#wasn't sure about the hair style

[goayda]

@izzymarksthespot I have been a bit out since I got the lurgy last week, but still I remembered your post about long-haired Izzy ♥️. I'm really not too good at drawing, but I have tried. Here it is a quick long-haired Izzy drawing for you.

[ritterdoodles]

A.B.A 🗝

[bayofwolves]

how did abeke take care of her braids when the team was on a mission is what i want to know

[capricornlevi]

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.

[dekuneho]

husband of the year ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

The TV was broadcasting and heatedly narrating Dynamight's current Villain-of-the-Week takedown when your co-worker, Yaeko whom you remember by her pin-straight waist-length hair and delight in a bunch of hearsay, taps on your shoulder for attention.

"Mm?" you murmur distractedly, incapable of tearing your eyes away from how the camera has easily captured the swift fluttering mid-air, even if just barely. No ordinary person could keep up with the force that is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Ayane-chan clocked out early."

"Did she?"

Yaeko settles on the plastic chair on your right, watching the #1 Pro Hero absolutely pulverize the villain with the most elegance, Bakugou style. She doesn't take it in with the same rapt. Doesn't hold her breath or tighten her grip on her knees, not like you.

"Her husband picked her up. They're having dinner," Yaeko sings, then sighs dreamily. "Oh, if only mine would pick me up with a nice, sleek car."

The villain finally registers he's clearly overestimated his plan for victory and starts begging for mercy. Dynamight appears too distracted to even feel victorious about it.

"That would be nice," you agree, though you're not really sure what she's saying anymore as Dynamight takes the last win. His expression looks off — far away.

'And once again, #1 Pro Hero Dynamight proves why he's at the top, breaking his last three-minute record! Looks like he'll be securing this year's ranking as well.' The reporter gushes like it's some Olympic Sport. Dynamight would grin like a fucking bastard, too, usually, but not today, it seems.

"How come I never see your husband?" Yaeko asks all of a sudden.

"That would be no good," you say, chuckling. "He's busy enough as he is."

Yaeko appraises your assured smile. "Hm. Is that what he says?"

The reporter continues gushing, "And he flees the scene in a signature Dynamight hit-and-run. He might be off to save another city; who knows!"

"That's what everyone says, really," you say cryptically, moments later. You wonder why Dynamight looked so distracted. It wasn't like him.

In the immediate silence that follows, you spare a glance at your co-worker. Yaeko looks thirsty for prying, but as soon as her shoulder comes in contact with yours, she rears back with a gasp.

"You're still sick!" she admonishes, not unlike in the tone a mother hen if they could speak and grip both your shoulders. "I was wondering why you even came today when you were all but dying last night."

You jerk away. "I was just feeling a little feverish. Nothing too bad.”

Yaeko clicks her tongue. The chair slides back as she pushes off to get water from the dispenser near the TV. The reporter drones on about how fortunate they were to witness the Pro Hero in broad daylight, followed by the dispenser's buzz.

"Your husband let you out like that?" she asks.

"He doesn't know," you murmur shamefully.

Yaeko appears unimpressed, holding the cup to your lips. You sigh and move to keep the glass yourself, feeling a little petulant about it.

Commotion begins to pick up in volume from outside, muted by the walls. Yaeko pays no mind to it, but your hair picks up on its ends. When there's a stifled sound of explosion, you understand why. The news moves to a different topic, though it seems that the headlines made its way to you himself.

"Shit. Hide me, Yaeko-san. Please."

Yaeko frowns. "What? Hey, don't move so much."

The door slides open and presents the #1 Hero himself, sweating and seething and still looking like a dream. He has to twist his upper body, the door for ordinarily built men unable to accommodate his solid, beefy arms.

"You," he growls, eyes blazing.

"Noo." You shield your face with the crook of your arm, but there isn't a single wall in the world that Dynamight can't break through.

Behind him, the security guard emerges and looks rightfully guilty. He makes a gesture of 'I tried, sorry. It's up to you now.'

He grips your elbow and pushes it out of view until your face is bare, and you're witness to his very, very angry face. "I told you not to punch in for work."

He did say that. "Uhh…"

"You went all," He pitches his voice somewhere obnoxiously high, "'Don't worry, baby, I won't!' — we lyin' to each other now?"

You did also say that.

"Baby?" Yaeko whispers to herself, stunned.

Dynamight scowls, ripping his glove out to press it on your forehead, his skin ice-cold. You wonder if this is how the villain from earlier felt, though maybe with a little less arousal at the sight of his eyes. "Fuckin' idiot," he mutters under his breath.

"D-Dynamight, sir," Yaeko pipes up, looking shell-shocked, "please unhand my co-worker."

"Ha? You the one who asked this idiot to clock in?"

"No." You shield Yaeko's terrified expression with your hand. "No, she didn't. I did it myself."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a dumbass on your own," he says, and now the familiarity of bickering feels more like your Katsuki in the walls of your home. Your husband, who seriously came all the way here after kicking some ass. Katsuki turns to Yaeko. "Tell your boss we're leaving. Don't call."

And he pulls you up and drags you off. You half-expected him to throw you over his shoulder, but his neck brace might dig into your side painfully, and Katsuki has already considered it despite his boiling anger at your disobedience.

"Katsuki," you whine, heating up at the stonished staring while you're tugged off into the exit. "Did you really fly all the way here just to kidnap me home?

"The hell's with that," he snaps. "I'm clocking out for the day 'cause I'm not stupid like your stupid ass."

"Katsuki!"

"'sides," Katsuki gives you a long look over his shoulder, and oh, is this what he was thinking about the entire time? Your heart does a bit of somersaulting. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Yaeko can keep her nice, sleek cars. Nothing beats this.

[talaok]

Giving up

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you

Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.

a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)

Part 1

"did you do something to your hair?"

Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.

"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"

His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh

"someone's in a good mood today"

"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"

Tommy's interest was only piqued more.

there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...

something was definitely going on.

"Where are you going?"

Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare

"none of your business"

Oh he knew what was going on...

"Who is she?"

"Tommy-"

"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"

Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.

He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.

"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"

But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.

"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"

What in the actual fuck?

Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.

"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak

"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur

"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"

"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"

"Tommy I know she's young bu-"

"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"

__ __

"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"

You smiled at his words, shaking your head

"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,

He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.

"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.

"Uhm- sure"

His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.

Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.

Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.

You watched him as he sipped on the glass.

"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"

He damn near choked.

Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.

He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"

"And?"

You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face

pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes

"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"

Oh for fuck's sake

"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.

"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"

This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.

"ok"

__ __ __

As it turns out, in many different ways.

Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?

He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-

or so you thought.

"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips

"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"

He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.

What a tease

__ __ __

"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"

For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.

You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...

It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.

"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,

He held his breath for a moment

"'s nothing babygirl"

"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"

"In your... bedroom?"

"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.

Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.

You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.

And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.

The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.

He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.

"Everything seems right"

"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"

He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.

"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.

He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.

The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"

"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"

You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.

"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-

He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.

"would you like to have sex with me or not?"

You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat

"this- this ain't really fair sugar"

A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"

Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.

"You're y-young baby-"

Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.

"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"

He cursed under his breath

"I just... I don't understand"

A breathy laugh escaped you

"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"

That earned you a chuckle

"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"

You smiled as you looked up at him,

you'd never met a man so sweet

"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"

Fucking damn it

How could he ever say no after that?

With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...

"So?"

He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.

"yes"

That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.

yes

Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.

His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.

A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.

He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,

making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-

and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.

You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.

You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.

Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.

Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.

He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.

You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

"take off your clothes"

You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.

The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.

You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.

"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.

"What?" you laughed

"I-I don't even know"

You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.

He was already addicted.

In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-

His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.

He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.

"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"

Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.

"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"

"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"

You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.

"Fuck"

"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"

Jesus fuck

Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.

You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.

He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.

Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.

Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths

"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"

His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.

"you ok?"

His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.

"Joel?"

He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.

"d-don't move"

You smiled as you promised "I won't"

God this was fucking embarrassing.

He'd spent three days training.

And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.

He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.

He was so fucked

"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"

"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"

Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.

"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"

he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.

"take all the time you need"

And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.

He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.

There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.

Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.

"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized

You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence

"You look..."

Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.

"you're beautiful"

Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.

"so are you, Joel"

And that was that.

His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.

A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.

Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined

The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.

He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.

"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.

You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.

"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.

"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.

the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.

The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.

Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman,

You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.

His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.

Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.

Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit

"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"

You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming

"Inside"

It wasn't even a question

"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"

"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"

Good Christ and heaven

"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"

You were already seeing stars as he spoke

"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"

A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.

You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.

He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-

His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,

until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.

He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.

A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"

And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.

@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu

[shouyuus]

─── 恋与深空 APHRODITE MADE ME!!

a mini-series of aphrodisiac-centric fics for our lnds boys bc how else do we celebrate kinktober if not under the influence? here you'll find fics that contain: sex pollen, heat-sex, and not one but two instances of sex-drug induced coitus -- don't say i didn't warn you now!

