#with a range of wardrobe pieces

[jessieren]

A rather late in the day Endeavour wardrobe team appreciation post for Gilet Slay Saturday.

No gilets but the wardrobe team did give us…

1. The smug motherfucker suit

2. The rolled up sleeved blue punting shirt

3. The boiler suit of lust

4. The too snug navy shirt of smugness

5. The check blue coat of confection

6. All of the Tuxes….

7. Emo Morse…

8. And of course the S9 glow-up. The long navy coat, the navy suit… I mean just season 9 really

[dollblog4me]

obvi not my image but its themm :) we watched this show together as kids and we'd always pick one character to be us, i picked this one out of the twins and she was the other.

[santaeofficial]

Greetings From Santae, Our Kickstarter Is LIVE NOW! Our Kickstarter Campaign will run August 30th - September 30th! With the overwhelming support from our community we were fully funded in 28 minutes! Let's hit these stretch goals and bring so many amazing features to Santae Much Sooner than planned!

Exciting things are underway in the magical world of Santae, and there’s no better time to begin – or continue – your adventure with us.

We’re thrilled to announce that the official Santae Kickstarter campaign launched August 30! Backing the project will grant you exclusive access to the site during our Beta launch, in addition to an incredible variety of rewards.

Tier Rewards range from beautiful Animated Wardrobe items for your avatar, to the companionship of the Kyree, Phasmic, and Seamso pets, and much more. You can even unlock the opportunity to collaborate with our art and design teams to design your very own site content: A Minimal, hairstyle, on-site item or clothing set, NPC, or even pet species!

Visit the Official Santae Kickstarter Today!

Visit this page for a sneak peek of all available Kickstarter tiers and rewards!

The Road So Far…

The beginning of Santae’s Alpha test on May 12th, was the start of an incredible journey. In the weeks since then, we’ve enriched the game with dozens of regular updates and exciting new features.

Here is just a taste of what we’ve added to enhance your experience on Santae:

New pet species

On Santae, mystical pets are your adventuring companions. There are plenty to choose from, and many more species on the way! Over the course of Alpha, we released 5 brand new pet species for Santarians to befriend. We’ve also increased the amount of pet friends you can add to your adventure party to 10 when you start!

The adorable moth-like Nochturn is ready to join any Santarian’s adventuring party as soon as they join the site. Brave adventurers who journey to the Lava Caves of the Flamefall Cascades can find the draconic Harlowin and fearsome Grusim. The elegant Drava can be found at traveling merchant Vespera’s exclusive shop. And finally, the friendly Quibbit evolves from its tadpole-like Minimal form.

Which pet species will become your faithful adventuring companion?

New Pet Colors

No matter your style, you can customize your pet companions on Santae with the help of magical shimmer dust!

We announced FOUR exciting new pet colors over the course of Alpha, with more to come in Beta and beyond. Will your pet let its true colors shine with the beautiful Prismatic shimmer dust? Will it become an adorable Pipsqueak? Will they show class and elegance with a RegalShimmer Dust? Or will you give your pet a taste of retro digital style with the brand-new Synthwave color?

New Minimals

In the world of Santae, your pets can adopt enchanting companions of their own called Minimals! Choose from dozens of types to find your pet’s perfect match.

Santae’s Alpha phase has brought many new exciting types of Minimals to join the herd. Which will your pet adopt?

Exciting New Site Features

The world of Santae is rich with opportunities to explore, gather, and discover. During the site’s Alpha phase, we’ve unlocked engaging on-site mini-games that bring you and your pets all across the vibrant world of Santae.

Send your pets Gathering at locations across Santae and they will bring back exciting items to share with you! Your pet might bring you a magical rune from the mysterious Stormforge Caverns, gather useful plants from the Ancient Grove, or maybe even discover an egg that can hatch into another pet at the volcanic pools of Ember Springs. You can also direct your pet to pluck rare berries from the Great Berry Tree!

When your pets go Fishing at the sunny Solar Sands – or in any gathering location across Santae – there’s no telling what they might find at the other end of the line. You might reel in a delicious fish, an eel that can join your pet as its Minimal companion, a piece of useful equipment that only needs a small repair, and so much more. More discoveries in the depths of the waters around Santae are sure to come.

If you want to tame wild Minimals, go visit Silvershade’s Ranch in the Lani Archipelago! They will send you out into the wild to catch and tame a Minimal through an interactive Herding mini-game. Bring berries, toys, and plushies to tempt and distract the Minimal as you and your pet cooperate to befriend it.

A Dynamic World

Santae’s sunny days and mysterious nights each hold their own mysteries to explore, watch as the clouds move while you play, and every hour on the hour you can watch the transition to day/night. As the world cycles between states every hour, you and your pets have the chance to make exciting new discoveries!

Visiting the Lava Caves in the dark of night will bring you face to face with the opportunity to tame a fearsome Grusim – but during the light of day, the Grusim retreats. While the sun shines over the Lava Caves, you can instead bring your Harlowin egg there to hatch into a new companion.

Exciting Events

The most important ingredient in the world of Santae is you: The community!

Over the course of THREE exciting events, our Alpha Testers have been able to participate in and shape the future of the game’s world. Together, we’ve discovered new Minimals, locations, and even new pet species.

The Goopper Swarm

Mysterious slug-like Minimals swarmed Gathering locations all across Santae, prompting adventurers everywhere to collect them in an attempt to learn more.

By collecting the Gooppers and discovering their source, Santarians discovered a brand-new location: The Goopper Grotto. This tranquil forest clearing holds an amazing secret: When you bring a Goopper there alongside certain powerfully magical items, the Minimal will transform!

The Mourning Grusim

By following the traces of an ancient legend, adventurers learned of a mythical creature lurking deep within the Lava Caves.

Together, Santarians discovered sanDust: A secondary currency earned through site activities. This magical dust proved to be the secret to calming the ferocious ancient beast within the caves. By working together to collect sanDust, the community unlocked the ability to tame and adopt the Grusim for everyone!

The Quibbit Cove

When Santarians began to discover mysterious eggs around the site, they banded together to collect them and learn more about them. Together, we learned how to hatch Quibbspawn eggs into a brand-new Minimal: The Quibblet!

But the Quibblet was no ordinary Minimal. More ancient clues pointed the community towards a newly-discovered location, Quibbit Cove. It was there that the true secret of the Quibblet was revealed: Feeding it in the cove causes it to evolve into a fully-fledged pet, the Quibbit!

Thanks to the community’s efforts of research and discovery, the location of Quibbit Cove and the secret of Quibblet evolution are now unlocked for everyone.

Thank You For Being A Part of the Magic of Santae!

Whether you’re an experienced Alpha Tester or a brand-new applicant to the game, we’re so happy to have you as a part of the community we’re building together.

Alpha has brought so many exciting updates – but we’re even more excited for what will come next as we continue to work together to make Santae the most magical site it can be.

Make sure to sign up for notifications about the official Santae Kickstarter so you don’t miss the start of our next big adventure as a community!

With Love and Gratitude,

~The Santae Team

[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.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy

[hellotailor]

louis' final three costumes in S2 are so, so cleverly chosen. after the curated blandness of his interview wardrobe in dubai, this is our first glimpse of his personal taste in the present day. each outfit is full of meaning.

in the first half of S2, louis and armand’s coordinated interview outfits seemed like part of their performance as a happy couple. by the end, they have a more sinister subtext. louis has gone from having stylish, flashy fashion sense to wearing uniformly expressionless black and grey:

dubai-era louis exclusively wears the colors of depression and mourning, in a style stripped of personal expression, physically and spiritually separated from the outside world. i’ll write a separate post about armand’s costumes later, but you could interpret this as louis' taste being subsumed by armand’s nebulous 500-year-old absence of identity. at the very least, louis is blending into the chic minimalism of the apartment, presenting himself as part of the household unit.

with that in mind, his final three outfits signal a seismic change after leaving armand. his NOLA tour costume reflects the philosophy behind his 1940s wardrobe (ie. selected to blend into a human crowd) but he's also reconnecting with his home, wearing a New Orleans Saints hat with (in a potential piece of double symbolism!) a fleur-de-lis logo.

then we have the loustat reunion outfit, which is more enigmatic. he’s going for subdued colors (although not pure black and grey), with a silhouette echoing his mid-20th century wardrobe: high-waisted, wide-legged trousers and a bomber jacket - a cut he wears pretty often. IMO the reunion’s overall color palette is a major factor here, with lestat and louis' costumes and surroundings sharing a spectrum of dark brown, sepia and muted gold.

finally there's the last scene in dubai, arguably the most “pure” expression of louis' taste because he’s not wearing this outfit for an audience. coordinating with the apartment’s colorful makeover, he’s wearing a multicolored cardigan with yellow highlights, matching claudia’s dress, the yellow couches, and the gold background of his new painting. (i’ve identified this as a YMC cardigan retailing at £250; a mid-range english brand.)

this piece (paired with navy blue pants with a yellow stripe) is modern and distinctive; basically the opposite of his interview costumes, which displayed very little in the way of personality or cultural markers. you immediately understand that louis is expressing himself through fashion again, now in a more casual streetwear context than the tailored and accessorized suits of his youth.

