the tequila bottles. "and as host, I declare a new rule: from now on everyone drinks every turn, no exceptions."

a collective groan rises from the trio of haibara, gojo, and utahime, all clearly tipsy. you, mei mei, geto, and nanami grunt or nod in agreement.

"lovin’ that energy sho, so to up the ante," you say, digging into your pocket, "I dare you to smoke this." you toss a poorly rolled, but fat blunt onto the table. "and take a shot after. getting crossed should help you reach tonight's goal."

shoko's eyes light up as she snatches it greedily. "the girls are really coming through tonight! you're a godsend."

gojo scoffs. "godsend? how? she brought literal drugs to your party! isn't it called the devil's lettuce?"

shoko snorts, rummaging for a lighter. "this, from the guy who probably can't even stand up straight."

"I just don't feel like standing right now," gojo mumbles, pouting.

shoko gives him a withering look. "fine. truth or dare, satoru?"

"well, now I know what the dare is, so... truth."

"alright. who at this table have you had a sex dream about?"

the table falls into stunned silence. nanami chokes on his drink, and gojo freezes, eyes wide as they dart around the group. his gaze lingers a bit too long on you and geto before he quickly looks down, blushing furiously.

shoko smirks, satisfied. "definitely tabling that reaction to circle back to later."

gojo groans, face hidden behind his hands. "'m drinking. everyone drink."

you clink your glass with geto's, smirking. he wasn't fooling anyone.

shoko makes her way to the sliding backdoor, tossing a casual remark over her shoulder. “I'll be back in a flash—just gonna step outside to finish my dare. keep it going, and don't forget my shot when I get back." she winks before stepping out and taking a seat on the back steps.

inside, gojo hiccups, his high-pitched squeak drawing laughter around the table. his cheeks flush a shade brighter. you smirk, knowing your prediction about his tolerance was proving accurate.

clearing his throat, he wobbles a little before announcing, "who'd I wanna choose next... hmm... nanamin~! my dearesst kouhai, trussted friend, and bl—"

"I'm afraid to let you finish that sentence," nanami cuts him off dryly, already raising his glass. "so, I'll just drink. everybody?"

the table burst into laughter, raising their glasses to join him. haibara clunks his cup down a little too hard before slumping over, his head landing heavily on nanami's shoulder, some tequila dribbling from his lips onto nanami's sleeve.

nanami sighs, staring down at the mess before resigning himself. "haibara, maybe stick to mini-sips for your next few drinks. you can't even hold yourself up anymore."

haibara hums in drowsy agreement, leaning further into nanami, who chuckles heartily—a rare sound that surprises everyone. turning to geto, nanami raises a brow. "geto-senpai, truth or dare?"

geto, looking unbothered as usual, undoes his bun, letting his inky-black hair spill over his shoulders. he tucks a loose strand behind his gauged ear with a casual flick. "dare, nanamin~."

nanami considers this, his words tumbling over each other as the alcohol dulls his normally precise tone. "how about I... you... okay, I dare you to ride your manta ray curse around the school right now."

geto blinks, waiting for a punchline that never comes. "wait, you're serious? now? like, right now?"

"I don't know how I could be any clearer."

"dick," gojo mutters.

geto shakes his head, airing out his shirt. "as much as I would—and have, by the way—I think that might qualify as drunk driving. or, you know, drunk flying."

"or drunk swimming," you chime in.

"semantics." geto waves it off. "fine, everybody drink."

at this point, the alcohol is catching up with you. tilting your head back to take your shot makes the room swim a little. you fan yourself, suddenly flushed. gojo notices, leaning close to blow cool air onto your face like a fan.

you giggle, slurring, "satoru smells like str'berriesss~."

geto shakes his head at the chaos and turns his attention to utahime, whose head was face down on the table. "utahime, get up. truth or dare?"

utahime rolls her head sluggishly to the side, revealing a face flushed deep red. "fucking dare."

"language," geto teased with a mock pout. "there's no need to cuss. let's bring out that sweet side of yours. I dare you to kiss shoko when she comes back."

utahime shoots up, wide-eyed. "what?! k-kiss—shoko?!"

"that is what I said," geto replies, calm as ever.

mei mei nudges utahime, smirking. "do it, and I'll finish that paperwork for your mission on monday."

after a moment of hesitation, utahime grabs her shot, muttering, "fine. fuck it," before tossing it back. she slumps over dramatically.

the backdoor slides open just then, shoko reappearing with a dreamy sway. her eyes bloodshot and reeking of weed, she gives a languid nod when you ask, "damn, sho. you killed it, huh?"

she slumps into her chair, blinking slowly. "soooo, where are we?"

utahime stiffens but manages to squeak out, "my dare is... to kiss you."

"oh." shoko's lips curl into a lazy smile. "'kay. go ahead." she tilts her face. presenting her cheek.

utahime leans in, delivering the quickest peck possible.

"boo," geto jeers.

"yeah! boo!!!" gojo joins, cut off by another hiccup.

"tomato, tomato, tomato," you tease.

shoko blinks in confusion, looking one breath away from falling asleep. haibara's muffled voice comes from nanami's shoulder, "s'not the kiss we's looking f'r. try again—on th' lips." he clumsily raises his hands in a heart shape.

shoko turns back to utahime with a sleepy "'kay," puckering her lips and closing her eyes.

utahime hesitates, side-eyeing the group before her expression softens. smitten, she closes her eyes and leans in. their lips meet in a soft peck, but shoko isn't done. she grabs utahime's jaw, pulling her into a loud, smacking kiss.

"arrgh."

everyone turns to gojo, who is clutching his stomach. he gags loudly.

"what the fu—gojo, are you okay?!" geto asks, concerned.

"arrgh, aargh—"

"are you seriously gagging?" you ask, wide-eyed.

he sputters, cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk before bolting for the bathroom. the door slams shut behind him, and moments later, the unmistakable sound of vomiting echoes.

the table sits frozen. shoko and utahime remains in their pose, hands still cradling each other's faces. the faint sound of retching fills the silence.

geto breaks the tension with a deadpan, "so, gojo's homophobic."

from the bathroom comes a strained yell, "'M NOT HOMOPHOBIC! it was just bad timing! I've never drunk befor—"

he gags again.

nanami buries his face in his hands. "jesus."

geto stands. "I've got him." he slips into the bathroom after gojo.

you push yourself up, retrieving water and chips from the kitchen. "I'll give him a hand," you say, heading for the bathroom. "sounds like he needs it."

the fluorescent bathroom light buzzes faintly, its harsh glow making your head pound as you step inside. gojo is bent over the toilet, panting heavily, his white hair sticking out in a chaotic mess. geto is knelt beside him, one hand rubbing circles into his back, murmuring softly, "you're okay, satoru. just breathe."

you ease down onto the cold tile floor beside them, your hand brushing gojo's sweaty bangs off his forehead. "you'll feel better soon," you say gently.

after another minute, gojo finally stops heaving. he reaches up with a trembling hand to flush the toilet, the sound of rushing water echoing in the small space.

uncapping a water bottle, you tilt it to his lips, letting him take a few cautious gulps. then you nudge geto over slightly and lean your back against the base of the toilet. gojo groans before collapsing across your laps, his head resting on geto's thigh and his chest presses into yours.

"the room is spinning, guys," gojo mumbles, voice hoarse. "make it stop".

geto smooths his palm over gojo's cheek, his voice low and soothing. "I know, satoru. just close your eyes and focus on your breathing."

reaching down, you find gojo's hand and lace your fingers with his, pulling it to his chest. you trace small circles over his knuckles. "you're okay, satoru," you murmur. "this happens to everyone."

gradually, his body softens in your hold. his breathing evens out as his eyelids flutter shut. geto hums a low, calming tune, and you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I think he's out 'ru," you whisper.

geto's arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "always looking after you two," he says quietly. "you owe me."

you snort, muffled against his chest. "'m comple'ly fine though!" but your own head was spinning, and the warmth of geto's hand tracing your arm lulls you toward sleep.

outside the bathroom, nanami notices haibara ceasing all movement, slumping lifelessly against his shoulder. concerned, he asks shoko for permission to use her room. once inside, he gently lays haibara on the bed, propping him up with pillows. fetching a glass of water and some bread from the kitchen, nanami coaxes small bites and sips out of him.

by the time haibara's color returns and his glassy eyes gain some clarity, nanami feels his own nerves ease. haibara grabs his wrist, tugging him onto the bed. reluctantly, nanami allows it, settling beside him. haibara's breath evens out as he drifts off, his forehead presses into nanami's side. nanami sighs, resigning himself to the makeshift role of caretaker once again.

shoko and utahime decide the night isn't over and stumble toward shoko's small couch with utahime's speaker in hand. shoko fiddles with her ipod shuffle browsing through her music gallery. she settles on her indie playlist, and excitedly stands on the couch pulling utahime clumsily up with her. what starts as vibing out quickly ends with them passed out together, limbs tangled and mouths agape, soft snores punctuating the quiet.

as the only one remaining at the table, mei mei is busy with her usual mischief. having memorized your phone's passcode earlier, she unlocks it again and frowns at the failed transaction she made from your dare earlier. not one to be deterred, she fiddles with the wi-fi and tries resending the payment. her face lights up moments later when a notification buzzes on the screen.

Mei Mei | Today at 2:14 AM this is an automated message. your apple cash amount of $[100.00] was processed successfully.

she smirks, scrolling through her personal wishlist for potential splurges. after adding a few items to her cart, she looks around the room, noting. the rhythmic snores of her friends. satisfied as the night's clear victor, she turns to your phone's camera and swipes to video, ready to document her triumph.

00:06 ==⬤---------------------- 01:22  ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻  mei mei (whispering): "once again, we have saved the best for last. everybody else just can't hang—it's quite unfortunate. as the rightful victor, I conclude that gojo satoru was the drunkest tonight, given his stint bent over the toilet. let's take a look, shall we?" [the camera pans to the bathroom. gojo is sprawled across the laps of geto and you, his face pressed against geto's thigh. geto's head rests against yours as all three of you snooze peacefully.] mei mei (whispering): "look at these cuties, snuggled up on the bathroom floor. gojo looks so peaceful, you would never know he was just expelling his entire stomach's contents barely an hour ago."

[the camera cuts to the couch, where shoko and utahime are tangled together in a chaotic sprawl, drooling and snoring loudly.] mei mei (whispering): "and here are the lovebirds! snorting and drooling all over each other. utahime is definitely going to remember this tomorrow. shoko? I sure hope so, because I can't go back to those constant longing stares, ugh!"

[the shot moves to shoko's room, focusing on haibara clinging to nanami like a lifeline.] mei mei (whispering): "and here's haibara, glued to his big, strong man who saved him from being gojo 2.0. nanami, ever the hero, still played babysitter. truly wholesome content."

[the video cuts back to mei mei, her face smug.] mei mei: "and that's a wrap! should I keep sending myself money off everyone's phones? hmm... haven’t I earned it? anyway, bye now!" 01:22 =================⬤ 01:22 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[revelboo]

just wanna say that i looooove the dating sim story concept, not only is it romantic, you've set up one hell of a mystery about who's organizing this interstellar game of bachelorette and why... can we get an update for that one, pretty please?

Sure!

Needs and Wants Pt 3

Misfire x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Tarn x Reader, Ratchet x Reader, Bluestreak x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader

• None of the other doors will open. You’d tried them all before returning to your quarters and giving in to the urge to try out that massive walk in shower in the bathroom attached to your room and all those bottles of scented oils and soaps. It feels like standing out in a warm summer rain, as you scrub yourself clean, shutting off the water and stepping out to realize the floors are heated under your bare feet when you dry yourself off with a towel and pull on a plush robe. Your mysterious benefactor has invested a lot of money in this setup and it makes you uneasy. What’s his angle here? What’s he getting out of playing matchmaker?

• Stepping into your bedroom, you freeze as your host looks up from draping a shimmery, loose garment over the foot of the big bed and you fist the front of your robe. “Wonderful,” he says as he straightens. “All of the arrangements have been made, if you’ll get changed, I can make the introductions and leave you to get acquainted with your potential matches.” Is he smiling? You think he is, but like before, his features and details about him keep slipping unsettlingly away. And you have the uneasy sense that he looks different when you’re not looking directly at him. Skin prickling, you force a smile and reach to touch the soft material. Feels expensive. Maybe you’re being recorded and this is the rich coots version of live reality entertainment?