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged in one or all of these fics! cw and specifics below the cut. pls do have an age indicator on ur blog somewhere if ur asking to be tagged! your my mileage may vary in getting these fics out though, bc the muse is sporadic at best and nonexistent at worse, but i'll eventually have all these written... for sure! also, these summaries/tags might change slightly as i actually start to write the fics to better fit the content, but the broad storkes (ha! get it) won't change :) and without further ado -- here we go!

─── 黎深 ZAYNE

doctor, doctor!

he's not one known for overindulgence, so when he comes home from the hospital one day with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes, you're understandably wary of his claim that he's just fine. but a few more minutes of probing reveals that he'd signed up to test a developing cure for a new strand of black-market aphrodisiacs on himself — well, you think, you might be just the person to nurse him back to health.

cw: knowing use of sex drugs, needy!zayn, internal creampies, handjobs, oral (fem receiving), face-riding, missionary

─── 祁煜 RAFAYEL

so it's that time of year again, except this year on ebb day, he's acting stranger than ever, begging you to touch him, to stay close — it isn't till he'd panting beneath you that he finally tells you the truth, that a lemurian in love reacts to ebb day differently. how differently? well, you're about to find out.

cw: heat!sex, premature ejaculation, power bottom!raf, switch!reader, cowgirl, oral (male receiving), abo-adjacent dynamics

─── 沈星回 XAVIER

it's not often that you come home to find xavier sprawled out on the bed, moaning your name, fucking his fist to the thought of you, but when you do, you can't help but wonder — what brought this on? turns out a lumiere fangirl handed him a box of chocolates and he didn't think twice about eating them. so, what better punishment is there than to let him look but not touch?

cw: unknowing use of sex drugs, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, dom!reader, sub!xavier, orgasm denial, footjobs, bit of aftercare

─── 秦彻 SYLUS

when the twins drag sylus back, squawking about how he nearly got shot, you're more than a little worried. but it quickly becomes apparent that what sylus got shot with wasn't just any normal bullet, and it won't be fatal. but, it is going to be a long, long night, and being the caring captive that you are, what to do but to dress his wounds and help him work through whatever it is that he needs working through?

cw: sex pollen, dom!sylus, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, rough sex, doggy style, creampies, backshot, hair-pulling, biting

[stellacendia]

Y'know those comics some artistically-inclined transmasc people make about getting haircuts? Where they feel like the person in the mirror with long hair isn't them and then they cut it and they say "suddenly I see myself"?

I never could fully relate to them- I had long hair for most of my life and I've cut it short and let it grow back out because I just liked having long hair. And the reasons I cut it, every time, had actually very little to do with gender presentation and more to do with executive dysfunction stuff. So I'd see these comics and go 'hmmmm' but move on.

And then I got this most recent haircut. Shortest my hair's ever been since I was a literal baby. And- I cried in the chair at the barber's. I tried so hard not to cause I didn't want the lady to think I hated it- the opposite in fact- but the second she spun me around to face the mirror I just had this moment of 'oh.' And suddenly I completely understood those comics.

I want to happy-stim every time I catch sight of myself in a mirror, I love it that much. I'm going to be looking for excuses for my friend to take pictures of me, I love it that much. I finally feel like my appearance actually reflects the way I see myself and all it took was just a lil haircut.

I thought I'd miss my hair once it was gone- because even with all my conflicting feelings about my appearance I truly did love having it long, and I never saw the hair as the reason why I hated my reflection.

But I don't miss it. And as much as I liked that I love this short cut so much better. I really think- this time it's gonna stick. This time, I don't think I'll let it grow out again. This is finally me.

[venmondiese]

SUBTLE LOVE, DARING WORDS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Aemond is in no hurry to take a wife, yet once he realizes that he doesn't value what he has until he might lose it, he takes action. (based on THIS request!)

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader.

✧word count: 3.1k

✧tags: fluff and comfort, aemond is BAD at feelings, reader doesn't really admit anything either, slight? slowburn?, overall fluffy!!, this is really vague about in which year happens, lol

The first time he met you it was in the library.

He had his mind on the whole commotion at court, the tournament which he had refused to entertain, much to his mother's dislike because of his position as a royal. To him, it seems like a foolery, as if he was willing to participate in making himself a fool such as Mushroom. 

When he came to the library, intending to search for a book to comfort himself, he found a lady leaning down one of the staircases, where there were lots of books stacked only for maesters, with him as an exception… but not a lady surely, less one that seemed to be looking for something below. He was astonished, for many reasons. 

He watched her big, puffy dress, in rich red velvet and gold details. It was definitely a Westerlands style, so he was more confused as to why she was in this part of the library, only for maesters, and… well, him. How did the guards allow her to enter? How did she do it so confidently, as if he couldn’t make her life hell for it?

“Ehem” he scoffs, as if trying to get her away. The least of his worries was having a lady on the forbidden library corner… for now. “Get out. You are in a forbidden part”

“I am aware” your voice comes from down the staircase you had even moved some books! That made him slightly… annoyed.  As you move your head out to see the prince above you, and you make a movement with your head as if doing a courtesy. “My prince”

He was not amused, at all. You had green eyes, and the most golden hair he had seen in ages. The small lions on your dress allowed him to know who you were: A Lannister. And he definitely never wanted to deal with any of your kin. 

“And I said-”

“My cat is down there” you say, as if he cared. 

“Okay. Take it out of here”

“I can’t” you say simply, watching him with a grin. “She seems to be in labour. I didn’t know she was pregnant at all…”

He has many questions, and he frowns at your reasoning. He would take the cat and throw it out himself if he had to. 

“It is your cat, just take it away”

“Well, my father gave her to me two weeks ago!” You make a face, almost whining about it. Of course he could know which Lannister is your father. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and she is still getting used to me. She will scratch me, more if I get closer to her babies”

“A scratch won’t kill you”

“Just sit” you say softly, watching the cat and sitting on the ground to wait. “You can even keep one of the baby cats”

“My grandsire has brought enough cats already” Aemond says, walking to grab some wine for him and the lady. He wasn't impolite to be rude to a lady, much less one with your status and beauty. “They come to my bed when I am sleeping, and I wake up to cats in my chest”

“Well, I think they are cute” You say, taking the cup of wine, thanking him as you sip the wine. “Cats are felines, like lions. So I think having a cat is reasonable, better than a lion”

“Don’t you want one?”

“I have one back at home” you say shrugging, smiling widely. “He is called Brightroar”  

Of course you named it like the ancient weapon of Lannisters. “And this one?” 

“I wanted to call it Brightroar second, but it turned out to be a she. So she is just called Gemma” 

He can’t deny that he is amused, watching you being so nonchalant about it all, as if you owned the world. He raises an eyebrow as he has a slight smirk, as he sits near. 

“Gemma” he scoffs. “A very…”

“Lannister name” you say smugly. 

“Hm. I was going to say… common, perhaps” he adds.

“You would love for Lannisters to be commoners, my prince. Yet you seem to rely on our gold” you notice, raising one eyebrow. So you weren’t a silly lady, he realises, you had the wits.

“Hmm… Our gold seems a bit excessive, my lady. It is your father who is the head of your house” he reminds you, leaning back on his chair. 

You smile softly. He thinks you are Cerelle, probably. Mostly because you know Cerelle was still a kid and never been presented to the royal court.

“Mine or not, I still am more entitled to it.”

“I have a dragon.” He adds, as if this was a debate between you both. He was actually enjoying it. He had totally the wrong impression of you and he… was enjoying it. “The biggest dragon”

“Yeah, and?” 

“And I could burn your silly little castle” he shrugs, taking a dip of wine. 

“No, you could not” 

“I’m pretty sure I can”

“No, actually. I know you haven’t gone out of these four walls and this... city, my prince, but I remind you out of the kindness of my heart: Casterly Rock is literally… a rock” 

Aemond rolls his good eye, yet his smirk doesn’t leave his face. As if your cat was forgotten, he keeps on his point. 

“As if has stopped a dragon before” Aemond says simply. “Because I am as kind I shall remind you of Harrenhal, perhaps?” 

“And I shall remind you that Harrenhal is a castle made of rocks.” She shrugs softly. “Not exactly a rock. Casterly Rock is literally a castle inside a rock.”

“Some parts are out of it”

“Not the part where we keep our gold, not really”

Aemond squints his eye, and you look back at him. You amused him, looking like a defiant cat that got away with their mischief. It was fun to see, and he could hear the wails of your cat. You didn’t seem worried, neither was he. Perhaps that was the circle of life, and you knew your cat would manage. 

As you speak of such trivial matters, waiting for your cat to end her labours, he couldn’t help but admire your wits, as much as your beauty. Your velvet gown, of a strong red and some gold details did wonders with your appearance, and your brains only made you brighter. 

“What are you doing here?” It was Tyland Lannister, coming with a Maester behind, probably who sneaked your position in a forbidden library. “You know ladies can’t be here” 

“Father... My cat is giving birth” You say, frowning as if it was the most obvious thing. 