[inlovewithregencyera]

My Fair Lady: Hungarian Noble Lady Set

Hi, lovelies it's been a while since I've posted cc, but nonetheless, I'm back and here I have a baroque/rococo-themed Hungarian Noble set for y'all.

The items in this set are textures taken from the wardrobes of Hungarian noblewomen. This one is from Countess Orsolya Esterhazy of Galantha. I'm sure some of you have seen some of her dresses before

The Esterhazy family was extremely rich and affluent, and one of their castles in Hungary was known as the 'Hungarian Versailles'. This style of dress (1650-1750) as seen above took heavy influence from Spanish culture, and Hungarian noblewomen were glad to wear this style of dress every day, not only for special court functions, but to show their status. Headdresses were symbols of family status, women wore decorated bonnets to cover their hair, and young, unmarried girls wore partas (which I have the meshes for but couldn't get to work properly).

Another texture is from the Hungarian Transylvanian era and is believed to be from the dress of Catherine of Brandenburg, who was elected Princess due to her marriage to Gabriel Bethlen.

Another dress texture is believed to have belonged to Baroness Dersffy Orsolya from around 1610.

Other textures included are from a 1750s Hungarian Court Gown, one worn by Countess Stephanie Majlath in 1867, a Gold and Green ladies' robe from the 1900s, and a pale green ladies' robe from the 1900s. I have pasted all of these though to a baroque/rococo style mesh as their textures suit them anyway.

I used mesh pieces from @acanthus-sims and @buzzardly28 for the dresses, courtesy of maya40 for her beautiful textures and for being so kind to provide me with information and history on her country.

In this set, you are getting 7 dresses (each ranging from about 13k-15k in polygons, sorry), 1 bonnet mesh from cynnix which was retextured by maya40 to match these dresses (multiple swatches), a 1660s bonnet with 3 swatches from maya40, 2 Hungarian veils retextured by maya40, mesh originally by cynnix, 1 baroque lace collar with 3 swatches found in glasses category (mesh by maya40, textures by me), and 1 Hungarian laced bonnet by maya40 with 3 swatches. All of this is BGC, and when downloading please read my TOU.

That was a lot so I'll add more pictures for visuals

Pictures of real Hungarian noblewomen from around this time:

As always, let me know if you have any issues! @mmfinds

DOWNLOAD

[hyuny-bunny]

groupie love | Y.J. ft hyun

genre: established relationship, rockstar bf x groupie gf, smut, a touch of fluff, a sprinkle of angst

part II

MNDI (+18) CW: oral, unprotected p in v, afab reader, use of she/her/hers/girlfriend, pet names, degradation (slut, whore) , depraved possessive & slightly mean innie, hyunjin is a flirt, vouyerism, riding, squirting, fingering, oral (m receiving), mouth fucking w fingers.

a/n: if i miss any warnings let me know! also would love to turn this into a series. this was also one of the songs that got me through writing this, the other song was own my mind another recommended listen.

summary: your bf innie always had girls throwing themselves at him, just wanting a chance to say they slept with a rockstar.

He was strikingly beautiful, both on and off-stage. It couldn't be helped that every where you went people gawked. The stares were never just towards him though but you always had a hard time believing it. You two made a power couple, something ripped straight out of a book. People would look at you two like you were a dream couple you only ever saw photos of on pinterest.

He was tall, handsome, had a cold look but only had warm eyes for you. Most would assume you were just some silly side piece, but he'd fly off the handle if anyone ever so much as implied you were anything less then his muse, his love. How could anyone believe he was so committed and dedicated to you when girls threw themselves at him every night after his shows? All of them wanting a chance to check off the "i-slept-with-a-rockstar" box.

You were a goddess. Everything you touched turned to gold, including him. You were there on the side stage or balcony every show, wearing whatever trendy vintage clothes you'd find the weekends before. A rockstar girlfriend has to have a brand to live up to right? Your wardrobe littered with sparkle, lace, leather, and animal prints. Tonight was no different, knee high boots with a lace slip dress paired with his leather jacket.

The same leather jacket that's just a few nights before, a girl tried to sneak off his chair to wear while you disappeared for a moment. Shooting a glare that would make you sink back into your own skin.

His band hadn't been together for very long but they gained a lot of attention in a short span. Jisung, their lead singer, had an insane vocal range and writing ability like no other. Their drummer, Chan, was a wet dream to watch. Let's just say he was great with his hands. Their bass player really sold it though, Hyunjin, had a dark mystique to him. One couldn't quite put their finger on his energy, he was both serious and nonchallant about his talent, on top of being so strikingly beautiful. Then there was your boyfriend, lead guitarist, recognized for his sharp eyes and sharper guitar skills.

The show closed out and you made your way towards the green room, keeping a watchful on the girls lingering around the stage. Once you nodded towards their manager Minho, you slid back to find a sweaty bunch. Jeongin's head was thrown back against the couch, eyes shut, chest heaving and adam's apple bobbing. You couldn't help but notice how chiseled his muscles looked in this tank top or how his rings made his hands look extra big and the veins in his arms stood out even more-

"Stop eye fucking him and just fuck him," Hyunjin was leaned over your shoulder whispering in your ear. Jeongin still sat breathing with his eyes shut "I'm sure one of those groupie sluts out there is more then wet and willing, if you're not."

"Over my dead fucking body" You said so condescendingly sweet with a smile looking Hyunjin in the eyes.

You walked over to him, sliding the jacket off and next to him. The thud of the jacket had him turning his head and ever so slightly opening his eyes to find the source. He was happy to see you sat so perched next to him with a grin on your face, a pretty berry tint to your lips.

"Hi, enjoy the show?" He sighed lifting his head to look you fully up and down.

"Hi. Of course I did, you were amazing as always." You caressed his face while he leaned forward to kiss your lips. Holding your head in hand and the other laid on top of your thigh ever so slight rubbing the skin just underneath the hem of the dress. Another peck before he leans back to stare at you in all your beauty.

"Drink?" You ask pushing back a few hairs from his face. He hums at your touch and question.

"The usual, please." He grabs your hand kissing the palm with the end of his sentence. "I'll shower up right now while you get the drinks, i'll be quick kay?" He kisses you once more before jumping off the couch to stroll towards the bathroom that Jisung is walking out of.

"No groupie for you, Sung?" You ask while he try's to pack his bag up for the tour bus. He was shy for a lead singer. He wasn't one for one night stands unless he felt a real connection.

"Not tonight, I prefer my own company. I have another song Chan & Jeongin wanted me to go over tonight, need a clear head to do that so I'm calling it in after my drink." He was so passionate about his songs, a bit of a perfectionist.

"Someone say drinks?" Hyunjin is standing in the middle of green room now in just jeans with no shirt and a towel drying his long dark hair. He's got roses adoring the side of his body leading from his back trailing to the front his lower body near the v line.

"When did you get those?" You ask genuinely curious as you'd never seen those before. He's got a cock grin on his face. He strolls over to you standing right in front of, his crotch almost in your face. You lean back to put some distance.