• As he drifts out of the room, you squint around the room looking for cameras, but if you’re being spied on, they’re hidden too well. You still carry the shimmery garment into the bathroom to change, though. It’s loose on you, and shapeless. Unflattering and there’s a second piece suspiciously like a bridal veil that is sheer. Snorting, you put it on and stare at yourself in the mirror, deciding you look like an unattractive ghost. Finding a brush in a drawer, you remove the veil and work the tangles out of your hair before putting it back on, because if you refuse to follow your host’s weird rules, you might not get paid in the end if this doesn’t work out.

• Servos gripping his own arm, Bluestreak glances up at Ratchet and Wheeljack ahead of him then up at the space bridge as it hums to life. He’s never mass displaced before, but they all had to. Will have to stay this way for the month and he’s not sure why. Their potential mate must Cybertronian. Hears Ratchet’s disgruntled growl of ‘let’s get this nonsense over with’ before the medic steps through. Having to cautiously reach to nudge Wheeljack, the inventor’s head lifts from where he’d been distractedly sketching out an idea on his datapad. Vocal indicators sheepishly blinking, the other mech steps through and he’s left alone. Rubbing and picking at the paint on his arm, he follows them through.

• Venting as he’s forced forward, hands bound and that modulator still locked around his neck, forced to mass displace, he rumbles softly as he’s led to the space bridge. Furious as indignity after indignity is healed on him. Don’t they realize he’s just going to escape? Has no interest in playing this game, of finding a fated spark mate. There’s too much work to do and he can’t abandon his goal of peaceful tyranny in Megatron’s name. This is only a temporary setback. Servos flexing, he’s shoved through.

• Humming softly as he stretches his arms over his head, wings flaring, he wonders who the matchmaker has found him. And why he’d had to mass shift. Imagining a little femme, maybe even another Seeker. This is to save the dwindling Cybertronian race, after all. Spark thrumming, he steps through the space bridge toward his future.

• How much trouble can they possibly get into in a month? Staring at his cassettes looking up at him, especially Frenzy and Rumble grinning, Soundwave knows that a month is long enough for them to somehow burn the Nemesis to the ground. “Behave,” he rumbles tiredly. Maybe he can just run off the potential mate? Make them call it off since he can’t. If he can scare them off, he’ll be allowed to leave, this little experiment unsuccessful. A sound enough plan. How hard can it be to run off one femme? Mass shifting, he points at Frenzy and then Rumble. “Don’t destroy anything.” They’re still grinning up at him as he steps through the space bridge.

• Nerves thrumming, you wonder who he’s picked out for you to choose from. If they’re handsome. Kind. If you’ll even like them or if this will be painfully awkward. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and freeze. Staring at the things on the other side. Looming metal, alien monsters that turn and stare at you, frowning down at you. Heart racing, you scream and slam the door shut only to realize there’s no way to look it. Retreating across the room when someone knocks on the door, you’re shaking. What is this? This isn’t what you signed up for. What you’d wanted. What even are they? Not human. You can hear one of those things laughing on the other side of the door and a scandalized sounding ‘a human?’ Apparently they’re not happy either.

Previous

Next

[ryescapades-archived]

*ੈ‧₊༺ “ALL HIS GUNS WERE BLAZING,”

characters: narumi gen (kn8) x gn!reader contents: sfw, jealous!narumi, hint of ex!narumi, open ending wc ~ 600

a/n: CHAT I KNOW THIS SETUP IS REPETITIVE but i just couldn't help it ... anw, short break before i continue (and try) working on my 1k event ^_^ this was supposed to be the intro piece to the anon req about nrm and lana’s serene queen but i kinda stopped halfway ..

Narumi absolutely hates feeling like this.

It’s curling in the depth of his guts, writhing and squirming like parasites feeding on its host. His chest feels tight, as if there’s an iron fist controlling the way it beats, oppressive and ruthless and cruel. It’s green, it’s mucky, it’s repulsive.

He tries his damnedest to tear his eyes away, but the sight in front of him makes it impossible to do so. It burns. His heart burns. An emissary of his own tribulation, his focus continues to fix on the ravenous gazes feasting on you, trying to steal away all your attention that was meant only for him.

It used to be, at least.

The lights reflect from the crystals on the chandelier hanging above, highlighting all the glorious velvets and diamonds in the decorated ballroom. You stand in the small crowd of tattling officers and superiors alike, an expression of ease and cordiality stuck on your stunning face.

Playing nice during formal events such as this has never been his forte. Scandalmongers and… ass kissers (as he’d like to put it) hide behind sugary smiles and honeyed praises, seeking attention only to gain benefits of their own.

They get to the very end of his nerves, and the fact that he’s more or less required to attend these events make them even worse to be at. Not to mention the various threats from Hasegawa about throwing away his games if he doesn’t at least show his face here.

Forget about the kaijus, humanity itself is in another league of monstrosity.

As one of the strongest officers around, Narumi is subjected to being the center of all the gossip and envious stares. Men and women wish they were him, some even flocking themselves around him in hopes they’d eventually get the chance to be one of those in his orbit.

He couldn’t care less about those people though.

However, when it comes to you…

Narumi’s eye twitches again when the man you’re talking to steps just a tad bit closer, thinking you won’t notice such a subtle action. The audacity of that man? And it’s not just him, either. He’s all too aware of the vultures lurking around in the hall, hushedly whispering and eyeing you like you’re a piece of meat. He gets it. He really does.

You’re gorgeous, talented, ridiculously strong in all manners of combat, and you’re his, you’re his, you’re hi—

A sudden touch on his arm stops him short, a hand running itself down his bicep like it had any business doing so. He’s then reminded of the female officer from another division that has been on his ass for the past ten minutes, looking all too friendly as she continues to prattle on about her achievements in the Defense Force; a pathetic attempt at convincing him once again to vouch for her promotion to her own captain.

He wanted to push her away, wanted to rush off to the exit of this goddamn place to go back to the comfort of his office and spend time in the virtual world, but when his sensitive irises catch the telltale sign of discomfort on your face from the foreign and filthy hand trying to snake its way around your waist, he thinks his mind had blacked out from how unconsciously his next set of actions feels.

It’s like there’s a different entity taking over him, leading him to march towards where you are. The conversation you were having with the obnoxious man is halted, and you can barely get a word out before the captain pushes the officer off you, grabbing your hand in his before he drags you away into the night...

been sitting in my wip doc for like ,, idk Months

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[gilbertscurls]

tea parties and tiny chefs — matt sturniolo

summary: can you imagine him sitting down and letting your child serve him play pretend food from their mini kitchen?

The late afternoon sun poured through the living room windows, painting the space in warm golden hues. The soft hum of a distant cartoon played on the TV, but it was barely noticeable over the excited clinking of plastic plates and the babble of a very determined little chef.

Matt sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, watching with an amused smile as your daughter shuffled back and forth from her miniature play kitchen. She wore an oversized chef’s hat—one you were certain was originally white but had been aggressively “decorated” with rainbow markers—and a pink apron tied crookedly around her tiny frame.

“Okay, Mr. Daddy!” she announced, clutching a plastic teacup in one hand and a neon green plate in the other. “Your tea is ready, but it’s really hot, so you gotta blow on it!”

Matt’s lips twitched as he accepted the cup, holding it delicately between two fingers. He made an exaggerated show of blowing over the nonexistent steam, eyebrows raised like this was the most important task he’d ever been assigned.

“Phew, close one,” he said, his voice light with humor. “I almost burned my tongue there. This tea smells amazing, though. Did you steep it for…uh…five hours?”

Your daughter gasped, horrified. “No, silly! You don’t steep tea for five hours. Just three minutes. Everybody knows that.”

From your spot in the doorway, you stifled a laugh behind your hand. Matt caught your eye briefly, his smile softening, before he turned his attention back to his tiny host.

“Right, right. Three minutes. My bad, Chef.”

She nodded in satisfaction before placing the green plate in front of him. On it sat a mismatched assortment of plastic food—a yellow banana, a blue steak, and what looked like a pink cookie.

“This is a very special dinner,” she said with gravity. “You have to eat it all, even the cookie, because it has magic sprinkles.”

“Magic sprinkles? No way.”

“YES way.”

Matt gasped, clutching the plate like it held a priceless treasure. “I’m honored. I can’t believe you’d trust me with such an important cookie.”

Your daughter’s face lit up, her chubby cheeks glowing with pride, and for a moment, your heart swelled at the sight. Matt had always been so good with her—gentle, patient, and endlessly entertaining. It wasn’t just about humoring her; he enjoyed these moments. You could tell by the way he leaned into her imagination, matching her energy beat for beat.

You stepped forward then, joining them on the floor. “Chef, is there any food for me, or am I not on the reservation list?”

Your daughter’s head snapped up, her expression serious. “Oh no, Mommy. You don’t have a reservation. But I can squeeze you in…if you promise to tip well.”

Matt barked out a laugh, clutching the plastic teacup to his chest. “She’s already running a five-star restaurant. Watch out, world.”

The three of you spent the next hour huddled around the tiny kitchen setup, plates and cups being shuffled back and forth, fake vegetables and neon desserts being “devoured” with dramatic flair. Matt never once looked at his phone or seemed distracted. Every ounce of his attention was devoted to your daughter’s world of make-believe.

At one point, as your daughter busied herself “washing” dishes in the little plastic sink, Matt caught your eye again. His smile was softer now, quieter, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

Matt shrugged slightly, but his ears turned pink. “She makes it easy. And…it’s kind of nice to slow down like this. Just…be here.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart full.

Eventually, the little chef announced that the restaurant was closed for the night. With a dramatic yawn, she declared she was far too tired to cook one more thing. Matt scooped her up in one arm and carried her to the couch, where she nestled into his chest without hesitation.

You sat beside them, your head resting on Matt’s shoulder as your daughter’s sleepy breaths evened out.

In the golden light of the fading sun, with the soft weight of your child in Matt’s arms and his steady presence beside you, the world felt still. Peaceful.

And as Matt pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his eyes meeting yours over her sleeping form, he realized that moments like this—the quiet, simple ones—were the ones he’d treasure most.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

[lazysoulwriter]

Thirsty Tweets and Subtle Touches - Paul Mescal.ੈ♡˳

FIRST OF THE YEARR requested! hope you like it. feel free to send me requests! I might take a bit, but I swear I'll get it done! ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . ───

The set was buzzing with laughter and a hint of mischief. Y/N adjusted their mic as the camera crew made final preparations. Sitting between Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the trio radiated effortless charm. They had been promoting their new film for weeks, and this particular segment promised to be a memorable one.

“Alright, you three,” the host grinned, holding up a fishbowl of folded papers. “Ready to dive into the chaotic world of thirsty tweets?”

Paul leaned back with a chuckle, his hand casually brushing against Y/N’s arm. “Can’t wait. I’m sure Pedro’s got a fan base ready to leave us speechless.”

Pedro smirked, leaning toward Y/N. “Don’t let him fool you. Paul’s the real heartthrob here. Just wait.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shooting Paul a teasing glance. “Let’s see who gets the most blush-worthy tweet.”

The host pulled out the first tweet, reading with dramatic flair: “‘Paul Mescal could ruin my life, and I’d say thank you. Every time he wears a white tank top, I lose five years of emotional stability.’”

The room erupted in laughter as Paul pretended to be scandalized. “A white tank top, really? That’s what does it?”

Y/N leaned closer, their hand resting lightly on Paul’s thigh. “Don’t act surprised. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he glanced down at their hand briefly before turning back to the camera. “Caught red-handed, huh?”

The host, clearly loving the interaction, moved on to Pedro’s tweet. “‘Pedro Pascal could step on me, and I’d thank him. Actually, I’d beg for it.’”

Pedro’s laugh echoed through the room as he adjusted his jacket dramatically. “Finally, someone understands me.”

Y/N giggled. “See, this is why you’re the internet’s daddy.”

“Oh, we’re doing that, are we?” Pedro shot back with a mock-serious expression, pointing at Y/N. “Watch out. You’ll be next.”

The host shuffled the papers and read the next tweet. “‘If Y/N doesn’t realize they’re the hottest person alive, I might just scream. Also, their smile? Criminal. Arrest me immediately.’”

Paul placed a hand over his heart. “I’m with them. Honestly, Y/N, your smile should come with a warning.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but they played it cool. “You two are laying it on thick today. Is this what promotion does to people?”

“Promotion or honesty?” Paul quipped, his eyes sparkling.

Pedro leaned back, observing the palpable chemistry between Y/N and Paul. “You two should just get a room already. Seriously, the tension is suffocating.”

Paul’s response was immediate. “Why would we do that when we have a perfectly good audience to witness?” His hand shifted slightly, grazing Y/N’s fingers, and the two exchanged a look that could have melted the cameras.