“My prince” Tyland makes a courtesy to him, a bit rigid and tense. You had heard how the prince would often terrorise your father, making him do the silliest things as if that amused him. Your uncle Jason often had a laugh about it. 

“I was not aware your daughter was…” Aemond says, turning his gaze to you “All grown up”

He knew about you, but your father talked about you as if you were a babe. You were practically his own age, for what he could tell.

“Yes, my little lion is certainly… grown” Tyland agrees, his hand on your hair as he spoke. “Come on; let’s not bother the prince…”

“It is not a bother” Aemond cuts him, serving himself more wine. “She is rather amusing”

“How dare you-!” You say, offended as you come to your defence.

“Sweetie” Your father tries to calm you, with a tense smile as if telling you to shut up.

“I am not a jester” 

“No one said you were” Aemond says, amused as he smirks. 

“You are such a…”

“Apologise” your father murmurs. 

“But fath-”

“You heard me”

“I am sorry, my prince” You say mockingly, and he smirks, even more amused.

Tyland seemed as if he was about to have a stroke, because he had enough things on his plate, and he didn’t need the prince making his life at the small council harder. 

Aemond sees Gemma, bringing her cats to show you how they were, all of them bloody, and squirmy, a bit pink and small. You petted them as you didn’t mind the blood.

“Come on. Servants will need to clean the blood” Tyland says, making a notion for you to stand up “Grab the kittens and let’s go”

“Ew, no. They are all bloody” You say frowning. “You take them” 

How lady-like. He thinks, as you didn't seem to mind the blood two seconds ago.

Even with your persistence, your father took the small and weak kittens, and your cat kept meowing at him as if he would kill him. 

“How did your cat even come here to give birth?” Your father asks as he tries to not get Gemma to kill him.

“I have no idea, father…” You say, and Aemond sees you standing up. 

He sees the pile of books in your hands, behind your back as you walk behind your father. You smart wench, he thinks, as you had just successfully stolen forbidden books by setting up your cat to give birth here. You even had him fooled. No one else notices, since your dress was puffy enough, and he noticed it by shamelessly trying to see your ass. 

You watch him, and press your index finger in your lips, as you walk behind your father and his complaints about your cat. 

“Do not bother the prince, darling” Tyland says once you get out of the library.

“I think he is quite handsome” you admit, when you know the prince won’t hear you. You father watches you shrug, walking forward him, not allowing him to see your hands. He sighs, as Gemma starts meowing loudly. 

While the rest of your interactions have been brief, he notices that you are more of a troublemaker than you let yourself look. You had that mischievous smirk always, arching your eyebrows in such a way when you had a plan. 

Yet, you were sweet. He notices how you play with your cousins, Cerelle, braiding her hair, and with Loreon, the small heir to Casterly Rock, a kid that enjoyed running around, and you often entertained his antics. 

“And there will be so many ladies, Aemond. In this time, we need alliances…” His mother says, as they walked through the castle. He hears the step of Cole behind them, guarding them, and probably hearing how his mother tried to make him a lovebird.

“It does not interest me”

“It doesn’t have to interest you. It is a matter of duty-”

“I won’t marry, mother.” Aemond shrugs, as if that was the way of his life. “Not yet. I have things ahead of me yet” 

“You inscribed on the tourney?” The queen inquires, curious. 

“No” he says shrugging, slyly trying to seek for you in the royal box, to no avail. “I am not in a hurry.”

He greeted noble ladies, of course. As he was seated on the royal box, bored and waiting, he could see girl after girl doing courtesy and smiling in a flirty way to him. It did not amuse him, and he was polite enough, almost rude. 

“She is trying really hard, you know” A voice joins his thoughts. It is you, sitting by the empty chair by his side, where Aegon is supposed to be, but he never is on time.

“Who isn’t?” He rolls his eye.

“I didn’t know you were so in demand. High valued. Sought after” you list, as you fan yourself as it was indeed a hot day. 

“Very amusing” He murmurs.

“Come on, my prince. There must be a lady who catches your attention.” 

“I am not blind” he says, rolling his good eye. “Of course there are women I find beautiful”

“Oh my... Having feelings now, congratulations, the Seven indeed are capable of the most... unthinkable miracles”

“You just woke up being so funny” he says, looking at you, raising his eyebrow, yet the small way his lips curved allowed you to know he was amused.

“I am always funny, my prince” you say watching the crowd get settled, squinting your eyes due to the sun. “My cats are good, thanks for asking. Gemma is quite the mother, even if she tried to eat one of them.”

"How... vivid." He says, raising his eyebrows in slight disgust.

"I saved them. Since they are four, I named them: Elia, Joy, Alyssa and Teora"

"And what if one of those silly cats was to be a male?" he asks, as if seeing a flaw in your cat-naming thing.

"Pff, none of them will be. I know it. And if they are, I won't change the names"

He remains quiet, surprised by how bold and petulant you could be. It was amusing to him, and he enjoyed talking to you more than he cared to admit.

“You stole from the library.” he reminds you.

“I have no idea what you are about” you say, still looking at the crowd, smiling softly. The red of your dress made your gold hair bright even more. “Ladies do not read such matters”

“Yeah, right. You are unlike any lady”

“Quite the contrary” you finally turn to see him “I am just like any other lady” you says, smiling. "It just happens that I am friends with the prince, so I am allowed to speak freely"

"Who said..." He says, opening his mouth and turning his face to you, a bit impressed by your silliness "How come you think... you suppose that we are friends?"

"Since you have neither sneaked about the time at the library, or told me to shut up and leave you alone, it is a logical conclusion, if we have in mind your previous reputation to anyone else." You say smiling. "And do not worry, if you do not consider me as such, doesn't matter, because I do and I appreciate you even if you hate me"

"You are..." He scoffs, grinning like a fool "Unbelievable"

"I know. One of my many charms. That and being a matchmaker. I love it. It is wonderful to make couples at court, and more if they end up together, being all happy and..."

“Huh.” He hums, thinking of how odd you were. “Talking about the wonders of a married life”

“I didn’t say that. I merely stated that… marriage isn’t the worst. I intend to find a husband very soon as well. I would very much like to be a wife”

“I shall pray for the poor soul who calls you wife” He murmurs as he looks at the field below, where the knights were preparing, yet you hear his grumbles. 

“And I shall pray to see prince Aemond besotted for a lady” you say teasingly, standing up, not before doing a small courtesy and leave to sit by your father, who had just arrived, frowning a bit as to why you were with prince Aemond.

The tournament does not bore him at all. He is very into the way the fight develops, and he takes mental notes when he sees some weaknesses in the participants. He regrets, just a bit, not joining, because he thinks he could have won. 

He sees you, on the seats below him, jumping in excitement as the fight develops. You are into it very much, clapping and screaming as any commoner does outside the royal box. It was improper, but it was… cute. 

He can see the rest, clapping politely, not overly excited yet proper for the occasion. You were unlike the rest, yet at the same time, you were just like any lady. It amazed him, and he did not understand.

He soon realises that he is not the only one that has you in mind, when the winner of the tournament comes closer to the stands, riding triumphantly in circles while the audience cheers him on, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty on his lance.

“The Winner, Ser Dale Dondarrion shall find his Queen of Love and Beauty”

He hesitates for some moments, he thinks he shall name his niece Jaehaera to win the favour of the royal house, like his ancestor once did to little princess Daenerys at the early reign of King Jaehaerys. 

Yet his smile faints when he sees that the queen of beauty’s laurel falls into your lap. 

“Lady Lannister, I hope I am deserving of dedicating my victory for you, and shall your reign be full of joy, even if lasting one night”

You take the wreath of flowers, almost jumping in sight and squealing some thanks as Tyland accommodates the crown onto your braided hair. Your crowning came with an ovation full of applause, from the box and from the commoners… but him. 

It was an odd feeling, stirring something in him, as he watches your cheeks pink from the compliments of all, and most of all; having a suitor. Being named queen of love and beauty was not anything like a dull compliment of court merely because it was proper. It was being publicly courted, and often something many ladies wished, because there was no better feeling than being shown off to everyone. 

He was quiet the rest of the day. Humming when ladies talked to him, in hopes to gain his attention and be courted; when Aegon mocked him; when Helaena placed one of her bugs in his lap, which Maelor ended up squeezing on his grip; when his mother presented him a lady of a high castle with expensive clothes and a sweet behaviour, pure, and devoted. He paid little attention to it all.

It was when your reign was coming to an end that he asks for Tyland to come to the empty throne room. He was watching the throne, carefully inspecting it, as he calculated of his next words. He was being irrational, clearly driven by his emotions and desperation rather than the logically he usually had. 

“My prince” 

Tyland was no stranger to the formalities of court, yet he never let himself be intimidated by lords that tried to impose themselves. He was the second son, yet he had established a name for himself and earned respect in his position; there was nothing for him to feel belittled about

Yet intimidation comes natural with prince Aemond around. 

He has the impression that his one eye is wide open, and the smirk that naturally was on his lip was one of amusement in the suffering of the rest. Always stoic, never doing things out of impulsivity... Which was even worse. His hands behind his back, as he remained as still as a statue.