"Last month. My friend, Felix, works at a tattoo parlor. I sketched it out myself, all he had to do was put the ink to skin," He lifts his arm twisting the way it travels across his body. "Wanna see where it leads to?"

He grabs your hand letting it trail from the top of his ribs moving it down to the top of his waistband, you pull your hand back, snapping out of your daze. He really was something carved by gods.

"That'll do." You clear your throat "Thanks for the tour though, let's get those drinks Ji." You stand up brushing up against Hyunjin. That cocky grin still plastered on his face.

"Will you ever give me a chance?"

"Keep dreaming."

Jisung and you order drinks at the bar, the same groupies are lingering. They get jumpy and try to rush up to Ji once you reach the bar. Minho is already blocking their chance to step between you both. You mouth a thanks to him while Ji starts talking about the next show. Hyunjin comes out of the back room emerging with a tank top now. The groupies once again flock to him seeing he's alone, all barking to trying to buy his drink.

As you're about to turn to walk back to the green room with drinks hand there's a set of arms caging you at the bar. It's not Jeongin though.

"So you cope a feel of my tattoos, run off to the bar and leave me to hyenas?" Hyun talks into your ear.

While this type of behavior would be crossing a line for most, Hyunjin, had always been like this. Even before you got with Jeongin. He had a big crush on you before and you've never given him a reason to move on, even with a boyfriend who'd probably break his hand at a given chance. He has confessed his love to you on several occasions both drunk and sober. It doesn't bother Jeongin too much, it did more in the beginning but he's come to understand, Hyunjin will always be head over heels for you. You were Hyunjin's besfriend first, it's how you two met, you were always there at his band practices. Whether it was bringing lunch, offering feedback, or passing out flyers with them for upcoming shows. Hyunjin would gush over you but never made a move, at least one that actually indicated he was genuinely interested and not being a cock fuck. He was always back and forth with people who just wanted to use him. It wasn't until Jeongin had swooped in one day, he realized it was too late for him. So he'd continue with his usual flirty banter, waiting for another chance.

"Those so called hyenas are your people, Hyun. They're just looking for a cute fuck." You beam at him with a coy smile. You slide under his arm, grabbing the drinks to head back to the green room. He made your head spin sometimes, his flirty advances always made you feel flattered but you only had eyes for Innie. When you see the entrance that leads to the green room, Innie is standing there watching you. It seems as though he's just watched everything play out, his normally soft eyes for you are narrowed on Hyunjin's silhouette.

Hyunjin must've felt the daggers the younger was throwing his way because he turned around slightly shocked to see mean demeanor that paints his face and posture. There's a girl trying her earnest best to get Jeongin to look at her but he's focused on the way you walk up to him with your drinks in hand. He smirks at the way the other three girls watch you cheerily walk up to him, he loves the way they turn green with envy. They want to be you but they will never be you or ever come close to you. He takes the drink you extend to him and wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you to him.

"Sorry not interested." He mutters to the girl who still hadn't picked up the hint.

He walks you back to green room, you situate yourself on the couch watching him checking the hallways before closing the door. You take a few big swigs, slightly scrunching your nose at the cheap liquor used in your drink. It's only to brings your buzz sooner. Jeongin stands beside you where you sit on the couch, he throws back the whole drink. He pets the top your head with one hand while he consumes the entire drink, setting the cup down he sits next to you.

He smells heavenly, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lull you into a sweet daze. He's wearing another tank top with a loose pair of black straight leg sweats. His rings still on, accenting his pretty long fingers. He holds your hand in one hand and caresses you face with the other, his eyes scanning all over your face searching for something.

"I hate the way he paws at you." Jeongin's eyes darken with the way you look at him.

"You know I'm all yours baby," you say softly bringing his hand to your lips to kiss the finger tips.

"Hmmm... I don't know how much i believe that... Maybe you're just another groupie slut for us... for me... and he just wants a taste now..." He says this while grabbing a fist full of hair at the back of your head, using his other hand to rub up and down your thigh just under your dress. His words send shivers down your spine and makes you grow wetter with every touch.

"No I'm not like those girls out there. I'm only yours baby." You gasp at while he tightens his grip in your hair. "I'll show you, please. Innie, please you know I'm only yours."

"Show me" He's pulling you against him, his mouth latching on to yours. He's pulling you straddle his lap, gripping your hips while his mouth explores your own. He's pulling your dress up all the way to have your panties flush against his hardening cock. You can feel how hard he is and the way your panties drip you wouldn't be surprised to find a wet mark in place of where you are now.

He's slipping his hand under the waist band of your panties over your thighs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, lost in the feeling of his fervent kisses. He pulls back to you pull you off for a moment.

He's standing in front of you now undoing the drawstring of his pants. He pulls the sweats down just enough to free his cock, letting it slap against his stomach. A pumps a few strokes while you adjust to situate yourself on the edge of the couch to take him in your mouth. His fingers web in your hair as your eager mouth opens wide for him, he taps the tip just to your lips before letting you start your ministrations on him. Your hand gripping his thighs for stability, he gives only a moment to adjust to his cock in your mouth before he's moving your head for you. You gag on him as he shoves his way down your throat, your nose almost touching his abs. He pulls out the way to let breathe before stick himself back in, he's letting filthy moans out, sloppy wet gagging moans from you and your nails digging into thighs.

He pulls off your mouth just before he's about to cum, enjoying the sight of your eyeliner and mascara running on your cheeks. He taps your cheek with his hand, gesturing you to open. He's shoving fingers in your mouth without warning, be gives you a break this time, allowing you to coat in your own spit at your own pace.

"So pretty suck me off.. such a good girl suck my fingers, should let Hyunjin see what a whore you are for me." His words have you clenching your thighs together yearning for some friction.

"You want him to see you like this huh? Want him to see what a cock hungry slut you are for me? Or maybe you want his cock too?" He coo's at you while thrusting his fingers on your tongue.

He pulls his fingers out lifting your dress to shove his hands into your panties.

"So wet baby and i've barely touched you. Is this all for me? Hmm? Or is this for him too?" He's circling your clit with the fingers covered in your spit. "Such a needy slut. Gotta show you who this pussy belongs to."

He pulls the strap of your dress down with your bra latching a mouth to your tit as his fingers thrust into you. You yelp out at the pleasure and shock. He's brushing against the g spot and attacking your neck in small bites. The building orgasm is about to tip you over.

"Jeongin please... please fuck me please need your cock in me..." You whimper out and let out another whine when removes mouth and fingers. He pulls your boots off for you while you pull your dress over your head. Discarding the rest of your clothing till your down to nothing. He pulls you up off the couch sitting back down first and patting his lap.

"Ride me then. Show me how badly you need me." Without hesitation, your lifting your self onto his lap, lining his cock with your entrance. Once you're fully sat on him you both let out a moan. He lands a slap on your ass, a hard one, signaling to move. You lift off your thighs begin to rock your self against him, his hands are covering each cheek helping you with your movement but not with out a smack every second or so. It's not long before you're shaking with pleasure. You're begging him to help you.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just hold onto me." He lifts your hips for you and starts thrusting up into you. You yell again at the angle he hits that spongey spot inside you. Your lost in the euphoria of his thrusts, head spinning with every groan he lets out, how tightly your cunt sucks him in, and the sound of skin bouncing off the walls of the room. You almost don't notice that Hyunjin is standing in the door way, with hand cupping his crotch. His eyes are moving all across your body, taking in the scenery, every bounce, every whimper, the nail marks that cover Jeongin's shoulders from the way you clung to him.

Hyunjin's eyes don't have a chance to meet yours as your head slumps into the crock of Jeongin's neck. Innie picks up speed on his thrusts pulling you impossibly close to his chest, lifting you up just enough to hammer his cock into you. Your moans turn to cry's and screams, finally releasing all over Jeongin's lap. He's never felt more proud to make you squirt especially with Hyunjin as your witness.

You feel his cum dripping out of you, too tired to care from the orgasm. Jeongin is pushing the hair out of your face, leaving a sweet kiss on your temple whispering sweet nothings of 'good girl' 'so good for me baby'. Hyunjin ever so slight snakes out of the room into the hallway breathing heavily, processing what he just saw and how stiff his pants feel. Jeongin is quick to lift you with him to the shower for a quick rinse knowing he'll be running a nice hot bath for once you get back to the hotel.