As the tweets continued, each one seemed to heighten the dynamic. Pedro’s charisma kept the energy light and fun, but the underlying current between Paul and Y/N was undeniable. Every touch, every glance, felt deliberate but natural, leaving fans with plenty to dissect.

By the time they reached the final tweet, the host looked nearly out of breath from laughing. “Okay, one last one, and it’s a group effort. ‘If Pedro, Paul, and Y/N walked into my living room, I’d simply pass away. No funeral needed. Just vibes.’”

Pedro raised an eyebrow. “No funeral? Not even a memorial?”

Y/N nodded solemnly. “Just vibes. Seems fair.”

Paul leaned into the mic. “Well, we’d bring great vibes, so...”

The three shared a laugh, the chemistry and camaraderie evident as the segment wrapped up. As the cameras stopped rolling, Paul’s hand lingered on Y/N’s, his voice low. “Drinks after this?”

Y/N grinned. “Only if Pedro’s buying.”

Pedro groaned. “I knew this was a setup.”

[codingquill]

Welcome back, coding enthusiasts! Today we'll talk about Git & Github , the must-know duo for any modern developer. Whether you're just starting out or need a refresher, this guide will walk you through everything from setup to intermediate-level use. Let’s jump in!

What is Git?

Git is a version control system. It helps you as a developer:

Track changes in your codebase, so if anything breaks, you can go back to a previous version. (Trust me, this happens more often than you’d think!)

Collaborate with others : whether you're working on a team project or contributing to an open-source repo, Git helps manage multiple versions of a project.

In short, Git allows you to work smarter, not harder. Developers who aren't familiar with the basics of Git? Let’s just say they’re missing a key tool in their toolkit.

What is Github ?

GitHub is a web-based platform that uses Git for version control and collaboration. It provides an interface to manage your repositories, track bugs, request new features, and much more. Think of it as a place where your Git repositories live, and where real teamwork happens. You can collaborate, share your code, and contribute to other projects, all while keeping everything well-organized.

Git & Github : not the same thing !

Git is the tool you use to create repositories and manage code on your local machine while GitHub is the platform where you host those repositories and collaborate with others. You can also host Git repositories on other platforms like GitLab and BitBucket, but GitHub is the most popular.

Installing Git (Windows, Linux, and macOS Users)

You can go ahead and download Git for your platform from (git-scm.com)

Using Git

You can use Git either through the command line (Terminal) or through a GUI. However, as a developer, it’s highly recommended to learn the terminal approach. Why? Because it’s more efficient, and understanding the commands will give you a better grasp of how Git works under the hood.

GitWorkflow

Git operates in several key areas:

Working directory (on your local machine)

Staging area (where changes are prepared to be committed)

Local repository (stored in the hidden .git directory in your project)

Remote repository (the version of the project stored on GitHub or other hosting platforms)

Let’s look at the basic commands that move code between these areas:

git init: Initializes a Git repository in your project directory, creating the .git folder.

git add: Adds your files to the staging area, where they’re prepared for committing.

git commit: Commits your staged files to your local repository.

git log: Shows the history of commits.

git push: Pushes your changes to the remote repository (like GitHub).

git pull: Pulls changes from the remote repository into your working directory.

git clone: Clones a remote repository to your local machine, maintaining the connection to the remote repo.

Branching and merging

When working in a team, it’s important to never mess up the main branch (often called master or main). This is the core of your project, and it's essential to keep it stable.

To do this, we branch out for new features or bug fixes. This way, you can make changes without affecting the main project until you’re ready to merge. Only merge your work back into the main branch once you're confident that it’s ready to go.

Getting Started: From Installation to Intermediate

Now, let’s go step-by-step through the process of using Git and GitHub from installation to pushing your first project.

Configuring Git

After installing Git, you’ll need to tell Git your name and email. This helps Git keep track of who made each change. To do this, run:

Master vs. Main Branch

By default, Git used to name the default branch master, but GitHub switched it to main for inclusivity reasons. To avoid confusion, check your default branch:

Pushing Changes to GitHub

Let’s go through an example of pushing your changes to GitHub.

First, initialize Git in your project directory:

Then to get the ‘untracked files’ , the files that we haven’t added yet to our staging area , we run the command

Now that you’ve guessed it we’re gonna run the git add command , you can add your files individually by running git add name or all at once like I did here

And finally it's time to commit our file to the local repository

Now, create a new repository on GitHub (it’s easy , just follow these instructions along with me)

Assuming you already created your github account you’ll go to this link and change username by your actual username : https://github.com/username?tab=repositories , then follow these instructions :

You can add a name and choose wether you repo can be public or private for now and forget about everything else for now.

Once your repository created on github , you’ll get this :

As you might’ve noticed, we’ve already run all these commands , all what’s left for us to do is to push our files from our local repository to our remote repository , so let’s go ahead and do that

And just like this we have successfully pushed our files to the remote repository

Here, you can see the default branch main, the total number of branches, your latest commit message along with how long ago it was made, and the number of commits you've made on that branch.

Now what is a Readme file ?

A README file is a markdown file where you can add any relevant information about your code or the specific functionality in a particular branch—since each branch can have its own README.

It also serves as a guide for anyone who clones your repository, showing them exactly how to use it.

You can add a README from this button:

Or, you can create it using a command and push it manually:

But for the sake of demonstrating how to pull content from a remote repository, we’re going with the first option:

Once that’s done, it gets added to the repository just like any other file—with a commit message and timestamp.

However, the README file isn’t on my local machine yet, so I’ll run the git pull command:

Now everything is up to date. And this is just the tiniest example of how you can pull content from your remote repository.

What is .gitignore file ?

Sometimes, you don’t want to push everything to GitHub—especially sensitive files like environment variables or API keys. These shouldn’t be shared publicly. In fact, GitHub might even send you a warning email if you do:

To avoid this, you should create a .gitignore file, like this:

Any file listed in .gitignore will not be pushed to GitHub. So you’re all set!

Cloning

When you want to copy a GitHub repository to your local machine (aka "clone" it), you have two main options:

Clone using HTTPS: This is the most straightforward method. You just copy the HTTPS link from GitHub and run:

It's simple, doesn’t require extra setup, and works well for most users. But each time you push or pull, GitHub may ask for your username and password (or personal access token if you've enabled 2FA).

But if you wanna clone using ssh , you’ll need to know a bit more about ssh keys , so let’s talk about that.

Clone using SSH (Secure Shell): This method uses SSH keys for authentication. Once set up, it’s more secure and doesn't prompt you for credentials every time. Here's how it works:

So what is an SSH key, actually?

Think of SSH keys as a digital handshake between your computer and GitHub.

Your computer generates a key pair:

A private key (stored safely on your machine)

A public key (shared with GitHub)

When you try to access GitHub via SSH, GitHub checks if the public key you've registered matches the private key on your machine.

If they match, you're in — no password prompts needed.

Steps to set up SSH with GitHub:

Generate your SSH key:

2. Start the SSH agent and add your key:

3. Copy your public key:

Then copy the output to your clipboard.

Add it to your GitHub account:

Go to GitHub → Settings → SSH and GPG keys

Click New SSH key

Paste your public key and save.

5. Now you'll be able to clone using SSH like this:

From now on, any interaction with GitHub over SSH will just work — no password typing, just smooth encrypted magic.

And there you have it ! Until next time — happy coding, and may your merges always be conflict-free! ✨👩‍💻👨‍💻

[rhiannonsknife]

── ❆ DAY 04: christmas with shauna shipman

— summary: christmas with shauna shipman hcs.

— warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff. established relationship. not a warning but shauna’s mom is a sweetheart in this. gn!reader. the last hc turned into its own little blurb, i fear…

the shipmans and their holiday traditions and habits…

shauna’s mom takes holiday decorating very seriously. the moment the clock strikes midnight on december 1st, she’s on a mission. boxes of tinsel, lights, ornaments, and wreaths are hauled out from the garage, and she’s already made a list of things she needs to buy to outdo last year’s setup. shauna insists she’s not a christmas fanatic like her mom. “it’s too commercialized,” she claims with a dismissive wave. still, you catch her humming along to christmas songs on the radio when she thinks you’re not paying attention. and once, when you glanced over at her watching tv, you realized she wasn’t just mindlessly flipping through channels; she was fully engrossed in some cheesy holiday commercial. when her mom found out about the two of you, it didn’t take long before you were roped into the shipman family holiday traditions. “more hands make light work!” she’d chirped, thrusting a box of ornaments into your arms before you even had a chance to decline. now, as far as shauna’s mom is concerned, you’re part of the christmas prep team, and there’s no escaping it. “y/n,” shauna’s mom calls to you, standing on a stepladder as she adjusts a string of lights. “do you think this looks okay, or does it need more sparkle?”

“uh…” you glance at shauna, who smirks. “looks great to me!”

“don’t encourage her,” shauna mutters under her breath, sliding an arm around your waist. “next thing you know, she’ll be ordering glitter spray for the whole house!”

speaking of which: going to the christmas tree farm with shauna and her mom.

the place is already bustling with families when you arrive, the air crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. rows upon rows of evergreens stretch out before you, their branches snow-dusted. shauna’s mom heads off to inspect the taller trees, leaving you and shauna alone to wander through the rows. “okay, which one screams ‘shipman family christmas’ to you?” she asks, gesturing dramatically at the nearest row of trees. you pause, pretending to consider. “that one,” you say, pointing to a sad, crooked little tree that’s missing half its branches. shauna narrows her eyes at you. “you’re joking, right?” her lip is twitching as if she’s trying not to laugh. “absolutely not. It’s got…character” she counters immediately: “it’s got issues! come on, we’re not bringing that home!” eventually, after hours of roaming the rows of trees, you do settle for one: shauna stops in front of a tall, full tree with perfectly spaced branches and deep green needles. “what about this one?” she asks, glancing at you for approval. you nod, smiling. “it’s perfect!” shauna grins, clearly pleased with herself. “knew it!”

holiday nights with shauna and the yellowjackets.

the yellowjackets throw a holiday party this year (it’s always jackie or lottie who hosts it, of course). when shauna invites you to come along, she reassures you with a small smile, “don’t worry, i’ll stick with you. they’re not that scary.” and, true to her word, she stays by your side the entire night, guiding you through conversations and quietly explaining inside jokes when you feel out of place!! at dinner, she makes sure you sit next to her, her hand brushing yours under the table whenever she senses your nerves bubbling up. ever so often, she catches your eye, giving you a small, reassuring smile that grounds you and reminds you that she’s grateful that you’re there with her <33

later in the evening, when everyone has finished their food and jackie starts rallying everyone for a game of charades, shauna gently tugs your sleeve. “come on,” she lures, her voice low. she leads you out the back door to sit on the cold steps, away from the chaos inside. the sharp winter air bites at your cheeks, and you can see your breath misting in front of you as you both laugh softly, huddled close together for warmth. she drapes an arm over your shoulder, offering her jacket for you to wear.