It did not frighten him, but he knew Aemond was as cold as unforgiving. And slicing his head won’t make the prince feel regret.

“Lord Tyland” Aemond greets him softly. 

A silence follows, as Tyland feels his hand sweating slightly. “An idea for the small council?” He tries to guess. “I am sure it can wait, my prince, I should be with my daughter, since it’s her day…”

“Exactly. That’s what I wanted to speak about”

Tyland is a smart man, and he quickly realises the problem.

“I know she can be presumptuous and slightly spoiled, my prince” He starts, feeling Aemond’s eye on him as he turns to face him. “She takes the title too seriously, when it isn’t, Mushroom was just hyping her up, and she is just still a girl, and I apologise on her behalf for trying to impose herself as Queen, when her reign only lasts for a day, and she really is…”

“I want to marry her” Aemond tells Tyland simply. “Her reign shall not end. She can be a princess.”

Lannisters usually aren’t left speechless. They had never been known for their silence, yet here he is, silent.

“Ser Dondarrion made the same proposal hours earlier, my prince, and I…”

“And you will allow your daughter to marry a Ser instead of a prince? I have already told you. I want to be her husband” He insists, his tone not certainly soft as he loses patience. His soul craves you. He needs to be yours. He can’t let you go away. “She is smart and she has the wits. She is spoiled, and she loves to have her way. She is kind, sweet, and funny. And I want to be her husband and give her anything she asks for. Is that so hard to get?”

What wakes up Queen Alicent is her son with a stoic expression, not even entering her rooms to speak.

“I was wrong” He says simply “I shall marry Lady Lannister, mother. I am in a hurry. So I ask you to prepare the wedding. Good night and Seven blessings”

Almost a year later is when your father comes closer to your chambers once again, seeing how your ladies in waiting do a courtesy out of politeness, and he watches prince Aemond at your door, waiting for him.

“Came as fast as I could…”

“Hm” Aemond says, as he walks toward the open doors.

Tyland could have his distance with Prince Aemond, but he couldn’t deny how good a husband he was. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, in his perspective, yet he was a devoted husband. He danced as many times you wanted in the ceremony, sighing every time you made him stand up from his seat. He didn’t wear the eye patch on your wedding, just as you requested.

“That is the worst idea ever, darling” He said to you, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, he will have to if he wants to marry me”

And so he did. When you wanted to travel to Volantis, he arranged it all. When you wanted for him to meet Brightroar, he took Vhagar and rode into the Westerlands with you. 

“Was it all well?”

“Everyone in the castle heard a lion roar” Aemond says walking past the maesters. 

You seemed so little, in Tyland’s eyes, all sweaty and tired, like the time you got so sick he was afraid you would die. He had brought the very best maesters he could find, just to assure you were safe. 

“It is a girl” It’s the first thing you say to your father, smiling a bit. “A healthy baby”

Tyland leans, to kiss your forehead, as you extend your babe to him. It was a small thing, yet chubby and all pink still. She had small, silver hair, very thin, but present. He could see the little gold spot, as if gold hair would grow on some of her hair. It was indeed curious, and yet he couldn’t think she was anything but perfect.

“A bit squirmy” He comments, as the baby yawns, opening her mouth as she whines slightly. 

As he tries to coo the small thing, he watches how Aegon sits by your side, at the edge of the bed, passing his hand behind your shoulders to caress your shoulder. You lean against him a bit, and say.

“It is a pain to breastfeed, why didn’t you tell me?”

He chuckles a bit awkwardly, he had never gotten used to your bluntness and honesty. “I never knew anything about that”

“Well, it is. I thought babies knew how to do it, but she takes a long time” You say, looking up at Aemond.

“She is still very little, my love” Aemond reminds you. 

“I know, but what if I am doing it wrongly? Mothers usually know those things, and I find myself clueless. Aunt Joanna says it comes naturally, but she has successfully raised kids who have survived childhood.” You say, looking at Aemond. “So has your mother. How comes I don’t know?”

“Because you are a mother from little more than a day.” Aemond reminds you “And they had help. So you do. You have me, of course. You have wet nurses, maids, maesters, and my own mother and of course, you have the brightest mind. We’ll do”

“Did you know Aemond cried, father?” You tell him, and he finally looks away from his little granddaughter. 

He blinks, a bit confused, watching the prince. “Oh, did he?” 

“Yeah, it was rather cute” Aemond rolls his eye amused, as your hand was on his knee. 

“It’s the only natural response.” Tyland says, his finger caressing the skin of the sleeping babe, who squirmed a bit at the feeling, like a cat. “She is delightful. Have you named her?”

Aemond looks at you, amused, expecting you to answer the question. You had the smug grin on your face, and nodded. “We had a deal. If she had golden hair, she would have a Targaryen name. If she had silver hair, she would have a Lannister name”

“And?”

“Well, she is rather… peculiar. She had silver hair, but you can see how some gold hair has grown too? It is the oddest of things, but the Maesters said it was natural. You know how cats have different hair colours?”

“Don’t compare her to a cat” Tyland makes a face, softly rocking her in his arms.

“She has both silver and gold.” Aemond says, as if reminding you to keep on trail. 

“Ah, yes. Since it’s most silver, we agreed on something that you will find the brightest things, father.” You look at your husband and then your father. “Gaemma. It’s a bit… weird to say it, but with time it shall be delightful”

Tyland looks at you, and he blinks. “Like your cat?”

“Well, thanks to her I and Aemond met.” You remind him. “She deserves some credit” You add.

“I like it” he murmurs. “Don’t make your mama lose her mind” He says, as the baby yawn, extending her arms. 

“She will, after all she is her mother’s daughter” Aemond says, taking her back, and he adds “You should have seen how loud she wailed once she came.”

“I am here, world. Hear me roar” you say, as if trying to translate Gaemma’s cries. You smile widely, and Tyland knows that even if you were always going to be his little girl, you were in the best hands, and that Aemond adored the ground you walked on. Even if you name their child after your cat. 

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[die-auster]

Some "if Yue is alive and went travelling with the Gaang" designs

With a ton of text about cultural inspiration.

The main book 2 look

I wanted to show cultural differences between the tribes, so Yue's look is sort of Mongolian. There were Mongolian-styled hats in the Northern tribe, and Yue's dress under the coat looked like a Mongolian deel (thanks @atlaculture for all these posts about clothes and everything else!), so it's not much against the canon information.

So she's wearing a deel again with a second layer - there are chinese actors on photos as far as I know; I hope it's okay. One-shoulder silhouette refers to later Aang's clothes because Yue is still kind of a spiritual person (she wasn't a fighter, so I want her to have some other useful talent – not a bender or healer like Katara or a non-bender warrior like Suki). Violet, pink and white were originally her colors, no changes here. Three blue characters would be too much for a group of five, and total white is not practical at all. I like to think that violet color shows high rank in the Avatar universe; in the original series it was only worn by princess Yue, Kanna, the chief Hakoda's mother, and by king Bumi.

Yue's boots here are mongolian gutals/gutuls (the collage is already big, but I used them again for one of Book 3-looks).

Her hair become simpler – just two braids and a hairpiece, to match her previous decorated hairdo. I guess if she's travelling with the Gaang she's not that much of a Moon Spirit anymore (maybe she returned the part of the moon spirit that saved her and was healed other way?), so I decided to forego the moon-referring part. Also it will be easier to do by herself since she has no servants now... The headdress I took from modern Mongolian dancers; the front part is crescent-moon-shaped.

The Ba Sing Se dress

I fell in love with this Ao Dai dress, it's simple, long and elegant. But... it's mostly Vietnamese… and I'm afraid that it's modern and not historically accurate. Also it does not really go together with other Ba Sing Se dresses :( because I did not want to just copy-paste some background look. But there is at least one dress with a tail, thigh high slits and a standing collar on the dress underneath, so... I guess my choice is not that bad? The tail makes her look more royal. The fan is the same which Toph and Katara had. For the palette I chose Yue's white color with EK greens and warm yellow/ochre to match Katara and Toph. The hairdo is copied from the series; I chose one with the tassel on the right, to refer the NWT/Korean accessories.

The Fire Nation disguise

A confession – I don't like FN clothes. I wasn't sure if I would be able to do it properly, so I almost copied that attire (left one) – asymmetry, as a Thai touch, which again matches Aang's Invasion Buddhist-like clothes. The palette keeps Yue's signature white, with some pink of a warmer shade, as they wear it in the Fire Nation. And the "royal" long skirt, 'cause she's still not a fighter. The look is simplified so I could not keep zigzag ornament on her longyi skirt, therefore I moved it onto the top part.

I used Thai dancers jewelry and... flip flops? idk how they are called in Southeast Asia (don't like Sokka and Katara's FN shoes at all, why the design is so complicated?).

For covering her hair I used a turban, inspired by Myanmar turbans; a white one, so if some hair will show, it won't be too noticeable. Also Yue could still be easily recognised on screen/page by her white head. The long end of the fabric on her right resembles burmese hairstyle silhouette.