[soie-lux]

2023 Will Be

Less time online: being present in the moment, not letting online/social media trends influence me in any way. Making the most of each day. Spending more time in nature, admiring the beauty of creation. More time spent on my hobbies, bettering myself, growing into the woman I want to be. Quality time with friends and family

Taking care of my body: pilates throughout the week and walking 4 miles (around 10k steps) as many days as possible. Establishing a healthy sleep schedule. Consuming local, seasonal, and organic produce, grass-fed and free-range animal products, fresh sourdough. Making homemade meals as much as possible.

Stepping out of my comfort zone: not letting fear of the unknown stop me from living an amazing life. Saying yes to new opportunities and trying new things. Exploring parts of the city I've never been to before. Not being scared to travel solo. Making conversation with strangers. Developing new hobbies such as horse riding and painting. Seeing what this beautiful earth has to offer.

Nourishing my soul: starting my day with prayer and gratitude. Walking in obedience to the Lord and putting His will above mine. Spending time in His word daily. Being intentional with my thoughts, words, and actions. Allowing the fruit of the Spirit to influence all things I think, say, and do.

Seeking quality over quantity: getting rid of all the fast-fashion pieces in my closet and slowly but surely replacing them with 100% silk, wool, cotton, linen, and cashmere pieces. Continuing to build my capsule wardrobe. Only investing in luxury pieces when I'm sure they will remain in my closet for years to come. This also applies to my relationships. Contrary to popular belief, we need relationship and community to survive. As long as I'm surrounded with people I love, trust, and care for, that's more than I could ask for. It's the quality, not quantity of close relationship that matters.

[slowbison]

Bottom! Leon S. Kennedy x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Leon had been caught off guard and got hurt in the process. Running out of supplies, you come across the merchant who offers a questionable solution which you take, in an effort to help Leon. Later on, he notices something rather wet staining his shirt. Coming from his nipples.

words: 2.3k

warnings: male lactation, praising, frottage, hand jobs

Heavy footsteps echoed behind you as you frantically scanned the area for any temporary shelter. Your eyes landed on a dilapidated home in the near distance that looked good enough to barricade. Determination set across your face, you adjusted your hold on the blonde man next to your waist and rushed forwards, until a familiar gravely voice rang out to you.

“Hey there stranger, got a couple of goodies in stock. C’mere and take a look” the shadowy man called, signaling over to his makeshift booth.

“Now’s not the time, I’ll come back later if I can. There’s a whole swarm behind me, I suggest that you leave.” You warned, sounds of angry grumbling and footsteps slowly approaching. The man laughed and opened up his trench coat, revealing a series of ammo, guns, bombs, and a mysterious red liquid vial.

“C’mon now, how do ya expect to protect the lad on yer shoulder if ya ain’t got the gear or the fixing’s?” The merchant asked, eyeing the unconscious blonde man whose breathing turned ragged, quiet groans slipping out. Your mind started racing as you recalled your dwindling supply of herbs and the last few shots that were left in your gun, firing so many at the villagers behind that just seemed never ending.

The merchant sensing your conflict chirped up “Since you’ve been a rather generous paying customer, I’ll give this to yer for free,” grabbing the small red vial from his pocket into the air for you to take. You eyed it suspiciously as he had never had this in stock during your sudden run-ins with each other and asked for a description.

“It’s an experimental drug of mine that I’ve been whiffing up, guaranteed to heal major wounds. It ain’t gonna kill ya if that’s whatcha worried about, heheh.” You eyed it some more before, a loud whine came from your side. As the man began jerking in pain, holding onto his side with a piece of cloth, a slight hint of blood shining. Earlier, he had made the mistake of letting his guard down at an old villager that jabbed a pitchfork at him, you axed the grandma in the head for that. Pocketing the vial, you threw out a handful of Pesetas, pointing at some ammo and few grenades since no herbs were available.

The merchant happily gave them out to you, scooping up the money before nodding at you. “Pleasure doing business stranger, wish yer all the best.” Disappearing into the woods soon after, forging for supplies to sell at the next encounter. You readjust your hold and resumed a fast pace to the for-mentioned home.

Reaching at the entrance, you swung it open and scanned around the room. It was a bit shabby, but so were all the homes in this insane village. The floors were slightly cracked along with walls, there were a few pieces of furniture that still seemed functional and a decent looking bed sat in the corner. Dropping him off at the bed, you went to the side of the door and grabbed the wardrobe, pushing it in-front of the door. You closed the window next to the bed using a piece of wood on the floor, hammering it shut with some nails. Though you were tempted to light the furnace for some heat, it would draw unwanted attention which was the last thing you wanted right now.

Soft groaning could be heard from the bed at your side as you put down the hammer on a dresser, rushing to the man’s side. Leon’s face was scrunched up in pain from the stab wound, still slowly leaking blood. You lifted his head into your arms, gently shushing him and dug your hands into your pocket for the vial. “Hey, it’s alright Leon, I’ve got you okay? Just hang on for me love.” You bit at the cork sealing the vial - spitting it in some corner and brought it to Leon’s mouth. “Open up darling, this will help the pain… I hope” You whispered, tilting it up as the liquid creeped into his mouth.

The taste wasn’t ideal, but it held a soft cherry taste with a bit of a burn which led to a heaved cough. “You did good Leon, always good for me” You praised, caressing the side of his face watching as his complexion became better thanks to the drug, noting to give a nice tip for the merchant later.

You moved to the wall facing the bed and rearranged your positions with his chest in your lap, head cradled in your arms. You stilled, hearing the sounds of multiple footsteps outside the boarded window, torch light creeping at the corners. The villagers growled and lingered around the house before taking off at the sound of a distant noise, yelling along the way.

Letting out a relaxed breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, glanced down at the man in your arms and ran your hand in his hair. “I won’t let them near you, so take a nice nap for me.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head. Leon cuddled closer to you, breathing finally stabilized and the wound seemingly disappeared. You smiled and drummed your fingers on his chest, keeping watch over the sleeping man.

Sometime later, Leon groggily woke up with a slight hint of red dusting his cheeks. “Ugh, I feel like I was stabbed by something.” He grumbled, rubbing his hand on his head. You chuckled, lifting his head up to peck his lips, “That’s cause you were, got a free drug thing from the merchant while we were coming here.”

Leon gave you an incredulous look.

“You gave me some random drug from the merchant? Much less free?”

You nervously smiled, playing with a curl in his hair, “He said it wouldn’t kill you, plus there isn’t enough herbs that could’ve helped.” Leon raised his head slightly, squinting at your face as you continued, “On the bright side it worked didn’t it?”

He sighed, falling back to your arms and closed his eyes. “Is there also a reason why my chest is wet?” he muttered, turning to face you. A confused look crossed your face as you looked down at the wet spots donning his shirt around the nipples. “Well he did say it was experimental…” You muttered, lifting a hand to squeeze the pec. A low moan escaped from Leon, slapping a hand on his mouth before batting your hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He hissed, more liquid staining his shirt.

“Examining your chest, now if you would kindly cooperate with me agent” You said, tugging at the straps for him to help remove. Leon reluctantly sits up to straddle your thighs and removes the holster, tugging up at his shirt to reveal two puffy nipples that dripped with white substance and a much rounder chest than usual. Grinning at the embarrassed look he gave you. “The assessment won’t take long now, be good until then.”

Leon quietly grumbled as you moved closer to his chest, grabbing at his pec once again — giving it a good squeeze. Leon let out a choked moan at the action and unknowingly pressed his chest closer to your palm. The sounds he made as you gently massaged the right swollen pec went straight to your dick which made you even more curious…

You latched onto his left nipple and sucked, relishing at the savory taste that flowed in your mouth, letting out a pleased groan. Sensing slight relief from his chest, he whined and locked his fingers in your hair - pulling you closer before feeling your hard dick against his own.

“You- you’re enjoying this” He said, face flushed.

You released the puffy nipple with a soft pop, flicking your tongue to catch any remaining drops. Grinning up at him.