“i’m really glad you came tonight,” she says quietly, her knee brushing against yours. as the muffled sounds of the others continue inside, shauna reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours again. this time, she doesn’t pull away or has to hide. instead, she lets your hand settle into hers, her thumb tracing small circles against your skin.

shauna, whose presents are always bordering on too perfect.

she pays attention to all the little things you’ve mentioned wanting, even in passing. she’ll take mental notes of every fleeting comment you make, tucking them away for when she has the chance to surprise you, whether this is for christmas or your birthday (or any other occasion). yet, when it’s time for her to open her own gifts, shauna is endearingly shy about it. no matter how small the present is, she’ll blush furiously either way, hiding her face behind her hands for a moment as though to collect herself. then, she’ll wrap you in a tight hug, murmuring how much she loves it (and you). her soft spots are 100% handmade gifts: even the ‘smallest’ things, like a handwritten note or a card you decorated yourself, mean the world to her. she keeps every single one of them tucked between the pages of her journal so that, on the nights when she feels particularly overwhelmed, she can flip through them, tracing the edges of the paper and rereading your words as a quiet reminder of how much she’s loved. other than that, you definitely get her new clothes (like a new signature flannel) or a burned cd with all of her favorite songs!!

stealing shauna’s cozy, knitted sweaters and/or flannels.

okay i’m definitely projecting here, but maybe you’re always dressed in only a shirt/top even though it’s freezing outside. shauna doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or concerned by your complete disregard for the freezing weather. it’s the middle of winter, and while everyone else is layered up in jackets and scarves, you’re walking around like it’s spring. you practically leave her no other option but to offer her clothes. she doesn’t mind the cold at all and she always has to make sure you’re bundled up. “are you actively trying to get hypothermia?” (…🧍🏼‍♀️) she mutters, already taking off her own flannel before you can protest. shauna drapes it over your shoulders, tugging it snug around you before you can argue. “don’t even start,” she says firmly when you try to give it back. “i’m fine. you, on the other hand, are a walking ice cube” (you know, now that i’m thinking about it, maybe this wasn’t the best shauna headcanon…) it becomes a habit after that: if you’re underdressed, shauna is quick to shove one of her jackets or sweaters at you. sometimes it’s a hoodie she pulled from her bag, other times, it’s something she’s wearing herself. she doesn’t say much about it -just rolls her eyes and hands it over with a soft, “put this on before you freeze to death” (okay now i’m pushing it) what shauna won’t admit, at least not out loud, is how much she secretly loves the way you look in her clothes: her oversized sweater hanging off your frame, or the sleeves of her jacket covering your hands!! the sight sends a little flutter through her chest every time she sees it!!

shauna, who might be really good at picking presents for her loved ones…

…but who procrastinates until the very last minute, which is weird, because she’s usually so determined to get everything done in time. so christmas shopping really seem to be the only exception here. a few days before christmas, she’ll call you with a casual “hey, do you want to come to the mall? i need help!” which really means she wants someone to keep her company while she panics over what to get jackie, tai, and the rest of the team (yours is the only present she already had prepared long ago.) it doesn’t come as a surprise that the mall is a nightmare of holiday chaos, and shauna grumbles about it the moment you walk through the doors: “why do people wait until the last minute?” she mutters, completely ignoring the irony in it. and, oh, by the time you’ve wandered through literally every store in the packed mall, you’re loaded with more shopping bags than you thought you could physically carry. “thank you for putting up with me” she tells you back in the car. before you can respond, she presses a soft kiss to your cheek “i owe you. big time!”

shauna who takes you on walks through the neighborhood.

once the first snow falls and her neighbors have put up their decorations, she loves bundling up and walking through your neighborhood with you; her gloved hand is snug in yours as your boots crunch softly against the frosty sidewalk. the air smells crisp and your breath comes out in little clouds as you both take in the glow of twinkling christmas lights decorating every other house. “okay, but why does that santa look like that?” shauna asks, nodding toward a giant inflatable santa slumped slightly forward, his grin crooked. you laugh, tugging her hand lightly. “it’s supposed to be…festive, i guess” “festive?” she echoes. “that thing belongs in a horror movie. if it starts moving, i’m running!” it’s always like that with the two of you; either enjoying your walk and the other’s company or occasionally poking fun at the neighbors’ decorations.

shauna, who spontaneously spends the night at your place because you’re snowed in.

at this point, your parents are used to shauna hanging around, especially since you two have been dating for a while. they wave it off without a second thought, telling you both to help yourselves to the kitchen if you need anything. “i guess that means I’m stuck with you,” you tease, already heading to the living room, where the fire in the fireplace crackles warmly. shauna follows behind, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “you’re lucky,” she grins. you smile too and grab the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over both of you as you settle in beside her. shauna leans against you, her usual teasing demeanor melting away in the warmth of the room. “everything okay?” you ask, glancing at her. shauna shifts slightly, her voice quieter than it normally is. “yeah” she assures. “just…i’m glad i’m here. with you, i mean!”

okay but winter mornings with shauna?

on the mornings when the weather is especially cold, shauna will wrap herself around you like a blanket. her arms are snug around your waist, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against your back before you’re fully awake yet. you stir slightly, shifting in her hold, and shauna tightens her grip with a quiet, drowsy murmur. “don’t move,” she mumbles, her voice muffled and still thick with sleep. “you’re warm. and it’s freezing” you can’t help but smile, turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her messy hair and soft, half-closed eyes. shauna’s face is pressed against the curve of your shoulder, her nose brushing against your skin with a cold touch that makes you shiver slightly. “good morning to you too,” you tease, your voice hushed in the early quiet of the room. “mhm,” she hums, her lips curling into a faint smile as she nuzzles closer, her legs tangling lazily with yours beneath the blankets. “too early for mornings. let’s just stay here!”

snowball fights with shauna are inevitable.

she claims that she’s ‘above it’ but will surprise you with a sneak attack the moment you let your guard down. “we’re not twelve” she’ll say with a dramatic sigh, though the grin she’s trying so hard to oppress instantly gives her away: the second you turn your back to collect some snow for your own ammunition, shauna pounces and a snowball slams into the back of your head. you whip around to find her already grinning at you. you retaliate by tackling her into the ground next: sprinting at her, breaths coming out in clouds, and launching yourself right into shauna, tackling her to the snow-covered ground. shauna lets out a yelp of surprise, but the moment you hit the snow together, the laughter comes; loud and contagious. once it started, she can’t seem to stop, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and the giggles.

shauna who also insists on taking you ice skating.

we‘ve talked about ice skating with jackie, but i feel like shauna would also want to take you out on some fun christmassy couple‘s activities. except that, for some reason, i can’t picture her being as good at it as jackie is. in fact, you both end up stumbling all over the icy rink, giggling and laughing the entire time as you try to hold each other up right: the rink is lit up with christmas lights strung along the edges, and holiday music plays faintly over the speakers. it’s the perfect kind of cheesy, festive date, and honestly, you’re surprised shauna wanted to do this in the first place. she usually rolls her eyes at stuff like this, calling it ‘too cliché’.

“okay, full disclosure,” she says as she laces up her skates. “i haven’t done this since i was, like, eight. so…don’t judge me if i totally suck!” as soon as you step onto the ice, though, it becomes obvious that neither of you are good at this. the moment shauna’s skates touch the rink, her legs wobble, and she grabs your arm with a laugh. “oh my god, this is worse than i remember!”

the two of you end up shuffling awkwardly across the ice, your movements more like walking than skating. every so often, one of you slips, sending the other off-balance, and you both collapse into fits of giggles.

christmas eve with shauna!

spending christmas eve at her house is quiet and cozy. the living room smells faintly of cinnamon and pine from the tree her mom insists on putting up every year. you’re curled up on the couch together under a shared blanket, watching cheesy christmas movies that her mom picked out before disappearing into the kitchen to finish wrapping some final presents. shauna pretends to hate them (“how many times can two people accidentally bump into each other under the mistletoe?”) but is absolutely humming along to the soundtrack by the end of the night. she’s also made it her mission of the night to steal sips of your hot chocolate every chance she gets, even though she has her own mug sitting untouched on the coffee table. “yours tastes better,” she insists with a grin, leaning in to take another sip before you can protest. by the end of the night, her head is on your shoulder, her hand resting lazily on your thigh beneath the blanket. she’s stopped trailing circles a while ago and, as the credits of the last movie roll, you’re almost sure she’s fallen asleep. that’s also when her mom finally reappears. she pauses in the doorway, smiling at the sight of the two of you curled up together <33

but also; christmas dinner with shauna.

when mom invites you to christmas dinner for the first time, you’re SO nervous about making a good impression! you know she already adores you: she’s always been kind, welcoming, and maybe a little too interested in whether or not shauna’s “special friend” would be joining them, before she figured you two out. (let me have my moment and believe that her mom would be your biggest supporter ever!!). but this is christmas dinner. a different level entirely.

“i don’t know why i’m so nervous,” you mutter as you smooth out your sweater for the hundredth time in shauna’s bedroom. “i mean, your mom already likes me…right?” shauna, sitting on the bed and watching you fuss, laughs. “likes you? she’s obsessed with you. you could probably drop the whole meal on the floor, and she’d laugh it off!” you roll your eyes, swatting at her playfully. “not funny! this is important. it’s christmas! what if i screw it up somehow?”

shauna stands and walks over, her hands gently finding your waist to stop your nervous fidgeting. “you’re not going to screw it up. she already loves you, trust me. but…” her voice drops into a teasing whisper as she leans in close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “compliment her mashed potatoes. trust me on this one!”

you blink. “her…mashed potatoes?”

“yep!” shauna grins and pulls back, giving you an exaggerated wink. “it’s her signature christmas dish. she’ll melt. works every time.”

“you’ve tested this theory before, i take it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “oh, absolutely,” shauna says, deadpan. “it’s practically a rite of passage in this house!”

she remains right, as it turns out, and the dinner goes on smoothly once you’ve gotten through the initial nerves about it.

shauna keeps finding little ways to steady you regardless, grounding you in her own quiet, way. a squeeze of your hand under the table, her knee brushing against yours. at one point, she even reaches over to brush a stray hair out of your face, her thumb lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“you’re doing great,” she whispers during a lull in conversation, her lips curving into that soft smile she saves just for you.

by the time dessert rolls around the nervousness that had gripped you at the start of the evening are completely gone. shauna’s hand is still in yours under the table, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. when her mom leans across the table to pat your shoulder and say: “we’re so lucky to have you here this year,” you feel your heart swell.

later, when you’re helping shauna load the dishwasher, you turn to her with a small, sheepish smile. “okay,” you admit proudly “you were right. she does like me”

shauna snorts, nudging your shoulder. “told you so. she loves you more than me at this point. i should be worried!”

“never,” you say softly, and before you know it, she’s leaning down to press a quick, tender kiss to your lips. “merry christmas” she mumbles and you can feel her smile against your mouth without needing to open your eyes.

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 7 - Final)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Summary ─ A couple of months after Jake’s (Evan’s friend) tragic accident left him fighting for his life in intensive care, Evan is spiralling, lost in despair, a shadow of his former self. Just as a sliver of good news about his condition offers a ray of hope, Y/N steps in, determined to bring some light into Evan’s shattered world. She starts with a seductive dance and builds to a night of passion. But Evan has a surprise—one that will change everything in a way Y/N never saw coming.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, lap dance, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, missionary, extra smutty—like you like it.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5 | Read Part 6

Word count ─ 5.1K (I had a lot to say 🤫)

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Previously on: How I met Evan Peters (Part 6)

“W-what’s up, Jeremy?” he stutters, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s Jake,” Jeremy blurts out, his expression twisting into one of anguish. “He’s fallen off the roof.” Jeremy’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the colour draining from Evan’s face. The room goes deathly quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. The room spins as everything comes to a screeching halt.

Two months after Jake’s accident 

Thursday, 16:42 pm 

You settle into the cosy corner of his New York apartment, the city’s hustle muffled by the soft hum of the radiator. A rustic wooden desk hosting your work setup and a quirky lamp, which has seen better days but adds to the character, stands against the wall. A plush bean bag chair invites you to sink in while a baroque rug sprawls beneath your feet, and a bookshelf stuffed with books and random knick-knacks lurks by your side. Sunlight streams through light, breezy curtains, making it a perfect workspace for your remote routine. With Evan busy with press and meetings for the next few weeks, this place feels almost like a retreat—if only you could shake off the looming frustration of the Excel table before you.

You’d think by now you’d have mastered the art of not losing your shit at work, being the corporate girlie you are, while dealing with this stupid spreadsheet, but nope. Here you are, puffing like the Big Bad Wolf trying to blow down formulas that refuse to behave.

As you’re fighting and suffering through, your hand drifts toward your phone. You know how it goes. Brain’s fried, and next thing you know, you’re aimlessly scrolling through the endless pit of Instagram reels without even realising it. Well, this time it’s Evan’s name glowing like a beacon of your favourite “distraction,” and your stomach flutters, your heart racing.

Oh, hello, messages!

You open the chat, expecting a quick “I’ll be back in 10’, baby. Can’t wait to kiss you” text or maybe a meme about cats judging people (you know, standard fare). Instead, what do you find? A picture. But not just any picture. Oh no, this man, YOUR man, is standing there in a white tee, his pose giving swagger “yo” next to Todd McFarlane, a comic book legend. The whole shebang.

And here comes the string of messages:

“Babyyyy, look - Todd McFarlane in da house for the press conference!!” 

“he’s signed the Amazing Spider-Man hardcopy!!” 

“ill bring it home and we frame it ;)” 

“we’re going live.. tune in xx” 

“changed into the blazer and stripy tee you picked for me. Love you so ♥️”

Let’s pause here. Not at Todd McFarlane – who, mind you, is hands-down a god in his domain, but no. Your eyes, traitors that they are, keep sliding back to that picture of Evan.

Because damn.

Todd’s cool and all, but Evan in that white tee and messy curls? Where do you even begin? The man looks like he rolled out of bed straight into a photoshoot and decided to smoulder for no apparent reason. You know the one—that half-cocked sly smile that screams, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing to do, and you’re welcome.”

You catch yourself zooming in and drooling over him like a total goofball. The scrunched-up grimace. The luscious Tarzan hair. The way his eyes carry a hint of sadness and fatigue but with residues of that familiar spark he always has. It’s weird how something as simple as a picture can make your heart do that silly backflip thing over and over again after more than a year with him. 