The Invasion-and-till-finale look

For her dress I used a deel (again); the sleeveless jacket is an hommage to her original design and has some Korean vibes, like Toph's Ba Sing Se dress (at least I hope so). Katara and Sokka's season 1 looks have Korean influence, so I guess it's okay. Gutals are from her Book 2 main look. I have a soft spot for them.

My favorite thing is her hair :)))) It's a mix of Inuit/Mongolian braids and a hairpiece, also from the Book 2 look. This time there will be more braids. Two on the front – I wanted to keep them from her original hairdo, but now they are braided together (I saw this on the Alaskan Inuit/Eskimo women photos). On the back there are five, inspired by a Mongolian hairdo for young unmarried girls, who wore multiple braids. I decided to make five, because Alaskian Inuit language uses this amount for counting and with two front braids it'll make seven, which is a lucky Mongolian number. And in theory a limited number should be easier to animate.

The post-canon noble look

After the final battle I thought Yue will come back to Agna Qel'a and become a more active political figure. I chose a white kuspuk (blue color is still for Katara and Sokka), showing that she is ready to lead her tribe after this journey, not the passive perfect princess she was before. "She is associated in canon with the masculine yang of the yin and yang and the moon which, in most Inuit and Eskimo cultures, is considered masculine as well. While white kuspuks are associated with men and specifically family patriarchs, a feminine kuspuk in white makes plenty of sense for Yue's character" – @mostly-mundane-atla helped me a lot with the cultural meaning of the clothes (I am so grateful!). Also it's an hommage to her total-white Moon Spirit look. And I changed her hair again to Greenland updo with two tied braids on the front – more complicated than the simple braids she wore during the journey. It looks formal.

NWT is less Inuit-inspired and has a strong Mongolian touch (to make them look more "modern"? dunno) but I guess the formal wear for the spiritual princess could refer to older traditions. Which should be the same with SWT, 'cause SWT was originally a part of NWT – or so I heard. For example, Kuruk, the NWT Avatar who lived about 400 years ago, has nothing Mongolian in his look.

All the looks are simplified to match the style of the original cartoon. I know there should be more details and embroidery, but my goal here was to draw something (at least theoretically) applicable for animation. And no Hahn's betrothal necklace of course.

Also I want to mention here other great Yue designs, since they are the inspiration behind the overall idea of the post – the moon looks and "Yue joins the Gaang" outfits by amazingly talented @chiptrillino.

P.S.: an important note

This is my first attempt ever to design outfits that could fit the world of A:tLA. I am not Asian or ingenious, not an expert in their cultures or costume history at all, not a professional character designer. I am just a fan who tried to create designs with respect to real cultures and people. Nothing here was supposed to be offensive in any way. If something still is – please inform me so I could fix it as soon as possible.

I hope, as a fan, I have the right to draw fanarts looking for an inspiration in the cultures that inspired the original cartoon.

If you see mistakes in my post, be it in drawings or a text, also feel free to tell me. I will deeply appreciate it.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Rewound Infinitely

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Part one: Infinite Rewind

Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.

Word Count: 8.6k

(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)

Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same. 

Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.

You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking. 

Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him. 

You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-

"—You're late!" 

His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak. 

And Gojo Satoru is pouting. 

It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit. 

"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"

You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy. 

He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair. 

"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny." 

His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary. 

"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes." 

"Hm?" 

One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique. 

Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.

"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him. 

He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget." 

The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir." 

What?

Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you. 

"Do you have any preferences?" 

You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both. 

Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw. 

This morning. That felt like centuries ago. 

She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile. 

"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash." 

She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?" 

Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile. 

"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..." 

Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid. 

"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror. 

Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes. 

When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot. 

"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go." 

"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—" 

It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique. 

You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.

Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look. 

"Just tell me what's going on—" 

"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!" 

And then he's gone.

You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.  

There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under. 

And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.

Seriously, what else did you expect? 

Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed. 

"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?" 

One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up. 

"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore. 

"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself. 

He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge." 

The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile. 

"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress." 

"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!" 

She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments. 

"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you." 

When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder. 

"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight. 

"Get off." Fushiguro gripes. 

"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her." 

Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru. 

"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around. 

"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up." 

"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes." 

"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage. 

"Salmon," says Inumaki. 

"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around. 

"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue. 

"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks. 

"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously. 

They stop squabbling. 

"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low." 

"Super low." Maki agrees. 

"Salmon." 

"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her. 

"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building. 

"What's going on in that place anyway?" 

They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?

"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks. 

You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.

"That sounds like him." Panda nods. 

"Idiot," Maki says.

"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.

"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome. 

You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru. 

These were Gojo Satoru's students. 

You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them. 

"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift." 

"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!" 

You still felt a bit guilty. 

"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit. 

"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway." 

"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts. 

"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—" 

He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused. 

"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?" 

"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'." 

"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now." 

"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits. 

Something warm bubbles in your stomach. 

"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?" 

You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague. 

"I knew him as a kid." 

It's Panda who gets the most excited about this. 

"Really? What was he like as a teenager?" 

"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed." 

They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly. 

Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving. 

"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone." 

You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding. 

Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything. 

"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod. 

"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show. 

Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting. 

You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas. 

It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks. 

But why was he already up there? Shouldn't he be—

"Sensei's coming!" Okkotsu whisper-yells. Inumaki hushes him.

Everyone turns to face the door. You do, too. 

Your heart stops when you see him. 

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. 

You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly. 

Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak. 

But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.

Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth. 

His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—

You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him. 

 When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue. 

"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement. 

ⴵ

Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start. 

He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.

"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?" 

"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec." 

He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless. 

"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice. 

"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says. 

"The bartender could ID them." You suggest. 

"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response. 

“What’d you think of them?”

“Hm?”

“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”

Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.

“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”

He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.

“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”

You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.

Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around. 

"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself. 

"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself. 

Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing. 

"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.

He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo. 

"Guess," Gojo says. 

Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint. 

"Brocolli head?" 

He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.  

"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"

 He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck. 

You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other. 

In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode. 

"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me." 

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is. 

Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always. 

"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that." 

"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time." 

That makes him frown even more. You laugh. 

"Yu." Haibara suddenly says. 

You turn to him. 

"My friends call me Yu." 

It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant. 

"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit." 

Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu. 

"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?" 

"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people." 

He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.

Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people. 

Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude. 

"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?" 

"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name. 

Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass. 

You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did. 

But you can change that now. 

"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato." 

She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all. 

"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?" 

Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles. 

You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it. 

"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about." 

His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student. 

Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating. 

Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry." 

"Don't be rude, Kento." 

Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him. 

"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would. 

Then, her head tilts. 

"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow." 

Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her. 

Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket. 

You shrug. "I must have one of those faces." 

The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be. 

"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost." 

She shrugged. 

"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers." 

Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs. 

"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years." 

Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans. 

"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says. 

"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date." 

"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves. 

"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants." 

It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him. 

No, of course, he would do that. Ass. 

"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking." 

"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser. 

Friends. Back then, he only had one of those. 

"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough. 

You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko. 

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready." 

You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other. 

Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.

"Did Satoru....abduct you?" 

"What?" 

"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.

Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments. 

Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru. 

It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.

Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.

The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.

You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.

But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.

You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.

You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?

You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.

This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.

It’s justice, but did that make it right?

“Want one?”

The voice makes you jump.

He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.

You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.

You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.

Your fingers twitch.

“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”

“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”

You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—

“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”

He hums in approval.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.

“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.

“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”

The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.

“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”

“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.

Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.

And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru. 

“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”

He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.

“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”

His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.

You were glad, too.

This death is a lot more painful than the others. 

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die. 

You forgive Suguru.

“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.

He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.

He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.

“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.

“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.

“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”

You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.

“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”

You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.

“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.

You forgive Suguru.

He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”

An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.

A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.

“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”

He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.

“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”

You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.

“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.

“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru. 

“Are you and him…” he trails off.

“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”

You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”

He whistles.

“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.

“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”

You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.

You are the only person in the world who knows him.

He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.

When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.

But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.

He’d do it again, in the right conditions.

And yet.

You forgive Suguru.

You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.

Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.

You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile. 

And that's enough.

“I will,” you say, “I will.”

Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.

ⴵ

The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.

You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.

“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”

“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”

“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.

“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.

“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.

“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”

“Of course not.” You crack a smile.

You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.

Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.

“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”

You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.

“What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.

That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.

“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.

“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.

“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.

“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”

“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”

You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.

He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.

Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.

“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling

You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.

ⴵ

Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.

It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.

The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.

You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.

You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.

Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.

“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.

“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”

You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”

“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”

You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.

“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”

“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.

And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.

You flex your fingers.

“Um, how have you—”

“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”

You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.

“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”

You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.

The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.

“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.

“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”

He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.

"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me." 

His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek. 

"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-" 

"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged." 

"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.

“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.

“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”

There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.

You put your face in your hands.