“We’ve gotta make the best out of this situation and I’m willing to take the fall” You said, licking your lips. “Besides, you seem to be enjoying this just as much as me.” Leon, embarrassed, looks away before straightening his back and jutting out his chest. “Then hurry up… don’t just stare, do something.” He refused to admit that he found you feeding from him rather hot and boner inducing, as the grip on your hair got tighter. The thought of you fucking him while suckling milk from his teats spurring him on, whimpering at the the idea.

“With pleasure, love.” You chuckled, leaning in to resume your suckling at the nub, flavor bursting in your mouth. Leon threw his head back moaning, rolling his hips against yours, cock straining painfully in his pants. You could feel your head getting fuzzy, switching to the right nipple when you couldn’t suckle anymore milk while returning the man’s eager grinding with your own rocking.

The taste was absolutely heavenly and you could definitely get addicted to the taste, perhaps already so as you pulled more into your mouth, cock leaking in your pants. Leon whines were a mixture of relief and want, begging for more friction.

“Please, I-I need more, fuck please touch me,” He begged, humping helplessly on your crotch.

You dug your hands into his pants blindly going as you refused to leave his chest, fumbling to unbuckle his belt. Slipping a hand passed his underwear, pulling it down to free his leaking cock, doing the same for your own matching prick. Bringing them together with one hand, you set a rather fast pace — using the pre cum as lube.

Leon sobbed at the feeling, squirming as he could feel himself nearing his orgasm. Your hold on hips got stronger, thrusting faster and more slippery as you neared yourself as well. There were a few drops of milk left that you savored, swirling your tongue around the bud hoping to ease more out, releasing the sensitive areola when you couldn’t pull anymore.

You settled for kissing and marking his chest, focusing on drawing out more noises from the blonde. Who whined, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “More, ah- I’m close.. mhpm, please keep going.” He cried, losing himself more in the pleasure. You moved from his chest to his neck, trailing up to his jaw before attacking his lips, devouring his moans.

He could taste himself in your mouth, finding it odd, but it didn’t stop him from fucking your hand more. You felt yourself nearing eruption and wrapped your hand tighter, moving to whisper into his ear, “My good boy, waiting for me. You can cum love.”

Leon let out a broken moan, spilling into your hand and onto his torso, cock twitching as he lightly humped your hand. You followed soon after, mixing your release with his — cum trailing down your hand. Chest heaving, Leon draped himself over you, head resting at your shoulder. You kissed his nape as you wiped the cum on the sheets, tucking yourself and him back in your pants.

Running circles on his back, waiting for his breathing to stabilize before speaking. “We have to keep moving, love. They’ll be back with possibly more.”

Leon sighed, nuzzling your neck before moving to stand, fixing his shirt and putting his holster back on. “Well let’s get moving then, the sooner the better I guess,” he grumbled.

You followed after him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck as a silent apology. He turned to kiss you properly before breaking and going to push the wardrobe blocking the door.

Carefully making your way outside, you traversed through the village and onto a beaten down log path in the woods. Coming up to the entrance of a desolate church, killing a few villagers as you made your way further in. In the distance there was a fickle purple flame that grew brighter as you got closer.

“‘Ello strangers, good to see ya.” The merchant greeted, eyeing the now conscious blonde. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, last I seen ya, you were as sick as a dog. Good to see the puppy back at full health heheh.”

“Very funny, now do you want to do some business or not?” Leon rolled his eyes and scanned the items the merchant had in stock, purchasing a few before walking over to stand at the church door.

You walked up buying a few before dropping in low voice, one where Leon couldn’t hear you. “So uh, about that experimental drug of yours… got anymore in the back,” throwing some extra pesetas on the table. Though you couldn’t see it, the merchant grinned, understanding the implication and opened a hidden pocket with the same red vial from before.

“Do hope it meets your desires, stranger.” He chuckled, slipping it into your hands as you stealthily tucked it in your pocket.

“Hey what’s the hold up?” Leon yelled, raising a brow at the both of you. The merchant let out a deep laugh before waving him away. You nodded at him before walking over to Leon, patting his shoulder.

“Let’s go in, wouldn’t want to miss out on any action” You purred, leaving a puzzled Leon who trudged behind you.

“What did you buy?”

“Oh nothing really, just a little treat was all.”

“Yeah that’s totally not something to be worried about at all.”

“Haha, don’t worry about it love, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

Leon blushed and bit his lip, guessing what it may be and definitely tried not to think about it again. You grinned watching the blonde in the corner of your eye, playing with the vial in your pocket. You couldn’t wait to give it to him.

a/n: hey y'all, finally dropped the leon fic (yippie). hope y'all enjoyed this one, kinda proud of this one honestly and gyaatt damn, have y'all have been sweet to me with all the praises for my last miguel o'hara fic. got some more on that cooking, i see your requests and it got me giggling and kickin feeties n' shit. working on those after this, got a structure down on that. also i'm in the process of making a masterlist for y'all to easily go through my stuff, i never thought i would write as much as i do, but it's been real fun. i will say that after like 4 more drops (requests included), i'm gonna take a short break. anyways that's all for now.

up next: miguel wears a collar with a bell and you fuck him???. whatttt. teehee.

[tacticaldiary]

It Was Never Meant To Hurt

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It’s been 4 days since she’s seen him last. Four days since they gave into each other and she woke up next to an empty bed. It hurts more than she cares to admit, to be used and discarded.

Masterlist

Four days.

Four days since she woke up to an empty bed, the wonderful memories of the night before, the touches and whispered promises against skin going sour the longer she stared at the empty spot next to her.

He’d taken his boots, the shirts he sometimes left in her army-issued wardrobe, and even the pillow smelled nothing like him anymore.

It was almost like he’d erased every trace of evidence that he might be in her life.

And it hurts like a bitch.

“Stay?” She’d whispered into the crook of his neck, shuddering breaths shared between the two of them as she lay there pliant and sweaty in his arms.

“If you insist, love.” He’d whispered, lips pressed to her temple, a deep, satisfied sound rumbling in his chest. It was the best she’d felt in so long, safe and guarded and blissful just laying there with the person she’s loved for over a year now.

They’d been together for a few months now, shared heated glances during meetings, lingering touches before missions, teasing remarks through the comms. It had been good, they had been good. She thought Simon had come to trust her more with the way he’d taken his mask off for her the first time he kissed her.

She’d tried to convince herself it was all in her head at first. That Ghost just wanted his clothes back. Keeping his boots in his own room was more convenient after all, and scents normally faded away, didn’t they?

It was easy to pretend at first, to go about her day like nothing was wrong, like there wasn’t a gaping hole in her chest expanding with every step she took, every dark corner she glances in hoping to see a glimpse of that mask of his.

She’d lost hope on the third day when she finally spotted Ghost in the hallway for the first time since that night...

And he’d walked right past her.

Not even a glance.

She remembers standing there for a moment, stunned at the blatant ignoring, the soft footsteps fading away indicating his departure.

So was she just...another notch in his bedpost?

Was he just playing with her to get her in his bed? It made sense. He’d gotten what he’d wanted and if that really was the case, there was no reason to talk to her and keep her around other than for their missions, was there?

She wants to laugh, or cry? Scream, maybe? Would that make it feel better, loosen the tightness in her chest at the indignation of being used and discarded like-like she was someone cheap?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forces her feet to keep moving to Price’s office. This feeling could stay lodged inside her, but it didn’t mean she could disregard her duties for it.

Still, hot, angry tears prick at her eyes, ones she refuses to let fall lest they show the world her inner turmoil, her embarrassment, and anger.

                                · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Four days.

Four days since Ghost last felt anything close to content.

Clenching his jaw, he focuses on the methodical movements of the pistol in his hand, checking the capacity, reloading and firing off a clip.

One, two, three.

Head, neck, heart.

Three lethal shots.

Three days since he last felt her touch.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers the weapon a fraction, trying to get his thoughts together. Ghost was a cold man, he knew how to push things aside and focus on the task at hand, but he never could seem to push her out of his mind.

Even now, in the middle of practicing in the base’s shooting range, every time there’s a moment void of the bang of a shot fired, his thoughts drift to her as if his mind needs her to fill the physical absence left behind.