Snap out of it, girl. Spreadsheet’s waiting. But no, instead of getting back to formulas, your brain takes a little detour down Memory Lane. Suddenly, you’re remembering the last time Evan was kneeling in front of you. Not in some adorable, “let me tie your shoes, princess” way, but more of an arousing “let me worship you, queen,” Roman Empire situation.

Oh, yeah. That night. 

You’d seized your throne aka that big armchair in the middle of the dimly-lit living room. And there he was, on his knees, completely surrendered to you. His tongue was lapping on your wet folds like you were the sweetest cake frosting he’d ever tasted. His slender fingers were plumping in and out of you in all the right spots as he slurped up your syrups and juices, sucking on your clit like it’s cherry on dessert.

His tongue would thrash and french kiss your puffy sobbing walls up near the throbbing bulb of your sensitive clit. You tugged on his hair, his brown curls wrapped around your fingers like reins as he pulled you apart, inch by inch. Your jaw tightened as his tongue and fingers mercilessly rutted into you, giving you crazed whiplash as you squirt, all while licking you clean with eager choked moans. 

Your body tremors and orgasmic vibrations were seismic… just like they are now as your cunt pulsates and aches for him, even though you’re sitting at the dining table, fully clothed and miles away from him. 

Funny how memories can sneak up on you like that, isn’t it?

But here’s the kicker. As much as you’d love for a repeat performance, that’s not where you guys are at these days. Not since Jake fell off the roof at the party he hosted at his place. You get it–one of Evan’s best friends is in a hospital bed, clinging to life while in a coma, and Evan’s drowning in his own sea of emotions and sorrow. The man is dragging so much weight on his shoulders right now. 

And you respect that. You really do. Your sex life has justifiably taken a backseat, but you’re not here to push or force him. What you have and share with him isn’t mere lust; you love him, and you acknowledge that he’s having it rough at the moment. You’ve been trying to be his rock, the one who keeps him grounded while he navigates the heavy blizzard of the tragedy. 

But you can’t help it. 

Sometimes, your mind slips back to those sizzling moments where your bodies speak in a language only you two comprehend. Because, let’s be real—he might be wearing the blazer you chose for him in the morning, but under all that fabric, you’re the one who gets to undress the real Evan. And if that’s not worth waiting for, you don’t know what is.

You sigh, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, but you’ve left the spreadsheets and work far behind with all those cheeky little fantasies that gnaw on your brain. Still knee-deep in wet daydreams of Evan and his—well, *coughing* talents, when the universe decides to slap you in the face with reality. 

That “we’re going live, tune in xx” text blinks back at you from the chat, practically yelling to stop fantasising and actually be the supportive girlfriend you claim to be. 

Gasp.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Gasp again.

The press conference! You need to watch it. Like, now. 

You scramble up from the table so fast, you’d think the chair is lava, and launch into a desperate hunt for the TV remote. The remote is like a cryptid—always hiding in the most inconvenient places at the worst times. Last week? In the fridge. Don’t ask. Today? Who knows. You’re flipping couch cushions like you’re on an archaeological dig.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelp, your high-pitched voice bouncing off the walls like you’re a banshee in panic mode. Female rage core.

Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. It’s like the remote’s decided to pack its bags and set off to Narnia with no return ticket.

Curse you, technology masterminds.

Plan B. 

You rush back to your laptop, slide your fingers along the trackpad to wake it up, and—oh no, what’s this? Your whole screen’s been hijacked by the most evil of phrases:

Software Update: 30% Complete.

Are. You. For. Real. 

You stare at the loading bar like you can will it to go faster. Or pretend you’re not watching, so it speeds up. Smart but nah, that’s placebo—no such luck. This thing is moving slower than a Monday morning during rush hours, and if you wait for it, you’ll be watching Evan’s interview in the past tense or through his narration once he’s back home. 

You let out a huff that could probably power a small wind turbine and whip out your phone, praying to every deity that your Wi-Fi doesn’t fail you amidst crisis. 

“Come on, come on,” you mutter through gritted teeth, frantically tapping apps like your fingers are on caffeine overload. And just when you think someone is playing another cruel trick on you—boom, there it is. The live stream. 

The screen lights up, and there comes baby Evan on stage, looking all sleek and profesh in his blazer (you knew the combo with the stripes underneath would work wonders *proud stylist smiling*). He’s sitting on a stool along with his co-stars, all of them gathered in this massive amphitheatre for their upcoming movie press tour. 

He’s got the mic in his hand, finishing up a sentence with that smooth, husky tone. You know, that voice that sounds like a lullaby wrapped in velvet. But there’s also the twist of dorky humour and the cute brow furrows he taps into when he’s either totally in his element or way too awkward. 

The interviewer gives him a nod, then sighs. Your stomach drops.

The next question is about Jake, as he’s guy well known for scripting some of the most beloved TV shows. If there were a Hall of Fame for TV writers, his star would be as big as a small planet. He’s adored by fandoms for his wit and creativity, and now you’re all grappling with the fallout from his misfortune.

You can see the shift in Evan’s face from media charm to something… darker, melancholic. He’s trying so hard to stay composed, but you know him. That tiny flicker of anguish behind his eyes filters through the cracks.

Evan takes a sharp breath and clears his throat. “Yeah, Jake was moved from LA and remains in ICU here in New York,” he admits, voice steady but edged with quiet vulnerability. “But there’s… a... there’s a glimmer of hope. He moved his hand today.”

For a second, the world stops spinning. Did he just say—? He moved?!

Your heart does a somersault, and you can’t help it—you cheer and clap right along with the audience, even though you’re alone in the living room in your mismatched socks, overstretched yoga shorts, and messy bun. Who cares, honestly? Jake moved his hand. 

Evan lets the crowd’s enthusiasm bubble up for a second before he delicately taming it. “It’s good news,” he continues, his voice like a fuzzy blanket, soothing yet cautious. “But let’s not start planning the parade just yet—there’s a long road ahead for him. We’ll have to see how his health evolves from here. I just wanted to share this little nugget of hope. His family’s already spreading the word, and they gave me the green light to pass it on to all of you.”

There’s a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he’s got a fortress built around his emotions, probably fighting not to let it crumble in front of all those people and cameras. Your baby’s always been strong like steel this way, the type who carries everyone’s baggage on his shoulders without ever letting on how heavy it is. 

You sit there, phone in hand, staring at his face on the screen. There’s so much going on behind those eyes, and you know he probably feels like crap underneath that calm exterior. 

You wish you could reach through the screen and just be there with him in a “I’ve got you, you’re not alone” kind of way. You’ve been weathering this storm together, and it’s been tough as hell. It’s taken everything in him just to stay afloat, but he’s doing it. He’s really doing it...

There’s something about post-work Thursdays that sends you into this frantic, impulsive must-clean-everything-in-sight mode. Not that Evan cares if there’s a pile of laundry in the corner or if the dishes are threatening to stage a rebellion in the sink, but still. He doesn’t expect you to tackle it all just because you’re working fully from home; he can do it himself, but you want the place to look neat and tidy. You know, like “I have my life together and didn’t just spend the last two hours binge-watching cooking videos on YouTube” level of very demure, very mindful adulthood.

So here you are, in full-on cleaning tornado mode—scrubbing the counter with the kind of intensity that could probably burn calories—when your ears perk at the rustling sound. 

That magical jingle of keys. The ignition. The click of the door unlocking.

Baby Evan’s home.

You drop the sponge like it’s on fire and just bolt. You don’t even think. It’s pure instinct, like you’re a puppy who heard the treat jar open. Your pulse leaps, your feet fly, and before you know it, you’re flinging the front door open just as he steps in. And there he is.

Your man. Your whole heart.

He’s got his arms full—takeout bags in one hand, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking more mouth-watering than anything that could possibly be in those containers. His hair’s a little ruffled, his shirt rumpled from the day, but to you, he might as well be walking straight out of a rom-com.

“EVIEEEE!” you squeal, pouncing at him with the enthusiasm of a kid on a sugar high.

“Whoa!” he chuckles heartily, catching you mid-air. He spins you around even though you can sense the stiffness in his body as he battles not to drop the dinner. He’s out of breath, but he holds you tight, like he’s afraid to let go. His backpack slides down his arm, and for a second, you’re just tangled together—glued around him, his hands grasping on you firmly.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” he teases, his voice hoarse from the long day. But you can see it in his eyes—he’s just as hyped to be back in your little cocoon as you are. 

“You have no idea,” you breathe, and before you can utter anything else, his lips are on yours, kissing you like he’s been starved for weeks. You’re pretty sure you hear the bags crinkle between you two, but whatever… they can wait.

It’s not just a kiss. Oh no, this is the you-just-got-kissed-senseless kind that says, “I’m never letting you out of my reach again.” It’s deep and sloppy, and you feel it all the way down your toes. Little lewd moans escape your bodies as your tongues greet each other, swirling around in a lustful dance. He tastes like toffee, baby powder, warmth, comfort, and home.

You melt into each other, completely forgetting about the bags or the fact that you’ve still got soap on your hands. You twirl faster together as his hands mischievously squeeze your ass, making you giggle into his mouth.

“I was counting the hours to get to you, Y/N, and time was a total bitch today,” he grumbles, and it’s a husky purr near the nape of your neck. Your plump lips curl into an “awh, my poor baby” pout, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you swarm his face with little pecks. 

When he finally sets you down, you’re both grinning like idiots. Your heart’s doing cartwheels, and your stomach feels like you’ve swallowed a whole bunch of butterflies. You missed him. Not just having him around, but all the little things tied in—his laugh, his hands on you, the way he stares at you like you’re a precious gem.

Closing the door behind you, you pace together towards the kitchen, and get the itch to drop the question, “Did Jake really move?” Your voice is hopeful, but there’s a little tinge of fear there too. You know how much this means to Evan, so you need to tread about cautiously.

He pauses, chucking his backpack aside before turning to you. His eyes soften, and he nods, stepping closer. His hands find your waist again, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Yeah. He really did.”

Before you can even process the relief, Evan’s lips are on yours again, soft whimpers rolling off him. This time, the kiss is slower, more tender like silky ribbons on your mouth. His lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, his breath tingly against your heated skin. “Gosh, how much I needed you today,” he whispers between kisses, his voice dense with emotion as he presses his mouth lower, toward the neckline of your sports bra. His fingers gently graze your sides and rest on your hip bones before massaging your ass, and your breath hitches.

You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension melt out of him as his body leans into yours. “Me too,” you huff out, because honestly, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath all day, just waiting for him to come home.

But then you pull away slightly, the thought of Jake scratching the back of your mind. “Can we go see him now?”

Evan sighs, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm and steady. “Not tonight,” he exhales, taking a couple of steps back. “It’s just family. They wanna keep it low with the visits.”

You shake your head in acknowledgment, nervously biting your fingernail. You get it—you really do—but there’s still that little sting of disappointment tugging at your chest. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, glancing over at you again as he tears the bags apart and unpacks the food. “We’ll try tomorrow afternoon. His family’s still adjusting, but I’ll talk to them.”

The relief that washes over you is like a pleasant, summer breeze, calming your frayed nerves. Tomorrow. You let out a breathy, “Okay, great,” your shoulders finally loosening. As you approach him to help dispose of the bags, Evan’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist in one quick, playful motion, pulling you flush against him. 

You barely have time to gasp before his lips crash against yours, his tongue barging in your mouth without warning, assaulting yours in tantalising ways that are better left unsaid. You loop your arms around the back of his head and drag him closer, your tits cushioning his shredded chest.

“Don’t leave, please,” he hushes, his lips caressing yours. His voice is huskier now, a bit rougher around the edges, and you can feel the warmth from his body merging with yours. His free hand slips down to the supple flesh of your waist again, fingers curling just under the hem of your top to tuck underneath.

You smirk against his mouth, tilting your head slightly. “You know, we do live together, sir” you tease, playfully pinching the tip of his nose.

“That’s a reminder in case you forgot,” he quips, nuzzling into the slope of your neck. His broad shoulders are curved over you from behind like a shield, throwing every organ in your body on high alert, your heart drumming violently.

He pulls back, and before you can react, he gives your ass a quick, cheeky smack that makes you jump. Your mouth drops open in surprise, but he just grins smugly, like he’s fully aware of what he’s done, and he’s proud of it.

“Hey!” you whimper, swatting at him, but there’s no denying your pulse thumps fiercely.

“What?” he squeaks sheepishly, throwing his hands up in exasperation, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “You look too good to keep my hands off. Plus, guess who was stuck in my head the whole day. Hint—it’s not the burgers,” he fires back, waggling his eyebrows at you. 