“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”

Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.

“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”

“See what?” You ask.

“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.

“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”

Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—

The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.

“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.

“Thank you for saving all of us.”

Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.

And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.

"Did you just fall for me a little?"

His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.

You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute." 

"You think I'm cute?" 

"Did you hear anything else that I just said?" 

"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.

“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”

You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...

“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”

He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.

“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”

When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.

“That person sounds smart.”

“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”

You laugh, despite the insult.

“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”

It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.

“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”

He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.

You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.

There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.

And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.

When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.

“So...about that dance?”

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.

He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.

You don’t mind.

(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.

By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.

She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.

“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”

Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?

You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.

He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.

It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.

Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.

Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.

He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.

“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”

You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.

He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.

Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.

He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.

And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[bunnys-kisses]

baby fever

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy, filthy, husband!price, slight age gap (reader is early 20s, price late 30s), military formal wear, oral (m receiving), doggy style, unprotected

bunny says: i thought about built/chubby price and him in his military formals and my brain turned off. this was the end result.

price wasn't beating the bear allegations. while he wasn't a gay bear, he knew that there were a lot of women who loved his physique. dusting of hair, built but enjoyed a good sunday roast. thick fingers and broad tongue. he was a built man after his years of service.

but if price had to pin you as an animal, it would be his little chickadee. small and fragile with a cute little song. the most loveliest thing he had ever laid his eyes on. no wonder within a year of dating, you were already engaged.

price knew when he had a good thing going and didn't want to ruin it. you were still in university, but he'd never make his darling girl quit school for his sake.

"'ey, love." he said as he walked past you on your laptop. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, "studyin' well?"

you looked over and smiled at him, "of course, big bear." you took him by the face and kissed him on the cheek. your engagement ring gleamed in the light of the living room.

but even the brightest university students could easily crumble against a man like price. it didn't help that there was a spike in your baby fever. it was almost embarrassing when you watched price in the living room, shining his uniform boots. it also didn't help when he was making sure that formal attire still fit.

he noticed you staring, you didn't try to hide it.

he stood there in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom. the beret, the jacket, the medals. hands on his hips as he looked at you. he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the sight of your jaw almost on the floor.

"tryin' to see if everythin' still fit. need to go back to the gym, your cookin' is gonna be the death of me, love." he chuckled. he dragged his tongue across his top teeth and said, "now that i know, why don't ya help me get out of it."

maybe a man in uniform was your (not-so) secret kink. you've seen him in everything under the sun, but every time it still made your throat dry. you were in your sunday pajamas, paired with fuzzy slippers.

he reached out for you, "ya like when i'm dressed like this, huh?" he chuckled as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of your head.

"i mean." you said, "you look good." you blushed a little bit more and looked away from him, but he took you by the chin to look at him. those blue eyes peered into yours.

"don't be shy, love." he said, "i like when ya stare."

you held onto the front of his jacket, the thick material felt heavy in your grasp. you could feel the wetness between your legs. damn price. you said, "you look good, big bear."

he reached down and took a handful of your ass, "and you look even better, my chickadee. now c'mon, undress yer man." then licked his top lip at the sight of your delicate hands trying to undo the formal jacket. he then took you by the head again and said, "pants first." then helped you onto your knees.

you swallowed and looked up at him. if anyone looked inside, they'd see a weird power dynamic. but all price saw was an eager little birdie trying to get her hands on her husband.

"those medals look nice." you said as he reached for his belt.

he chuckled, "not as nice as your lips on my cock." then dragged a hand through your hair. the belt soon came off as his pants were unzipped. he was thankful that he knew how to get any stains out of his uniform, because he knew you were a messy girl.

you took his cock out of his slacks. it stood was full attention and even after all this time together, the sight of it was still arousing. cut, thick, a deep pink (not quite red) and almost eight inches in length. you once joked it was a "porno dick".

you kissed the underside of it with such warmth that it made the man shudder. then started the slow, small licks against the shaft. you chuckled to yourself at the feeling of his cock under your tongue. he felt like a dream.

"that's a good girl. my darlin' girl." he said with a hint of pride in his voice. he loved the sight of you on his knees. even if the sweat down his back was making the heavy jacket more uncomfortable.

you stroked the base of his cock with one hand while you put your mouth fully on the tip. you teased it with wet strokes of you tongue. you could hear the gruff noise your husband made.

you squirmed a little while on your knees and could feel a dull throb between your legs. price's cock was an impressive sight and a task to fully get in your mouth.

"ya got a small mouth, love.' he remarked jokingly, "too small for all of this. but i know you'll do your best.' he combed his fingers through your hair once more before it rested on the back of your head.

he supported your head while you continued to orally pleasure him. he loved his woman on her knees in front of him. while he held you in high regard, he thought you were the sweetest things since strawberries on cake, but there was something about seeing HIS woman like this.

you looked up at him and a groan got caught in his throat. you gave him a cute little wink before you continued to stroke him off. your other hand was on his strong thigh for support as you pleasured him.

"oh sweet fuck." he groaned.

you knew you'd never take all of him in your throat but you made the most of what you could. his cock was heavy in your mouth as you continued to move your head.

he gripped the back of your head, he felt hot all over as pleasure pumped through his veins. he loved his girl, his darling sweet angel. yeah the age difference was to raise an eyebrow at. but if they knew the angel he managed to get a ring on, they'd understand.

his little chickadee.

you looked up at him once more. the way he looked down at you with a guiding hand on the back of your head. you pulled your mouth off his cock and looked up at him with your tongue out of your mouth.

"fuckin' doll eyes." he said, "get back to what you were doin', i want to see you take every last drop."

you once again went back to orally pleasuring him. your hand dug into the meat of his thigh as you tried to take more of his cock in your throat. the noises that came from your husband made your core ache.

the bright pink in his cheeks made you smile as he messed up with hair with his broad hands. he felt so big next to you. his little precious wife doing everything in her power to get him off.

with a few more thrusts of your head with his cock nudging the back of your throat. you moved to keep the tip against your tongue as he came down your throat. you didn't want to choke on his cum but you savored every last salty drop.

maybe a man in uniform did things to you.

when you pulled away, you looked up at him. "i want you, john." you said as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand, "i want to have your babies." the baby fever was thrumming in your veins, "fuck me, big bear."

he raised an eyebrow, "babies, huh? i thought you wanted to be a working woman." he said cheekily.

you rose to your feet, your legs were shaky as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform jacket and kissed him deeply. you almost toppled over him but he held you by the middle for support. when you pulled away, you panted as you said, "breed me price, or i'll find someone else to do it."

his expression darkened, "don't be sayin' things like that, love." he pulled you close to him. his cock was still hard between you two, "you better not run off with some runt." he kissed your heated cheek, "now face down, ass up, chickadee."

you pulled away from him and turned towards the bed. you shredded your clothes and almost threw yourself onto the large mattress. your face against the pillow with your back arched and hips raised.

you felt the bed sink soon after with your husband's large hands on your hips and his cock rested against your ass.

"your uniform." you squeaked.

"i'll iron it tonight." he replied, "right now, my darlin' girl needs her pussy fucked." his vulgar language made a shiver run through you.

when he bottomed out into your pussy, you felt the air escape your lungs. you clutched onto the pillow. he got a perfect view of your backside, his gaze felt hungry against you.

"please."

"my darlin' girl." price said softly. he leaned in and kissed you on the shoulder. you felt like a tight heat around him. "my beautiful wife." price adored that you were his wife. that you decided to marry him, now he got to feel up your beautiful figure every moment.

"god, john." you moaned, "was it always this damn big?"

he chuckled lowly, "you make me hard, love. i see ya and i just go wild." he then started to kiss at your shoulders and neck.

you held onto the pillow and panted in the pillows. you felt the sweat at your back as you were fucked. you panted into the fabric and felt your husband thrust into you.

"sweeter than jam and more fuckable than a toy." he chuckled lowly as he began to pick up the pace. he could feel your heat under him, you were a dream in his eyes.

the precious wife to be a beloved captain, almost twenty years her senior. the bed creaked under your movements and the sweet sounds of your sex filled the air. it was also joined by your sweet noises that encouraged your husband to keep fucking you.

you felt hot all over as the man fucked you. the pleasure rolled through your body as you moved against the bed. you panted and moaned into the pillow and let your husband thrust into you.

"my sweet girl." he purred.

"please, john." you whined.

the sex between you two felt hot, like you were on a knife's edge as he rutted against you. you could feel the heat pool in your gut as he moved against you. sweat clung to your chest and neck. your hair stuck against your skin.

"that's it." he murmured. his cock throbbed inside of you.

your love making continued, you pushed the hair out of your eyes the more he fucked you from behind. your hands were deep in the pillow as you moaned into the fabric.

price loved the sight of you. he just thought that you looked amazing, HIS girl was like this under him. he was your big strong bear and he loved the sight of you under him. just a dream to him. his heat raced in his hairy chest as he placed more weight on you.

"shit, john." you groaned.