“Fucks sake.” He mumbles under his breath, switching out the bullets.

He loves her too much.

The day Simon Riley loses her is the day he fears he’ll lose whatever’s left of him. The shattered, broken pieces of a man that she had somehow stitched together into something worth loving in his eyes.

All his broken pieces are jagged and sharp, nicking and cutting the fingers of anyone who tries to piece them back together.

Her hands are bloody with the effort.

It’s why he needs her to understand, needs to stay away from her because Ghost is not someone who is easy to love. Inevitably he’ll put her in harm’s way, taint her with his darkness to a point where even she may consider it unforgivable.

Avoiding is easier than giving it a chance.

Ghost calls it a tactical retreat.

The door opens, and he doesn’t hear it creak but it’s through pure instinct alone that Ghost spares a glance to it, catching wide eyes with his own.

His body hums with anticipation, with the itch to reach out and touch, grab, feel. She looks...tired, he registers. They’re still staring at each other, his gaze impassive, hers surprised and...was that a flash of anger and hurt? They stay exactly where they are.

She’s expecting him to say something, Ghost knows. Maybe to break the silence between them that’s been lasting the past half week, maybe to explain and clear the air.

He turns away from her silently, fires off a couple of shots at the nearest target.

It was for the best.

Ghost was a selfish man, but not selfish enough to cause someone he loves harm. Being with him was a liability, he’d realised that when she’d drifted off to sleep in his arms, an action so full of trust it made his cold heart twist. He has no doubt she can handle herself. She was part of the 141 after all, handpicked by Price.

But at the end of the day, she was still human. Not immortal.

So was he, if the painful ache in his heart was anything to go by.

He half expects her to leave, so he’d be mildly surprised and frustrated when she plants herself a few feet away from him, bringing up her own weapon. She fires.

Three shots.

Heart, heart, heart.

There’s nothing but the popping of bullets for the next few minutes, though Ghost never seems to look away from her for more than a couple of seconds. Her movements become more agitated, more jerky like she’s getting progressively more antsy.

It’s only when her gun clatters to the floor and she lets out a pained groan that he snaps his head towards her instinctually.  

Clutching onto her hand, she glares at the gun underneath. She’d touched the hot barrel, her fingertips an angry burning red.

“What?” She snaps, the frown on his face deepening when his eyes flicker to her face. “Finally got something to say?”

“You should get that to medbay.” Is all he says, turning back to his own weapon.

A beat of silence, then a huff of frustration, and suddenly she’s right in his face, standing so close if he breathed in deep enough their chests would brush. It jars him on the inside, being so close to her after so long but outwardly he pins her down with a calm, blank stare.

“So that’s it then, Simon?” She says, eyes narrowed. “We’re back to this now?”

He clenches his jaw but says nothing. It’s the wrong move because it seems to irritate her further. “You just-you left me.” She exclaims. “Acting like I don’t exist, actively ignoring me? What the fuck, Simon?” Mixed in with the fire in her eyes is a layer of hurt which he spots easily.

How does he explain himself?

She doesn’t give him the chance.

“I mean, fuck-” She exhales sharply, turning her head to the side for a moment. When she turns back his heart drops at the light sheen of dampness in her eyes. “If I knew you just wanted to sleep with me I wouldn’t have gone along with it.” Her voice is the barest bit less angry now, more...defeated. “You led me on for five months. Five months. Just to get me in my bed and call it a day.” She barks a laugh that makes a chill run down his spine. “You’re a heartless bastard, you know that?”

Her voice cracking at the end makes reality crash back down to him.

Muted horror creeps into him as he takes in what she’s saying, what she’s assumed.

She thinks he used her. Just wanted to get into her pants and toss her aside.

For the first time in years, Simon Riley feels dread.

“What was it? Was I not good enough for Ghost?” She mocks, but it’s almost like she’s talking to herself, reflecting in some sick way. “You saw someone who was easy on the eyes and took it as a challenge, is that it? For what, some kind of intrinsic satisfaction?” She runs a hand in her hair, briefly pulling at the roots before letting go. “You shouldn’t have pretended it meant anything to you when-”

“You don’t know anything.” He cuts her off with a low voice.

“I think I understand enough.”

“You don’t.”

“Then explain.” She exclaims, shoving him hard. The man doesn’t budge, hands snapping up to grab her wrists and keep them pressed to his chest. “Try and talk yourself out of this once you mangy-”

“It’s for your own good.” He says.

“Who the hell are you to decide what’s good for me?”

“I’m not easy, love.” He says, tightening his grip when she tries to pull her wrists away. “This was never going to be easy.”

“Don’t call me that.” She hisses, and damn if Ghost was a more emotive man it would have made him wince. “I was ready for that.” She clenches her fists. “I knew it would never be easy, but you’re making it fucking impossible by avoiding me.”

“You’ll get hurt.” He sighs, frustrated that she just doesn’t seem to understand.

“You’ve already hurt me.” Her voice breaks.

He blinks, her words rattling around in his mind for a second.

He has.

Simon has hurt her. Perhaps more than any physical injury probably could. Tears prick at her eyes, just barely about to fall, and he’s never seen her look so tired, so exhausted, and shaken even after some of their toughest missions.

Simon has seen her get shot in the leg and walk it off without a trace of tears, yet here she stands in front of him on the verge of breaking down because Simon made her feel used.

Worthless.

Because of him.

Shit.

Releasing a shaky breath at the realisation, Ghost lets his hands travel up her arms until they graze her shoulders, grabbing gently. She lets him.

It’s more than he deserves after what he’s let her believe for the past four days.

Dread, loathing, and anger churn through his gut. Not at her, never at her. At himself, for thinking that pushing away someone so strong-willed could ever result in anything but catastrophe for the both of them.

Screw him and his attempts at being selfless.

Simon Riley is a selfish man at heart.

He pulls her into his chest, sighing in muted relief as she pressed her forehead against his chest. Like she used to.

Like it belongs.

“Thought you’d be safer if you kept your distance.” He says low and accented into her temple, brushing his lips against it through his mask like he did the night he left. “I realised it that night.”

“So you left?” She whispers shakily, hands clutching onto the back of his t-shirt. “Instead of talking to over with me, you just fucking left?”

His throat tightens uncomfortably. “Thought it was best.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” If he feels her tears soak through his shirt, he doesn’t bring it up.

“I see that now.” He tangles a hand into her hair, and the familiarity of it nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs. “Didn’t know it’d hurt you this much.”

“I didn’t think-...” Her breath hitches, and she pulls away to try again, meeting his gaze with tear-stained eyes but a demanding, soft gaze. “I didn’t think it’d be that easy for you to leave.”

Screw him. His hands tighten around her and he shakes his head firmly.

“You think it was easy to leave you?” He scoffs, disbelief painting his voice. “You’re out of your mind if so.”

She blinks, stilling as if it’s new information and he’ll admit to feeling the slightest bit remorse that he’d led her to believe that he’d have no problem leaving behind one of the only good things in his life just like that. Without a second thought.

“It was harder than any goddamn op I’ve been through.” He rumbles, watching her eyes widen. “Didn’t think I’d get past your door before turning back.”

Her silence unsettles him, because she doesn’t speak for a moment, just takes him in. Weighing him, weighing his words and his actions. Five months of progress against one night of fucking up.

Simon won’t admit that he holds his breath, knowing that her next word would be a declaration of where the both of them would go from here.

Her answer comes in the form of her wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

The relief that hits him is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I’ll fix it.“ He mutters, rubbing circles into her waist. “I’ll fix this, sweetheart.”

“You better,” she whispers into his skin, her eyes fluttering shut.

Requests Are Open!

(30/06/2023)

[astroeleanor]

𓍢ִ໋💅🏻. ݁ ˖💆🏻‍♀️ ASTROLOGY BEAUTY SECRETS EXPOSED: How To Glow Up𓍢ִ໋💆🏻‍♀️. ݁ ˖💅🏻

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

Your Rising Sign, often referred to as your Ascendant, is the key to unlocking your true potential in terms of your appearance and personal magnetism. Embracing the archetype associated with your Rising Sign and taking into account the degree of your Ascendant can be a transformative journey towards enhancing your allure and making a lasting impression.