You roll your eyes comically, but your heartbeat is up now. There’s something about the way he’s staring down at you—like he’s hungry, and it’s not just for the takeout. You notice it when he leans in again, this time with a heat that wasn’t there a moment ago. His lips trace a line of open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your fingers twist around his shirt, gripping it, as his hands roam a little lower, tugging you closer until you can feel every ounce of him pressed against you.

“Speaking of burgers, if food’s your love language, then you’re speaking mine fluently,” you chuckle, but the second you catch the look Evan gives you—whoa, buddy. Food’s officially second on his menu. His eyes are a pair of flamed balls, fixed onto you like you’re the main course, dessert, and everything in between—like you’re the most appetising thing in the room.

And, let’s just say, he’s a lot more “warmed up” than usual. His kisses grow deeper, rougher, and the way he’s touching you are the real giveaway… The man’s practically simmering.

And oh, honey, you’re more than pleased to help him get away tonight. So, in your most casual, not-at-all-planned-in-your-head-already way, you decide tonight’s the night to put up a show… Literally. 

You let your hands glide down his chest, feeling every erratic beat of his heart beneath his shirt. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” you murmur softly, your fingers dipping lower until you’re just hovering over his belt buckle, toying with the metal. “How about I pamper you tonight?”

You let your tongue slide over his upper lip, and damn if he doesn’t shudder. His eyes flash with thrill and curiosity—mixed with something darker, more primal. “Oh?” His voice comes out in this sexy rasp like he’s intrigued but still playing along, letting you lead for now.

You bite back a smug grin. Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.

With a playful wink, you step back, making sure to drag your hand across his chest one last time. “Sit tight, big boy,” you purr, backing away with just the right amount of sway in your hips. “This show’s just getting started.”

You saunter down the hallway, feeling his gaze burning a path down your back. You can feel your heart pounding as you head into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. The second it clicks shut, you lean against it for a second to catch your breath. The adrenaline makes your hands quiver a little as you rummage through the drawer.

There it is: that little black number you’ve been saving for a night just like this. 

A lacy, black lingerie piece, sheer in all the right places, hugging curves like it was made for you. You shimmy it on, adjusting the straps, making sure everything’s sitting just so. 

A quick glance in the mirror as you set your hair free from the bun—tousled, sexy-but-effortless vibe, check. The lace hints at more than it conceals, and your lips curl into a slow smile. Oh, yeah, he’s done for. You toss on a silky robe, leaving it untied, the lace peeking through just enough to give him a preview. A little fragrance spritz and a light touch of your lipstick, and you’re sorted.

When you open the door and walk back into the living room, you find him perched on the couch, his eyes snapping to you like magnets, intense and feral, as you come into view. His posture is stiff, knuckles blanched as they grip the cushions like he’s holding on for dear life. His pupils, wide and black with want, devouring the sight of you as if you are something forbidden, yet irresistible.

His gaze lingers, darkening when it catches on the soft peek of skin where your robe parts. He swallows hard, audibly, and when you let the silky fabric slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet, his jaw clenches—hard (hint: and not just his jaw).

The low light of the room encases you as it casts a sensual glow over the room, deepening the shadows and sharpening the tension between you two like a blade.

“F-fuck,” he wheezes, like the breath’s been knocked clean and shallow out of him. He tries to maintain some semblance of self-control, but the sharp despair in his voice betrays him. He sinks deeper into the couch, spreading his legs slightly, shooting you this look that’s pure, unfiltered desire as he drinks you in. 

You want to torture him, enjoying how his gaze rakes over every inch of you, so you slowly strut over to him. Each step is deliberate, your hips swinging in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that’s nothing short of tempting. His composure slips just a little more—a twitch in his jaw, a harsh swallow, the way his chest rises and falls, faster with every second. His eyes flick down to the curves, then back up to your scandalous tits before snapping back to your face.

The heat from his body radiates into yours as you come to a stop, your thighs rubbing against his knees, and his hands instinctively move to grab your waist. But you’re not giving in that easily. “Uh-uh,” you purr, wagging a teasing finger at him, your lips forming a sly smile. 

His fingers freeze, but his eyes burn with frustration as you stretch, purposely slow, letting your ass hover just above his lap. The unmistakable press of his hardness through his jeans sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can’t help but smirk. “I’m in charge tonight, remember?” 

Evan lets out a furious groan, his head falling back defeated against the cushions, hands flexing in silent restraint. The power you hold over him tonight? Oh, it’s delicious, addictive. You throw him one last, seductive glance before turning around, giving him the full view of your barely-there lingerie—delicate straps criss-crossing down your back and framing your ass like a gift he’s dying to unwrap.

You hear as a muttered curse slips past his lips, low and guttural. He’s so close to breaking, and you haven’t even actually started yet. You scroll through your phone’s playlist, cueing up the perfect song for the occasion. The room is soon filled with the slow, sultry beats of Beyoncé’s ‘Dance For You,’ wrapping around both of you like a spell. You start slow, letting the music guide your hips, rolling in hypnotic circles. 

You saunter towards a nearby chair, aka your prop, bending over it as your body flows like liquid heat to the beat. His eyes religiously follow every motion, waiting, his breathing growing heavier like he’s holding on a thread with every flick of your hips, every arch of your spine.

You roam your fingers up my body, teasingly stopping at your hips before dragging them higher, skimming over your breasts. With agonising slowness, you untie your bra, holding his attention and eye contact hostage. The second the lace slips off your body, you toss it in his direction with a devilish grin. He catches it with a hungry grunt, burying his face in the fabric like a man possessed, his smirk turning malicious as he inhales deeply.

“God, you’re killing me,” he groans, eyes exploding with thirst for you. The sight of him, chest heaving, lips slightly parted—oh, it’s so sadistically satisfying. 

You’re gonna make him beg for it. 

Leaning forward, just enough for your bare breasts to graze his chest, you bring your lips up to his ear, hot breath fanning the side of his face, “Good,” voice dripping with a promise for more. You pull back just a fraction, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m just getting started.” 

You circle behind him, and he twists his head, tracking your every move, but you’re not finished (no pun intended).

“Please, Y/N. Come sit on my lap, or my face…just—” His voice breaks, raw and pleading, his body squirming as he shifts, desperate for release. The power thrumming through your veins is out of this world, and you bite your bottom lip knowing you’ve got him right on the edge. 

You start with the lightest touch, dragging your fingers over the hard lines of his shoulders, tracing down the sculpted muscles of his chest, feeling the shudder that runs through him as you slide lower. Your fingers brush over the taut muscles of his thighs.

His stiff length twitches beneath your touch, his growl of desire low and animalistic. His hands stretch again, desperate to reach for you, but you chuckle softly, knowing he’s at your mercy tonight. His usual command is gone, flipped on its head, and that hunger in his eyes tells you he’s loving every second of it.

The music pulses through the room as you circle back around to him. You bend low, your curves on full display, just close enough for him to grab a handful of your ass with an eager groan that rumbles through his chest. He finally pulls you into him, lips attacking your skin, trailing down your spine with feverish kisses as he peels your thong off. His breath brushes against your slit and clit as he descends, his lips so dangerously close it sends your body humming with desire. 

He can smell your fertility; the pheromones emitting from your body intensify his animal instinct to breed. His breathing is erratic now, his body practically vibrating with need to take you, but you still “hold the leash.”

He breaths come out in heavy bursts as he watches you straddle him, knees planted on either side of his hips. You grind down slowly, feeling the friction as you move in slow, sensual circles. His hands latch onto your thighs, his grip harsh and desperate, leaving marks that make your skin tingle. But still, you don’t let him seize control. Not yet.

Leaning in, you pepper steamy kisses along his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your lips, your teeth tracing the sharp edge of his jawline. You tenderly bite at his earlobe, and he growls lowly, his hands spasming with despair to grab you, but even then, you won’t allow him to touch you the way he wants.

“The more you resist, the harder I’ll fuck you,” he warns with a hiss, his voice dark. It’s a threat and a vow all rolled into one that sends a heat pooling between your thighs.

“Perfect,” you retort in a hushed whisper against the shell of his ear, lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth—teasing but not quite giving in. “That’s the idea, baby.” 

You’re serving cunt, and he knows it well.

With a slow, calculated slide, you lower yourself down his body, your hands stripping him of his blazer as you go. You let your hands trace over his thighs and the hardened, erected mound in between. Kneeling between his legs, you lock eyes with him, watching the way his breath stutters, anticipation swirling in the air. Slowly, you unbuckle his belt, your fingers stroking his length just enough to drive him nuts as he lets out a shaky gasp.

You pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper with your teeth. The second you free him from the tight confines of denim, his aching cock springs out, pulsing with raw desire for you, the fabric of his boxers barely able to contain him.

You glance up at him again with a smug smile before leaning down, your lips brushing along his head. His hips buck instinctively, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. But you take your time, taunting him with light flicks of your tongue. 

Finally, you wrap your lips around him, licking his sensitive red tip with the end of your tongue. You swirl it around and lap up the shiny little pearls of precum that keep seeping out in his pent-up arousal. “F-fuuuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me blow in a sec,” he grunts out with a hitched voice as you take his whole size in your mouth. 

Your eyes flash up at him, filled with mischief as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to fit his full size. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, your voice on a seductive octave. “I want you to cum hard... fucking hard all over me.”

Your fingers trace the thick vein along the underside of his shaft before squeezing his hardness and pumping with a fast and firm tempo. Your hand works in sync with your mouth as you suck the upper half of his delicious cock, pulling him in and out, each movement making him gasp and buckle uncontrollably.

His head falls back, eyes screwed shut, muscles tensing. Some inaudible drabble slips off him as he thrusts into your mouth. Pools of saliva are pouring out of the edges of your lips, your eyebrows knitted together as you keep gagging at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You push further, your lips tight around him as you meet his gaze once more, your eyes wild with intensity. His fingers weave into your hair, but he doesn’t force you—he doesn’t have to. You’re in the saddle tonight, guiding him closer to his magical release.

Your hand reaches for his, fingers intertwining as your head bobs up and down on him, earning little moans of delight from his chest. He’s a hot mess; trembling under the weight of the pleasure you’re generously giving him as you slide your mouth down his dick, your cheeks hollowed in a blend of sensual sucks and frantic pumps. 

The sound of you gagging, the wet slurp of your lips, and the way you glance up at him so innocently, brow furrowed with effort, has him reeling. “Ahh, yeah, keep going,” he breathes out, biting his bottom lip.

He gets a good yet gentle grasp of your hair, thrusting into your mouth in shallow, desperate strokes, but you maintain control, building him up slowly, methodically. He adores your lips, especially the way they loop around his dick and release these mewling sounds against it.

But now, his whole body is shuddering, his cock jerking inside, and you can feel the tell-tale sign he’s about to bust his load in your mouth. The blood rushes to his dick, draining any sane thought and cell in his brain, leaving him driven only by his primal instinct and craving for climax.

You slide onto his throbbing cock once more, gobbling on it like the insatiable whore you are. He presses your head down and keeps you there for a few seconds. As you detach from his member to draw a breath, his body immediately locks up, his abs contracting, and then—he’s there. 

His head snaps back as he erupts shivering whimpers of your name, painting your face with copious amounts of his thick, white, and deliciously salty cum, his release spilling over your lips. 

You open your mouth, tongue stretched out, catching the last drops as you pump him, milking every ounce of his release. His cum drips down your chin, and you let your fingers swipe off the remnants from your face, licking them off slowly, savouring the taste. Nothing goes to waste as you look up at him, lips wet, cheeks flushed with the aftermath of his orgasm.

“You’re one hungry bitch, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice strained, still shaky from the intensity of his high. He laughs weakly, dragging his thumb across your cheek with a tender caress, though his hard-on still convulses, not quite ready to soften. He winces as he tries to adjust himself, zipping up his jeans with difficulty, but the look of satisfaction on his face is unmistakable.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, licking your lips as you flash him a sly, knowing smirk. His chest rises and falls heavily, his face reddish, eyes droopy, still lost in the haze of afterglow. 

Without wavering your eyes from him, you crawl up and climb to his lap, feeling your pussy drip with every inch of his skin that presses against you. He ogles your naked torso like a dog drooling over the bone. You position yourself just right, his semi-clothed swollen tip nudging against your slippery entrance.

“I am hungry for you, baby,” you purr with a pout as your fingertips draw lazy circles over the ridges of his abs. His eyes darken, filled with a renewed lust as he watches you, licking his lips like a predator eyeing its prey.

Letting out a dark, throaty chuckle, he wastes no time—he hammers his lips against yours, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth and kissing you with reckless abandon. His hands greedily paw at your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them just hard enough to make you moan against his lips. 