"I got ya. i'll be finishin' in ya soon. give ya all the babes you want." he chuckled as he kissed your heated cheek. his thrusts were quick and made you see stars behind your lids.

you were heated all over and your head was swimming. you panted wildly into the bed and with a few more strokes of his cock, you came around him.

price groaned at intense heat around his cock. he went as fast as he could and felt the sweat down his toned back. he pressed himself further into you and finished.

his cum shot to the back of your cunt and you let out a pleased noise. his pace slowed down until he stopped and pulled out. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his hairy chest, "how's that, love?"

you laid fully flat on the bed and nodded your head, "we're going to have to keep goin' though, big bear. you've done so much damage to yourself that your swimmers aren't as strong as they used to be." so you rolled onto your back and reached for him, "c'mon. fuck me again."

he chuckled as he leaned back on his heels and stroked his cock, "of course chickadee. anythin' for ya."

[etfrin]

⤷❝ The Quiet Gift | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | squirting, Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, possessiveness, fingering (f. receiving), bathroom sex, mirror sex, semi-public sex (there was a gala), pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), dumbfication if you squint, dom sub undertones, degradation, ownership kink, breath play with a twist | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: continuation of the arranged marriage au, this is your one year anniversary with him with a gala held in place to celebrate, you get insecure because of some bitches and Coryo fucks you in the bathroom with sprinkles of your daily life with him.

⇢☾Request: this is a request (idk if i’m writing it in the write place im new to tumblr i usually use wattpad) young coriolanus snow bathroom mirror sex like him making u watch ur self come undone in the mirror

⇢☾A/N: enjoy everyone! And to one who requested, hope you like this! :) this might be my last post of this theme btw, i am getting sick of the blue :/

arranged marriage au: the study, mine to love

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

A year had passed of your marriage, a bond between two souls which wasn't much of a lie as before. Things with Coryo were better than you could ever expect. You thought he would isolate himself from you after your confession but so much had changed. He had gotten softer but more possessive. His edges are sharp yet he makes sure it's a shield for you, not something that would make you bleed.

Among his actions include changing your entire wardrobe (not without your opinion first), a library that connects to his office (his office is something you have access to at all times now), his room was now yours both (your favorite change), and last but not least a poison taster was included so that no attempts of assassination at the First Lady could be taken.

At first, you thought it to be extra, but knowing that it would put his paranoid mind at peace you allow it without much to say. He picked out your outfit every day, and sometimes you did the same for Coriolanus. He would frown as you decide what to wear or not for him for the day, knowing that some of the pieces don't match his style but when he sees your smile as you pick out the clothes. He smooths his frown and takes whatever horrible fashion statement you created for him and wears it with pride.

If anyone dared to speak up about it, he proudly said that his wife picked it out and everyone knew better than to speak a single ill word of the unspoken Queen of Panem.

Today was one of those days when you decided to pick his outfit. Today was something special after all. One year had passed since you had become Mrs. Snow, and a gala was to be held tonight to celebrate the union.

So yes, you were going to pick his outfit. You had even woken up early because of it. You giggled as you opened your eyes, your arm around Coryo whose hair looked impossibly messy, sticking out everywhere. It made him look years younger than he was. You chuckled at the sight, your heart clenching with the love you have for this man. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. You whispered, not expecting him to wake up until his alarm rang, “Good morning, Coryo”

You quietly slipped away from the bed and tiptoeed to the closet. The closet you both shared now. One side carrying every single piece of your clothing and the other side his. You wanted to pick out something different for your husband once, sick of seeing him in his white shirts and black vest. That's how you picked out a black suit with a white vest and a red silk shirt. You could imagine unbuttoning this off of him tonight and the thought made your body heat up and a giggle escaped your lips.

“What are you laughing about, doll?” A voice, his deep sleepy voice startling you. “Nothing!” You quickly said, turning to look at Snow, your breath hitching as his eyes were half closed and his hair turned into a mess of curls. Sometimes you wonder if this was all a fever dream and if you truly have the privilege of seeing him like this. You placed the clothes into a corner and went to him.

You pulled him down, your hand on his nape and another on his cheek as you guided him to your lips. Morning breath be damned. His actions were reflexive with how his arms pulled you in closer as his lips pressed into yours. He smiles against your lips and soon both of your tongues tangle in an uncoordinated sleepy manner and you whimper into his mouth.

This was real. This was your reality and you would do everything to keep it as it is. You pulled back and he whispered, “What was that for, doll?”

“Just needed to make sure this was real,” you answered him. Your words make him crack a real smile, something even you saw rarely and it would only be possible in moments like this. Moments when you have shocked the man with your actions and words and made him fall harder for you.

“Well it is,” he grins. Before his expression clears up he focuses on the clothes you have set aside. “Outfit for today?” He asked. You nod and smile at him, gesturing at the clothes. “You would look handsome in them,” you said. “Don't I always look handsome?” He smirks, you laugh, “I am not falling for that trap, dear husband. I'll be in the shower, choose something for me.” You press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the closet.

After showering and wearing the red dress he had decided, both of you go on for your respective duties. The gala would start early in the day and there were a few hours left before it formally started as guests were already coming in.

The mansion was set up beautifully, no words could have possibly explained the amount of work and dedication to make this the event of the year, valued higher than the Hunger Games itself. In another universe, it may not have been possible, in this one however you somehow managed to crack into his heart and made yourself a higher priority.

You were doing finishing touches of your makeup when Corio came in, his hair slicked back but his body tense, his eyes unable to hide the shakiness in them. You don't say anything, letting the man have his moment of vulnerability. You knew you would mess him up even more if you pointed it out, so you continued your task.

You didn't pay him any attention despite the itch to turn to him. You force yourself to stare straight into the mirror, applying your lipstick for the night. That was until he came behind you, his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his head propped on your shoulder as you felt him take deep breaths.

You don't ask if anything is wrong, accepting the rare form of intimacy he initiated. Usually, you're the ones for the hugs, the genuine ones anyway. You knew despite everything you were like a math equation to Snow. His mind figured out the formulas to keep you to him forever, you doubted if he saw anyone as his equal but you were perhaps the closest thing to it.

You had accepted it long before, but moments like this when Coriolanus allowed himself to be a human meant everything to you. You fell for every version of him, the one that is an untouchable deity who could kill you without guilt, and the human he was, obsession filling in veins making you the sole objective of his mind as he already achieved Panem.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths with him. In the end, you were human too and you broke. “What's wrong?” You asked, as softly as possible yet breaking the bubble that had formed.

He smirks through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, a sense of superiority in the blue hues. “Nothing’s wrong, my doll,” he whispered to you, pressing a ghost-like kiss to your bare shoulder. His arms cage you tighter, making a small gasp on your lips. “Okay,” you smile at him.

“Ready to start the gala then?” You asked, “Snows are born ready,” he replied, his tone smug.

One of his arms was kept wrapped around his waist while the other opened a drawer to take out a small box. “For you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck. You opened the box, and in it was a gold necklace with the initial ‘S’. You blush, and leave it to Corio to give you a necklace with his initials for an anniversary gift. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your head turning back and you gave him the brightest smile. “Help me wear it?” You mumbled as you handed him the box.

And so he did, and now a necklace was on your neck, the letter ‘S’ sitting perfectly on your skin. It scratched an innate itch for Snow to see you wear this. A part of him had expected you to fight, and be disgusted by this action, his mind thinking of several ways to make (force) you to wear the necklace. But as always you surprised him with your acceptance, as if you knew that wearing this would help him with his possessiveness. You were truly the right woman for him.

With his arm around your waist, you walk into the celebration. Countless people, the top elites of the Capitol were attending the gala. Everything had to be perfect.

Alas, fate is nothing but fickle.

The rumors didn't catch your ears at first before slowly the whispers caught up to you. Too busy with your life in the mansion and with Coriolanus, you rarely were social. You never had many friends from the capitols' elites. And those who knew were merely allies for the future. So the gossip never reached your ears.

Gossip you knew better to believe. Words change when they travel mouth to mouth. It can be easily manipulated too, your husband was a living proof of that. The snake tongue of all of Panem. But when the words seemed to get louder and louder, you couldn't help but feel maybe it's tinged with truth.

Snow was busy talking to diplomats while you were politely having a conversation with the ladies. That's when the questions began about some things they had heard about Snow. Each worse than the other but nothing you didn't already know. You make sure to change their perspective whenever something new comes up. Coriolanus was still new at this position, anything could snatch the power away if either of you weren't careful.

Feeling like you have finished the job, you begin to move away, only to stop when you hear, “...even wearing a pendant with his initial, she's nothing more than a whore who was pushed up to play the role of the First Lady. A woman of her standing would never deserve such a title.”

It was true, when Snow asked you to marry you, it was sudden and he gained nothing from it. Nothing, no money, power, and just a few connections you had but he had already impressed them all beforehand so there was no need for you. Your history in the academy wasn't all that great either, you were never the best but wholly average. A man like Snow deserved the best.