The Rising Sign colors the way you express yourself and how you're perceived by those around you. By aligning with its energies, you're tapping into a unique blueprint that can help you enhance your physical appearance, style, and the vibes you project.

Moreover, the degree of your Ascendant adds dimension to this equation. It refines and nuances the qualities associated with your Rising Sign, providing a deeper understanding of your beauty archetype and how you interact with the world. Exploring the specific degree of your Ascendant allows you to fine-tune your self-awareness, making it possible to elevate your charisma and presence in any social context.

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

ARIES – 1°, 13°, 25°: Incorporate red clothing or accessories into your wardrobe, engage in high-intensity physical activities, opt for daring haircuts and styles, experiment with vibrant lip colors, and work on boosting your self-confidence, as inner beauty shines through.

TAURUS – 2°, 14°, 26°: Choose a signature fragrance that exudes sensuality, accentuate your beauty with timeless jewelry pieces, opt for fabrics and textures that feel comfortable against your skin, take your time with beauty rituals, indulge in massages and self-care, and spend time in nature to recharge your energy and maintain a healthy glow.

GEMINI – 3°, 15°, 27°: Emphasize your eyes with playful eyeshadow colors and mascara to highlight your expressive nature, build a wardrobe with versatile pieces that allow you to express different facets of your personality, and experiment with a wide range of makeup looks to match your ever-changing nature.

CANCER – 4°, 16°, 28°: Opt for soft, natural makeup looks that enhance your gentle features, choose clothing that is comfortable and cozy, reflecting your desire for emotional security, and incorporate gentle, nurturing skincare products that cater to your sensitive nature.

LEO – 5°, 17°, 29°: Go for a sun-kissed look, choose regal and luxurious clothing that reflects your royal nature, adorn yourself with elegant and eye-catching jewelry, and experiment with dramatic or blonde hairstyles and colors that draw attention to your hair.

VIRGO – 6°, 18°: Consider going for a natural and minimalistic approach to makeup and fashion, maintain well-manicured nails, choose efficient yet stylish clothing that reflects your practicality and attention to detail, and embrace your critical eye but balance it with self-compassion and self-confidence.

LIBRA – 7°, 19°: Consider hairstyles that highlight your facial symmetry, opt for soft and pastel shades in makeup and clothing, practice good posture to project elegance and grace in your appearance, choose clothing that is elegant and refined, and cultivate inner harmony and peace, as your inner balance is reflected in your outer beauty.

SCORPIO – 8°, 20°: Emphasize your intense and mysterious eyes with smoky eye makeup or eyeliner, incorporate darker and more sensual colors in your makeup and clothing choices, and keep an air of mystery and privacy about yourself, as it adds to your enigmatic beauty.

SAGITTARIUS – 9°, 21°: Incorporate bright and vibrant colors in your makeup and clothing, opt for oversized clothing or sporty fashion that complements your on-the-go lifestyle, and cultivate a sense of wanderlust and curiosity, as it adds to your inner and outer beauty.

CAPRICORN – 10°, 22°: Choose classic and timeless makeup and fashion looks, select neutral and earthy tones, accessorize with high-quality pieces, cultivate self-confidence and authority in your demeanor, and invest in building an elegant wardrobe.

AQUARIUS – 11°, 23°: Build an eclectic wardrobe with a mix of vintage and contemporary pieces, invest in your dental care and skin care, express your individuality through your makeup, hairstyle, and fashion choices, and choose fragrances that are light, airy, and fresh.

PISCES – 12°, 24°: Experiment with soft, dreamy, and ethereal makeup looks, incorporate oceanic colors like blues and greens, choose clothing and fabrics with soft and flowing textures, and cultivate spiritual growth and awareness, which can add depth to your beauty.

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

🩸 I explore this topic in-depth on Youtube.

I’m so excited to share this information with you because I wish I could’ve had a video like this when I was younger. Brainstorming, filming & editing it was such a healing experience.

Anyway, I’m hoping it will help the girls, boys, they & thems who need it! <3

If you're excited to embark on this journey, tap the preview!

🌹 Additionally, I created a freebie that you can download with Bonus Tips for EACH Rising Sign to enhance your Glow Up Journey even further. TAP HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE FREE E-BOOK.

(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge. Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely. • 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :) • 🗡️ BOOK A READING with me to navigate your life with more clarity & awareness. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚v✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡(ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

[tsukimefuku]

wardrobe malfunction ❖ nanami kento

summary: your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, light nanami x reader, cursing, kind of suggestive but not exactly (?), second hand embarrassment is real, this is just pure crack to be honest, is reader lucky or unlucky? i fret, for i do not know, this is barely proofread because i wrote this absolute nonsense on a complete whim, i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it.

wc: 1k

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You had just finished blowing up a grade 2 curse that lunged at you full-speed. Your chest heaved up and down with tiny droplets of sweat coming down, as you panted inside the abandoned apartment complex. For a while, the adrenaline pumping through your veins made it hard to assess your state, but then, as you began decelerating and looked at your body, you realized something.

“Oh, no. Not again.” 

Considering your innate cursed technique involved casting small bombs of cursed energy, they could blow up through many things, and when you didn’t manage to distance yourself from them before the impact… Well, safe to say that some things were bound to happen.

You pulled your phone ready to call… someone. Anyone, really. But the ancient piece of technology that you failed to replace in these past few weeks wouldn’t let you access your contacts list, providing you solely with your three last dialed numbers — Gojo, Yaga and Nanami.

Your fucking phone. Your damn, fucking phone.

Just thinking about this had you beyond mortified, but it was either this, or never leaving the building again. So you took a deep breath before pressing dial.

***

Nanami found Shoko to take care of some minor injuries on his arm, and as she was finished, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and saw your name flashing on the screen.

As he answered, you stuttered for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak.

“So, Nanami, I need, uh, some assistance.” 

He found that to be odd, considering you knew he was on another mission today, and this was a solo endeavor for you.

“Has something happened?”

“So, you know how my technique works, right?”

That question had the sorcerer feeling somewhat puzzled, given he had seen you use it — and explain it — multiple times already.

“Of course, we've been on missions together, and you have explained it to me more than once.”

You sighed before proceeding. “So, here's the thing, I kind of blew myself up.” 

That quickly got his attention and he tensed up. Shoko had just finished removing her gloves and noticed it.

“Are you injured?” His usually impassive voice had a hint of worry to it.

“No, no. I'm fine. Sometimes this kind of happens, and I'm pretty used to blocking the impact and using RCT if needed.” 

Is it her? Is she okay? She better be, I need her tomorrow, Shoko whispered at Nanami as she walked around and sat on a bench in front of him.

He didn’t notice what she asked, as he was humming confusedly, given you still hadn’t clarified why you called.

Your voice kind of cracked up for a moment, as you violently blushed on the other side. At least, the phone is an imageless form of communication.

“So, I’m okay. But my clothes, they, uh… I blew them up.”

He slowly began taking in what exactly you were saying.

“That's it, that’s what happened. I… I need clothes, please. Can you bring me some, just so I can get out of here without getting arrested for public indecency?”

Nanami kept silent for some time, and felt a slight rush of heat run over his cheeks.

“Nanami?” 

He coughed slightly, tensing his posture as he did.

“Yes, of course. But wouldn't you rather someone else to do that for you, like Ms. Nitta, or one of the female students?” 

That caught Shoko’s attention, and she discreetly looked at the sorcerer while he was still on the phone with you.

You nearly gagged.

“No! No way. I… I'm mortified as is.”

Somebody please fucking kill me.

“I can't talk about this with anyone else. It's too damn embarrassing,”  you stated, letting your mind go to random facts in order to try lifting the mood. “I now understand why that student from Kyoto keeps taking his shirt off to fight, but that's beside the point.”

You were met at the wake of your failed joke.

“I-I mean… Just bring me something, please.” 

Nanami cleared his throat as he pulled on his tie and opened his shirt’s top button.

“Fine. Send me your location.”

You sighed, relieved.

“Great, you're the best, thank you!”

He switched his phone off and grounded himself for a moment.

“Is she alright?” 