The arousal between you is electric as your body grinds against his, the friction sending sparks flying through you both; it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you are about to feel yourself short circuit any minute. 

His hands hook around your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp in pleasure, the sound echoing through the room. You press your lips harder against his with a mewl, tongues tangling.

“Evan,” you hush out between sloppy kisses, barely coherent amidst loud teeth smacking and clashing together. All thanks to his fingers dipping between your legs, teasing your clit with maddening eights as he grins victoriously, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you.

“My slut’s ready for me?” he hums, giving your ass another smack, the sound of flesh against flesh making you quiver with delight. Your hips swerve on his raging boner, the body-against-body friction igniting an ever-powerful spark within you both. To say you’re a ‘mere’ tease for him is an understatement. 

“You’re doing so good, my baby girl,” he gruffs, and his rough, veiny hands glide possessively toward your rocking waist as you begin to rub yourself against his thigh, slowly... teasingly. Every roll of your hips has him biting his lip, his eyes glued to the way your body moves against him.

“You’re in night care, baby boy, remember?” you hush, your voice laced with dominance as you lift your hips, fingers deftly undoing his trousers again. Your hand wraps around his cock, positioning him at your slick slit. Slowly, achingly slow, you sink down onto him, inch by inch. The stretch forces a moaning gasp out of you as your body adjusts to accommodate his size. Fiery electricity surges through you both, and he hisses watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock.

His hands tighten on your hips as you take him deeper, your nails digging into his biceps when he bottoms out, filling you completely. The fullness makes you shudder, your breath leaving you in a jagged burst as his tip presses snugly against your cervix. The deep groan that escapes his throat vibrates through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily, his hips stilling cautiously.

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, languid circles, setting a rhythm that’s equal parts torture and bliss for both. His hands grip you harder, leaving faint red imprints on your flushed flesh, but he doesn’t push or pull—he’s letting you have the upper hand in riding him, his eyes dark and hungry as he admires you, mouth parted. The way he’s looking at you though? Like you’re a goddess descending from the heavens just for him. Oh, that does something to you.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking gorgeous, taking me like that,” he murmurs, pride and desire dripping from every word. A crooked smile is etched on his face hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds as they cling to his cock. Every thrust, every grind, every little whimper from your lips makes his large member throb inside you, stretching you deliciously as you plop up and down on him.

You lean down, sealing your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss, your tongues twirling in a messy dance. It’s all teeth and moans again as he hits that sweet spot deep inside. It’s the type of kiss that makes time stop, like nothing else exists except for the raw, primitive connection between you two. 

His hands trail up your bare back, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping you close as you grind down harder. Your bodies move in sync, perfectly attuned to each other, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you with every movement. His eyes dart down to your bouncing breasts and toned stomach, but you quickly grab his jaw, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Nu-uh,” you whisper against his lips, your voice tinged with authority. “Eyes on mine, boy.”

He lets off a hearty chuckle, even going so far as to wriggle your ass back against him. “You feel so damn amazing, baby,” he huffs, voice rough with desire, talking over your whiny babbles. He cranes his neck to kiss the edge of your jaw before tenderly nipping at the skin.

Panting heavily, you exhale, “I could do this all night.” Your hips move faster, sliding up and down his thick length, the friction sending bolts of euphoria through you. His breathing grows ragged, and you can feel the tension rising, winding tighter and tighter. You’re so soft—sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

He lets out a low groan, barely holding himself together as your walls squeeze around him. “Thaaat’s it, hngh. This pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen, realising the shift in dynamic—he’s reclaimed control, already winning ground, sis. Before you know it, his plumpish tip drills further between each corner of your dripping cunt. Your small sobs amplify as he starts to move beneath you, his hips thrusting up harder, making your entire body quake with each deep pound.

“I love fucking you so much,” he grunts, nearly whining, his head tilting back as his cock jerks inside you.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Evan’s grip tightens on your hips. With one fluid motion, he lifts you off him, his arms hook beneath your thighs. You gasp, caught off guard, your body hanging in his grasp as he stands up, practically growling with primal need.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, sending a bolt of excitement straight down your spine.

Without hesitation, he spins you around, carrying you across the room, your legs instinctively bundling around his waist. You’re in such a sweet, sexual brain fog that it takes you a second to get what’s going on. With one swift movement, he sweeps his arm across the dining table, sending glasses, cutlery, and whatever else is there crashing to the floor in a chaotic symphony of clatters.

“Evan!” You giggle dazedly, hands clasping on his shoulders as he sets you down on the table, the cold wood against your back making you shiver—but not nearly as much as the fire blazing in his eyes.

He leans over you and shushes you with a kiss, his lips brushing against yours as he pushes your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You don’t have time to argue—not that you want to. He grabs your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the table, his body wedged firmly between your legs. There’s no remorse in his eyes—just pure, animalistic desire. One hand snakes under your ass, the other glides down your left thigh, lifting it effortlessly over his broad shoulder. The way he leans down and looks at you now, almost in slow motion... gosh. It’s like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed… like nothing else matters but taking you right here, right now, and it sets your entire body on fire.

He wants to smash, and he’ll get it.

The scent of your cunt is intoxicating, stirring every primal instinct inside Evan that he knows he must keep in check. He draws his hips back slowly, only his tip nestling inside you, then jams just once inside you. Your whole body jumps at the impact, your pleading eyes boring deep into his, a breathy hum punched out of you. He pulls back and slams forward again, growling through his teeth. Your pillowy walls are cuddling him, his heavy balls aching to be drained, eager to breed the fertile womb his tip is wedged against.

His hands roam up your thighs, grasping you like he can’t get enough. With each slow, deliberate stroke, he sinks deeper into you, your body arching off the table in response. The sensation of him rutting in and out of your sobbing sex is overwhelming—every movement has your breath hitching, your fingers clutching the edge of the table, desperate for some kind of anchor.

Your orgasm is building again, fast and intense. As the pressure inside you give way to climax, tears cascade down your burning cheeks, your features contorted in ecstasy. 

“E-Evan, I can’t take it! T-too much!”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Say please, baby,” he grits out, his voice low and commanding. His hips thrust into yours harder, making you lose all sense of logic. Your mind is blank, mouth hanging open, unable to form words as the pleasure consumes you.

“P-please,” a pained mewl tumbles out of you, and that single word tips him off the edge. His hips stutter, and with a series of deep thrusts along with a carnal chant of “ah, ah, ah, ah” pouring from his lips, he gushes inside you—creamy gooey ropes of cum dribble into you, not missing at all.

He’s panting heavily, hips jerking involuntarily as he empties himself, filling you to the brim with thick, sticky cum.

His groans of satisfaction blend with your breathy moans as you cling to him, feeling his weight stick against your skin like it’s adhesive. You bite into the soft skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers as he continues to thrust lazily, drawing out every last bit of his orgasm.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and raspy, each word filled with the same raw desire that’s coursing through your veins. “I wanna feel you.”

That’s it—the words, the intensity, the feeling of him completely owning your body, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin—have you on a chokehold. You suck in lungfuls of air as the incoming pangs of orgasmic waves smash over you with impossible force. You can’t hold back the loud moans spilling from your lips, your body arching up and writhing beneath him as you come hard, your walls spasming around his cock.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand gently stroking your cheek, his breath hot against your lips. Your body convulses uncontrollably in his arms as he rides out your climax with you, his cock still throbbing inside your over-sensitive core. 

As you come down, your breaths laboured and uneven, he buries his head to your chest, his mouth warm against your skin as his kisses travel down to your boobs, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. Each subtle touch sends aftershocks of pleasure through you, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

You huff, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “You’re a menace, you know that?” you whisper, still trying to catch your breath. But he’s not done yet. You giggle softly as he moves lower, planting tingly smoochies to your skin, his breath like a warm breeze against your thighs.

“You smell like honey… I wanna taste you,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the soft curve of your inner thigh. His fingers part your sloping folds, spreading you open for him as he watches the glistening cum leak from your swollen pussy. His primitive need to eat you up tests his sense of control. 

His tongue plunges between your labia, stretching them up with a slow and deliberate lick. Your thighs quiver around his head in the aftershocks of your climax, straining moans and semi-shrieks falling from your lips as his tongue dives deeper between your folds. The wet sound of him slurping up the mix of your juices and his cum is obscene, but it only drives you wilder, especially as he mumbles the moto, “Y/N... Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Your fingers lace in his drenched thick, curly brown locks, holding him in place. The untamed animal inside him is finally sated, fed well at the meal between your thighs. His teeth sink ever-so-lightly into the plump pout of your lips, and you can’t stop the desperate little wails flipping from your throat. 

Your eager pussy can’t help but drool. Streams of your slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers. With a rosy flat tongue, he pads and licks you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers in—only to push them right back out. As he re-enters, he pokes against your g-spot again, and again, and again…

That’s all it takes for the sharp twisting coil to snap within you for the second time, and your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp. “Fuck, fuck,” you choke out, your breath coming in hollow bursts as you feel his hushed praises and loving words ghost against your clit. You can’t stay still for the life of you—it’s as if every muscle in your body rips apart once you come into his mouth, your jaw slackened and your eyes widened.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and Evan’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

You’re making a mess out of him, and he’s still eating it up—the dedication. His chin got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your slick running down. With an echoing pop, he slides his fingers off your pussy, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. The shaking from your multiple orgasmic release keeps on, the ringing in your ears never subsiding. 

“Mmph, Y/N. So beautiful,” he cries out, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses a kiss to your swollen, sensitive lips. Your sweet slickness smears against his stubble even more, but he couldn’t care less. All that matters is you, lying there beneath him, glowing with the outcome of your pleasure. 

Evan’s gaze lingers on you for a long moment, his chest still heaving as he melts in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, thoroughly wrecked from the intensity of what just happened. His hand gently strokes your thigh, trailing up and down in soothing circles as the both of you come down from the high together.

Propping your weight on your elbows, you stare down on him, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips. You pull him up for a sloppy, rough kiss. Your fingers pinch on his well-defined jaw as he rests on top of her. You can feel his stiff length press against her stomach, and it feels great. 

You reach up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “You really know how to leave a girl breathless,” you mumble teasingly, though your voice is barely above a whisper, still catching.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, and you giggle softly, the sound light and airy.

You lay there for a while, the after-sex haze still buzzing through your veins. Evan’s sprawled out on the sofa, shirtless. His hair is all tousled, looking like some kind of model from a cologne ad—except sexier, and definitely more accessible. You watch him, feeling a dopey grin spread across your face. This man… God, this man.

You pull yourself up, snuggling into that familiar blue blanket from the edge of the couch—the one you always steal when it’s movie night, or when you’re feeling cosy after a particularly intense workout (aka “fuck time”).

“You look like a smurf burrito,” Evan quips, his hand lazily draped across his abs as he watches you pace around the room.

You snort, cuddling deeper into the blanket. “Better than looking like a sweaty, shirtless disaster.” You throw him a wink and a brow waggle, but honestly, the view is prime real estate right now. That man should charge admission.

He smirks smugly, running a hand through his messy curls. “Sweaty, shirtless disaster, huh? I was under the impression you were enjoying said disaster inside you just a few minutes ago.”

“Touché,” you giggle as you flop down the sofa, letting your head fall back against the armrest. “But the jury’s still out on whether I enjoyed it or tolerated it.”

“Oh, is that so?” His eyebrow quirks, and that playful gleam you love so much flickers back in his eyes. He leans forward, crawling towards you on the sofa with that predator-like grace, his hands landing on either side of your bundled-up self.

“Maybe.” You bite your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but your heart's already doing flips at the way he’s looking at you. Damn, those eyes.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I should just—” Evan dips down, his lips grazing your ribcage, making you gasp. You wriggle away playfully, pulling the blanket up higher as if it’s some kind of armour.

“Okay, okay! I loved it. Five stars on Yelp, glowing review and a side of fries.” You’re laughing now, barely able to keep up the act.

Evan chuckles triumphantly, that warm, rumbling sound that makes your pulse leap in your throat. “Five stars? Well, that must make me the Michelin Man of love.”

“Please,” you laugh, “the only thing you’re qualifying for is most likely to be found with a pizza slice in hand.”

His grin widens, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, speaking of pizza, how about we start planning our wedding menu? I’m thinking pepperoni and extra cheese for the wedding cake. You know, something to make the guests feel like they’re in a pizzeria.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at his ridiculousness. “So, pizza-themed wedding, huh? What are we going to serve? Breadsticks as the bouquet?”

“Absolutely! And the best part? I’ll have a pepperoni ring!” He starts mimicking a ring toss, and you can’t help but crack up.