Insecurity claws at your heart and even so with recent events you knew their words were wrong. Tears burned your eyes. Your hand goes to the necklace you had on, your fingers twirling the pendant. Meanwhile, despite Coriolanus' focus being mainly on talking sweet to the guests and gathering sponsors, his eyes were on you, your every moment, and each person you spoke to. He notices you walking away from the gala and into the hallways. He followed you.

You were in one of the many bathrooms the manor had to offer. You stared at the mirror, the necklace you were wearing, and your hands traveled to the back ready to take it off. That's when Coriolanus enters the bathroom, his footsteps stopping midtrack as you freeze too.

“Coryo,” you begin to speak, your hand at your side now. “I was just-” “Why were you going to take it off?” He interrupted you, his face twisted in a glare you never thought would be directed at you. You shrugged, trying to play casual, “It doesn't feel appropriate.” “Why?” He questioned his tone icy calm, spreading chills down your spine. “Because-” because you didn't feel worthy of it. “Because you're ashamed of me,” he scoffs, walking closer to you. His eyes now fully glaring at you.

You frown, “What? Coryo, no-” He tilts your chin up, as he leans in, his expression twisted in fury, “Then what? There's no other appropriate reason for you to take it off then.” In truth, something was getting lost in translation, the women you were talking to earlier were going to be accused of treason in a few days. The cause? The rumors (some truth mixed in as well) they had spread about Snow. They were invited out of courtesy and after this, they had signed their death certificate.

“It's nothing like-” “Then what?” He hissed, “Did you finally come to your senses? Did they tell you how much of a horrible monster I am? And a horrible president?” You knew some sort of major miscommunication had happened but you had no idea how to deal with it. Not when Snow pressed a harsh, hard kiss to your lips, teeth clashing and his tongue seemingly fighting with yours for dominance that you easily gave over.

“You can't escape me, doll. No matter how horrible you realize I am. Think about running away and it's your dead body that will be leaving this mansion.” he whispered against your lips, his hands on your waist, your body flushed against his as your back hit the counter.

You chuckled at his words, knowing that would never be your end. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and it makes you giggle even further. “Dove, I am not joking,” he said, looking straight in your eyes. “I know,” you smile at him, “You…” you shake your head, smiling, you were surely crazier than him. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Those women said something… mean and it made me realize I may not be worthy of this necklace…” you begin to explain, hoping the explanation would calm him down.

You thought wrong. “You don't think I can decide who deserves to be my property, pet. Whom I let to be my queen,” he said, his tone deeper than before. He whispered, “I decided it's you. It's been a year since that decision and I haven't regretted it once.”

He manovaroued you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is mine. My pet. My wife. How dare you try to take off a mark of my ownership, doll?” You opened your mouth to apologize, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about whom you belong to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. “I am yours,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. “Then you should have known better, my stupid bird.”

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and that group of women dies.” They were going to die either way but you didn't know that.

You gasp, “Snow- '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “It’s Coryo for you, dove,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

“Only warning, pet,” he whispered, his finger now playing with the clit even more relentlessly. Back and forth, up and down with no mercy, making the bud swollen and your pussy clench around nothing. “Yes, Coryo,” you gasp.

“My dumb pet can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Coryo,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, doll.”

He slipped his fingers one by one into your slit, the stretch making you gasp. “It's too much,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky. “You can take it,” he tuts. His fingers begin to message your wall, hitting every crook and canny you never knew existed. He twisted his fingers thrusting right at your g-spot making you moan loudly, your body was now completely bent over in front of the mirror and your hands gripped the counter for life. Snow continues to playfully stretch you out, scissoring your pussy with his long fingers.

When he finally deemed you loose enough, he pulled his fingers out without a warning making you whimper. He pulls down your panties around your knees, and then his hand unzipped his pant to take his cock out. Something in you liked how he was composed and fully clothed while having you like this, primal and debauched. It showcased Coriolanus perfectly, no matter how prim and proper the man was outside in the end he was as much of a mess.

His impatient was clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling upwards your body to grip your breast like a handle as his free hand guides his leaking, hard cock into your entrance. “I was going to fuck you good tonight, on a bed properly like a wife deserves,” he begins to say as he pushed in with a single stroke. Your mouth lets out a small scream as your pussy adjusts to his dick. “Instead I have to treat you like a whore, bending your ass over a counter and fuck you while there are people all over the mansion.” He shakes his head disappointed, he meets your gaze, “I expected better, doll.”

“Then why keep a disappointment around,” you snapped at him, making him raise his eyebrows at your tone, his cock twitching inside your walls. “I wonder that myself too,” he grunts, his face buried in your shoulder, his tongue licking your salty skin. “You’re my everything,” he whispered, “Don't you forget that, dove.”

It was a confession that made you turn your back and made you catch his lips. He groans into your mouth as both of your tongues play with each other, expressing words the others cannot say. His free hand went to grip your necklace chain, making you gasp as he fisted the chain and pulled at it, knocking at your breath in one go.

His hips had begun to pound into you, short, hard thrusts that made his cockhead press against your g-spot while his remaining length messaged your walls perfectly. “You don't have to think, doll. I am here to think for you. You don't have to think about deserving me, or Panem. You don't have to think at all, just be my bird. My bird only,” he grunts.

Your eyes had begun to see spots from the lack of air, he hadn't seemed to care as your pussy keeps squeezing around him because of it. He lets go of the chain, making you gasp and you take the air you desperately need as his thrusts begin to get sloppier. Coryo was too impatient, too worked up, too mad at you to care about your pleasure. You were a pet getting used and you loved every second of it.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and he groaned in response, as his thrusts got slower. He was edging himself to last longer, for this not to end. He bites your nape, not hard as he does usually to make sure the mark fades in a few seconds. His hips continue to rock into you, both of his hands now kneading at your clothed breast. He makes your round flesh spill from the bra and cups them with a groan escaping his lips.

“You’re mine,” he said as he pressed wet kisses all over your neck and shoulders, “Mine.” Your pussy clenched around him, making his pace get even slower, frustration begins to claw your mind as your body tethers to the edge. “Yours,” you agreed. “Fuck me faster,” you plead.

He lets out a laugh, “No. You'll take what I'll give.” “Coryo, my love please!” You begged. His hips stutter, making you feel confused, before realizing why he had stopped. You hadn't called him that since that night and you realized you had leverage on the man.

“My love, please! Fuck me harder,” you spill, “Baby, please!” He clenched his jaw trying so hard not to give in to the instinct of rutting into you like an animal. Knowing that he was near the edge, you continue, “Cum in me and make me walk around the gala with your cum inside, please. Please, mark me!”

That did the trick rather perfectly. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking you but staying there as a comforting presence that shouldn't have been comforting at all. “My dumb pet has ways with words. Gotta fuck that out of you, my dove,” he smirked.

His hips begin to roll into you again, making you gasp and squeeze his dick with your slick walls. The start of it was slow and cautious before Coriolanus decided to throw it all in the wind. He takes half of his length out before slamming it back to you. The sound of hips snapping echoed into the air along with his grunts and your moans. He kept fucking into you, with no care about anything.

Both of your sights were obscene in the mirror and it turned you not to end. Your body had begun to heat, your pussy aching to cum after being played with for so long. The tension in your body was close to snapping, and he knew it too. Knew it the way your cunt kept sucking his cock in so well. His head was on your shoulder, his mouth breathing out hot air onto your skin.

“Look at me,” you whispered, and his eyes snap at you and not even a second later he spills into your cunt, fucking his cum into you as he lets out a whine for the first time. You gasp, feeling your build-up fading without snapping but Snow was never to disappoint. He pulled his cock out, just to stuff you with his fingers. You whimper, your sensitive walls twitching around his fingers, so close to breaking.

Coriolanus doesn't waste a second to thrust into your sopping cunt, your folds covered in his cum, and fucking that into you with his fingers. He crooks his fingers perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making you black out for a second as his fingers keep assaulting your insides without a care.

You gasp, your body starting to give up. Snow has to wrap an arm around you to help you stay balanced. “That's it, doll. Cum on my fingers. I will make you cum on my cock later,” he promised to you. You cry out as his fingers continue their fast pace of thrusting. And finally, finally, your orgasm builds up again. A single graze from his fingertip onto your spongy spot has you not only cumming but squirting too.

Even Coriolanus eyes widen in surprise as you spill your juices onto the floor, ruining your dress and everything. You begin to feel ashamed of losing control in such a manner, but Coryo curses, “Fuck, doll. Fuck, that was…” He couldn't even finish the sentence.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself close to losing balance, only for Snow to swipe your legs from the floor and carry you to the bathtub.

“I’ll take care of you, doll,” he said, “I’ll bring in a new set of clothes, wait.” “What about the gala?” You asked. He kissed your temple before he replied, “I told everyone to leave the moment you walked away. Told everyone you were sick and as your husband, I shall be taking care of you.”

You let out a raspy chuckle, it was rather amazing how Coriolanus Snow always turned everything in his favor. Even this would help his image of being a president who took such good care of his wife and would surely take the country to great lengths.

“Snow lands on top,” you whispered to him with a smile.

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