“Oh wow, my future husband is a real romantic,” you say, shaking your head in mock disbelief.

But then Evan leans in closer, his expression turning serious, and you feel the air shift. “But really, I want to make sure I don’t just slice into this whole ‘life together’ thing. I want to do it right. So, how about we order that wedding cake now because…” He reaches into his pocket, and your heart skips a beat as he pulls out a small velvet box.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion as you sit up. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of prank”

“Well, not exactly a prank. Unless you think proposing is some kind of joke.”

Your heart stops.

“What?” The word barely squeaks out, and you’re pretty sure your brain just exploded. Did he—did he just say proposing?

Evan’s mouth pulls into this soft smile, and before you know it, he’s dropping to one knee on the sofa. “I mean, I’ve got the ring and all that the protocol requires,” he mutters and your eyes bulge, mouth agape. “...and I don’t want to waste another minute from making you my wife!”

Your heart stops.

You leap up from the sofa, shaky hands flying to your mouth, shock flooding your system. The blanket almost slips off, eyes wide and heart pounding like you’re on the world’s most chaotic and steepest rollercoaster. Did he—did he also just say wife? “Are you serious?”

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice a little shaky but full of that Evan confidence that always makes you feel like the only person in the room, “I’ve been through a lot lately. We both have. But the one constant through it all—through the tough days and the good ones, the sleepless nights and the mornings I wake up next to you—is that I want every single day to be with you.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this.

“From the moment I saw you in that club, I never looked away. We started off with a bang, quite literally, but I’ve felt like I’ve known you my whole life and won the love lottery. You’re my jackpot. The reason I smile—even when I feel like I’ve hit every bump on the road. You make even the ordinary feel extraordinary, and I want to make this last forever.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this. Your pulse hammers so loud you swear he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“So here I am, making it official, ready to take a gamble on the biggest bet of my life. Will you marry me and make me the luckiest man on the planet?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a subtle and stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart throbs so hard, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest.

“You drive me crazy in the best way possible. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, my favourite person to order burgers with. I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh, making you mad, and maybe every now and then... sweeping plates off the table to get to you faster.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling.

“Evan!” you gasp, half-laughing through your tears, remembering the chaos from a few minutes ago.

He chuckles heartily, but there’s something so tender in his expression now. “So, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a simple yet stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“Yes!” you shout, your voice breaking with joy as you toss the blanket aside and fling yourself into his arms, knocking him backward onto the sofa. He laughs as you straddle his waist, hugging him tight, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him hard, your heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might burst.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, smiling up at you as you kiss him again, both of you tangled in this beautiful, overwhelming moment.

He slips the ring onto your finger, and you hold your hand up, marvelling at how perfectly it fits—how perfectly it all fits.

And as you both lie there, wrapped up in each other and the ridiculousness of the moment, Evan chuckles. “So, Smurf burrito, looks like you’re stuck with me for life.”

You laugh, smothering his face with smoochies of aggressive cuteness magnitude. “Lucky me. Now... about those burgers? I’m still hungry.”

Evan grins, pulling you closer. “First, how about I show you just how well I can speak your love language?”

“Burgers first, then more disaster sex,” you tease, giggling as he tries to tickle you.

“Deal,” he whispers, stealing another kiss, because honestly, in this moment, you’re the best thing on the menu.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling, @babymazz

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Announcement

This might not be a forever goodbye, and who knows, a spinoff of this series might pop up someday, but this is going to be the final part, y’all. I’ll admit, I sometimes feel like I’m navigating through a tiny room with towering walls in this digital space; like my creative expression is being restricted and policed, and I cannot fully communicate or channel my “writing persona,” if you will, in here. Still, every bit of your love and support has made it worth it. I’ve poured so much into this world, and Evan, well… he’s been an incredible muse through it all. So, thanks a bunch, truly. xx

[thesimstree]

Not Your Typical Wedding: 20 Unusual Sims Locations for Wedding 🤍

Sometimes, you just want something special – not just beautiful, but truly magical, with a hint of whimsy and a touch of madness. Imagine a wedding ceremony inside an abandoned airplane, an underwater cottage covered in flowers, or an intimate vow exchange in the middle of lavender fields, where everything around you breathes summer. In this article, we’ve gathered the most atmospheric, unique, and cozy wedding locations for your Sims. 

A House in the Middle of the Ocean

Casa Flutuante Sulani by @mtsims

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One of the most extraordinary locations on this list – a real house surrounded by water, with a long pier stretching into the sea. It feels as if it was made for a wedding ceremony: you walk down the wooden planks, with nothing but the soft waves and endless sky around you. Guests can be seated on a round platform floating in the water, creating an intimate and stylish atmosphere. Picture it: a sunset ceremony, a gentle ocean breeze, just you, your Sims, and the infinite horizon.

A Secret Wedding Deep in the Woods

Secret Wedding by yohannabuilds

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A secluded forest clearing with a gothic charm – perfect for those dreaming of a fairytale wedding. The delicate decor enhances the romance of the moment, but if you prefer a darker, more mysterious vibe, you can always add moody accents. Every corner of this enchanting spot is surrounded by natural beauty, making it a breathtaking backdrop for wedding photos.

The Fallen Airplane

Plane Crash by TheSimStream

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For the bold and unconventional! Yes, this is exactly what it sounds like – a wedding venue featuring a crashed airplane. But it’s not just an abandoned wreck; it’s a stunning stage for a wedding with an apocalyptic romantic twist. The surrounding landscape is unexpectedly picturesque, and with the addition of a wooden wedding arch by @doodlefae, some candles, maybe even a bit of greenery, you can transform it into a masterpiece for both the ceremony and an unforgettable photoshoot.

Of course, this setting isn’t for everyone. But if you’re dreaming of a wedding that breaks all the rules, with a touch of audacity and humor, this lot is sure to inspire you.

Flower Field

Flower Field by @beansbuilds

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This place feels like a page from a poetry book: simple, heartfelt, beautiful, without the need for extra words. Delicate flowers sway in the gentle breeze, and in the middle of the field stands a white tent, as if made for a special moment. You can set up an arch and benches, invite friends, and host a classic outdoor wedding. Or leave everything as it is and have a ceremony with just the two of you, quiet, with no witnesses, just about love. 

A Stunning Location Floating in the Air

Goddesses lair by yohannabuilds

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It feels as if this venue isn’t standing on solid ground but is truly floating in the air. It rises above the beach and the sea, catching the last rays of the setting sun, glowing softly in its golden light. Everything here looks delicate and serene, as if peace itself lives in this place.

A ceremony at the top, overlooking the ocean and sky, would be breathtaking. Imagine the Sims climbing the stairs, stepping into this secluded, almost weightless space. A quiet breeze, warm light, and the feeling of being outside of time: this will be a truly magical and unforgettable moment.

A Wedding Among Ancient Ruins

This place seems made for those who believe that love is timeless. Hidden deep in the wild, abandoned ruins entwined with greenery create an atmosphere of mystery and romance. You could hold a summer ceremony among moss and stone, or even a winter one – one of the options in this collection looks especially enchanting under the snow. Some setups are more modern, with neatly arranged seating and an elegant wedding arch. Others embrace the ancient ambiance completely, with an impressive stone arch at the center of it all. A perfect setting for lovers who want their wedding to feel like a legend – touched by mystery, eternity, and the beauty of nature.

Ruins Wedding Venue by @theseptembersim

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Enchanted Beach Wedding Venue by @bloomingkyras

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Romantic Ruins от The Realistic Simmer

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A Wedding Surrounded by Cliffs

Harmony Haven Spa by yohannabuilds

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Sometimes, the most unexpected finds turn out to be the most beautiful. This spa center has unexpectedly become a perfect wedding venue – everything here is covered in flowers, while the surrounding rock formations create a natural altar. One of the cliffs curves into an arch, and if you place a platform beneath it, you get an incredibly dramatic spot for the ceremony. The views around are breathtaking: lush greenery, water, stone, and sky blending into a single, stunning backdrop.

A Château with a Lavender Field

Lavender chateau by @giuliabuilds

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A lavender field, like those in the French countryside, stretches at the foot of a grand château. Here, you’ll find everything: a large pond with a bridge, a cozy gazebo, charming garden paths, and that picture-perfect house that makes any wedding photo look stunning. Every corner invites you to pause and say "I do" beneath the rustling leaves and the scent of flowers. This is the perfect setting for a romantic, fairy-tale wedding, where flowing white gowns, veils, and champagne glasses feel as natural as the landscape itself.

A Cozy Barn for a Rustic Wedding

Wedding Barn by @paleanelo-sims

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A warm and heartfelt ranch atmosphere with a beautifully designed barn surrounded by greenery. This venue is perfect for an intimate country-style wedding, where every guest feels like part of a big family. Wooden details and natural decor create a sense of comfort and coziness, making it an ideal place to celebrate love.

A Bridge Ceremony Over a Stunning Lake

Serene Lake by @starrysimsie

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This place feels like a love poem written by nature. A wrought-iron bridge stretches across a peaceful lake, surrounded by a quiet forest, soft light, and countless charming details. It’s the kind of place that calls for sunrise weddings, when the world is still hushed, or evening ceremonies, when the sky turns shades of pink and lavender. Every photo taken here looks like a postcard. Perfect for those who seek serenity, depth, and a sense of quiet intimacy on their special day.

Enchanted Forest

Forest Wedding by @katesimblr

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A location filled with countless details – from mysterious winding paths to hidden nooks for quiet moments. The luxurious atmosphere of this place will make your wedding truly magical. Be sure to check out the creator’s screenshots to appreciate all the beauty and possibilities for your ceremony.

Italian Villa on a Hill

An Italian Villa on a Hill by @giuliabuilds

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A stone villa perched on a cliff, straight out of a classic film. Surrounded by towering trees and a tranquil pond, it features a stunning terrace and an elegant staircase, offering endless options for placing the wedding arch and seating your guests. Whether you choose a ceremony on the lawn by the pond or against the backdrop of a swan-drifted boat, your imagination knows no bounds.

Atmospheric Venue on Mount Komorebi

Waterfalls Mt.Komorebi by The Sims Mouse

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A place that makes you want to stop and simply breathe. Mount Komorebi captivates with its breathtaking views, and this building is a true masterpiece that enhances the natural magic. Several levels connected by bridges, a cascading waterfall, and an ancient temple at the peak – every corner exudes mystery and harmony. For the ceremony, you could choose the bridge overlooking the waterfall – an ideal shot for photos. Or climb up to the temple for an intimate vow exchange among grand columns and serene silence. Or… well, here we go again – it’s impossible to choose! A place that sparks inspiration.

Autumn Lakeside Home

Autumnal Lake House by @giuliabuilds

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If you’re planning a fall wedding, this location will highlight the beauty of the season. The lakeside terrace in front of the house is a perfect spot for the ceremony, while the surrounding landscape provides a stunning backdrop for warm, golden-hued wedding photos.

Ocean Platform with a Wedding Arch

Sulani Dream Wedding Venue  by simswithsarah

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A breathtaking location featuring a platform and wedding arch set right in the middle of the ocean. Imagine saying your vows surrounded by endless water, with the sunset reflecting in the waves, creating a truly magical atmosphere for your special day.

A Wedding with a Ferris Wheel Backdrop

Etincelle light neon by @syboubou

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As the sky darkens and anticipation fills the air, the park lights up… and among the glowing lights stands a massive, animated Ferris wheel. It’s not just a backdrop – it’s a mood. This location is perfect for an evening wedding, infused with romance, soft neon lights, and a touch of fairytale magic. You can play around with decorations to create the perfect atmosphere.

Underwater Floral Home for a Mermaid Wedding

Flower House from Iblard Jikan by @kqhartx

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If Hayao Miyazaki designed a wedding in The Sims, it would take place here. This underwater floral home looks like it drifted out of a dream: soft curves, natural hues, and delicate blossoms everywhere. The perfect venue for a mermaid wedding: the shimmering water above, dappled light reflections, iridescent hues… the whole atmosphere slows time itself. Simply place an arch by the entrance and hold an intimate, enchanted ceremony – just like in an underwater fairytale.

A Wedding Ceremony on a Boat

Dreaming of a boat wedding? Here, you have two options! The first – a classic, elegant boat, perfect for a refined ceremony with a vintage touch. The second – a beachside romance: bare feet on wooden planks, a light breeze… The boat is surrounded by greenery and soft lights, allowing the couple to choose between a formal or relaxed atmosphere. A cozy ambiance, the whisper of waves – sounds like the beginning of a beautiful story.

Beach House by Flubs79

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Lakeside Retreat by @mychqqq-blog

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