“Yes, she is,” he answered, some words choking on their way up for a second. “Ms. Ieiri, do you happen to have any clothes around here?” 

“What? Why would you need that?”

He couldn’t muster up anything remotely feasible to say, and given that embarrassment is an infectious condition, it began creeping up on him, too.

Nanami resumed speaking. “… I'm sorry to bother you. I just remembered I can get an assistant's uniform.” 

He then walked towards the door to leave.

“Nanami…” Shoko began.

“Hm?” He asked, as turning around.

“… Are you blushing?”

“... Good afternoon,” he answered, before stepping out a little quicker than usual.

***

Nanami had just arrived, and you let him know you were upstairs. As he asked how you wanted to receive the clothes, you were insistent that he threw the bag over the steps, and being a reasonable and rational person, the sorcerer obviously declined to do that.

“Just throw the thing already!” you yelled from the top of the stairs, away from his sight.

“I’m not uncivilized,” he replied, sighing. “I’m going to put them down here, and wait for you outside.”  

Nanami was considerably less mortified than you would expect, but it was him, Mr. mature, after all. Also, this wasn’t the first embarrassing situation of yours that he had witnessed.

You were prone to setting yourself up for absurd shenanigans, it seemed.

As you heard him leave and close the door, you stepped your way down and flimsily put the black pants and white buttoned shirt, which didn’t match at all with the hiking boots you usually wore on missions.

You went outside, and were met by him, his usual impassiveness slightly disturbed by something you couldn’t quite yet identify.

“Thank you, Nanami,” you stated, sighing relieved.

“It’s no trouble,” he answered, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

You were both uncomfortably silent for a while.

“These kinds of unexpected things happ-”

“We will never talk about this again as long as I live, please, I can’t cope” you pleaded, voice simmering with desperation for this awkward moment to be over, “just, please.” 

He cleared his throat, mindlessly adjusting his tie around his neck. It strangely felt more tight than usual.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“No need. It’s fine. Let’s just go back to Jujutsu High and pretend this never happened.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he said, sparing you a quick glance.

You smiled, amused and thankful.

“Right. Precisely.” 

[obsessive-valentine]

You could make a scenario for the yanderes with an F!READER who knits them a scarf, but she is not experienced yet and ends up making them an ugly scarf but with lots of love and she stands in front of him all excited and smiling

‘The Ugly Scarf’ Yanderes x GN!Reader

Here are some of the yanderes reactions, I didn’t write then all in case they’d get repetitive because they all absolutely love it one way or another.

Classic Yandere - He adores it. You were waiting to greet him with your hands behind you back. Gleaming with joy, and before he could even question why you were out of the bedroom and if he needed to start chaining you again, you presented him with a messily knitted blue scarf. He held it gently smiling in endearment when seeing the range of loose and tight loops “I love it so much, your so talented” he slings it over his shoulder to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. He will keep telling you that you should keep knitting and how precious it is. He wears it to work everyday, and defends it with his life; anyone who jokes about it will get a nasty glare. Literally worships anything you make.

Barbarian - He reacts very much like when you gave him homemade jewellery, his brain buffers hard before realising what’s going on. Anytime you gift him something he takes it as a declaration of love and although he’s not initially delusional, knowing at first you don’t want to be with him -this might make him believe you now want to be with him. But unlike the jewellery he doesn’t wear it everywhere, it’s a fragile piece of clothing and he’ll be dammed it he breaks it in the slightest. No instead it’s proudly but safely hung from the tents beams, and neatly folded up into a trunk every time camp moves.

Vampire - Honestly he thinks it’s very ugly but in an endearing way, he’s been around for to many generations and seen some good scarfs while also carving out his own refined fashion style. But never have he been gifted something so full of love, seeing you stand infront of him full of true happinesses is all he can ask. So when you hand him the questionable scarf saying you made it for him, he forgets to breathe (not like he needs to) before recollecting himself and politely thanking you. “I think we should go pick out some more yarn and new needles to replace those old things you found in the attic” fully supports your new hobby. He also wouldn’t wear it, he’s got to make the frail thing last for the century’s to come, he keeps it folded up neatly in the room with his coffin so he can see it every morning before he sleeps.

Childhood Friend Fae - Much like yandere vampire^, he thinks it’s ugly but appreciates the sentiment “Now what did i do to deserve this? Yes darling I love it very much, thank you”. He wouldn’t wear it but it would become a comfort item. He keeps it in his home study, sometimes finding himself fiddling with it while doing stressful work.

The rest of the OC’s would all be very endeared and wear it most days, it would become a permanent part of their wardrobe. Even later when you start knitting much more advanced scarfs and insist to replace the old thing -they’d insist on keeping it and wear it now and then. Fisherman and Farmer find it especially useful when working in winter.

[murdockparker]

Foolish Endeavor - Part 8

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: To be, or not to be (a Bridgerton), that is the question. One that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has yet to ask.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, no actual smut, angst

A/N: it's a happy-sad chapter. that's all I gotta say mad lads

first part - previous part - next part

__

She hadn’t felt very well rested, not even the tiniest bit. No matter how tired she felt after last night’s escapades, the excitement that lingered in the air coursed through her veins, keeping her alert and awake for the entirety of the night. He hadn’t kept it much of a secret, not really.

Benedict Bridgerton was proposing. 

Today. 

While he practically proposed last night, bodies tangled together in a sweaty embrace, she knew a more formal question was coming later this morning or afternoon. It was only a matter of time before Benedict asked for her company, asked for her hand. She imagined he already discussed the details of their engagement, dowry and the like with her father before their visit to Aubrey Hall. Seeing as how her father couldn’t accompany them for the week and knowing how formal Benedict could be about situations just as this one.

A soft knock rang through the spacious room, followed by the entrance of Agnes, her lady’s maid. She was carrying a pitcher of fresh water and a rag, smiling lightly at the girl rolling in bed. 

“Good morning, miss,” Agnes said lovingly. She set the pitcher down on the desk, draping the cloth over the back of the chair. “I trust you slept well?”

“Of course,” she lied. “The beds here are divine, I reckon they’re stuffed with only the finest.”

“Oh yes,” Agnes nodded. “I’m sure the viscount has only the best in his home.”

“Did you sleep well, Agnes?”

“I slept just fine, my lady,” the maid said sweetly. “The staff’s lodgings are quite elegant. If I had half a mind, I would mention something to your mother…”

(Y/N) giggled, the sound dampening against the plushness of the bedding. “Consider it done, I’ll bring it up over tea.”

Agnes’ eyes lit up like a candle in the night—bright and ever glowing. She nodded softly before floating over to her lady’s bed to assist in her dressing. “I drew you a bath for this morning, I figured you may wish to take one after the exhausting day that was yesterday.” (Y/N)’s entire face flushed, the color creeping up from her neck. Surely the staff couldn’t have possibly heard anything from the study last eve, could they? “The carriage ride was much too hot for my liking, I myself washed up last evening.”

“Oh,” she coughed, patting her chest lightly. “Yes, I agree. Traveling in the summer months is always a hassle.”

“Should I set out your dressings for when you return, my lady?”

“Of course. That would be lovely.”

“Which one do you fancy for this morning?” Agnes asked, opening the wardrobe, now fitted out with the various silks and outfits they had packed for the week. Her eyes danced across the rainbow of colors before placing her hand on one. “I reckon Mr. Bridgerton will quite like this one."

“Agnes!” (Y/N) chided, suppressing a laugh.

“I’ll set it aside,” the maid hummed knowingly, placing the selected dress on the door to the wardrobe.

—

The dress Agnes had picked out was quite the stunning piece, the fanciest of the day dresses they had packed. The sleeves were almost entirely a thick lace, meeting the crook of her elbow with grace. Colored to match the sky on a summer’s day, the gown had matching white accents one could nearly mistake for clouds, a slightly darker azure pulled everything together on the bodice. It was the epitome of class, the finest handiwork once could find in the ton.

He thought she was breathtaking. 

He normally thought so, of course. This morning, however, she looked nearly as radiant as the sun. His sun. He knew it was going to be a good day, with her smiling as sweetly as she was. He had to restrain himself from reaching into his pocket and falling to his knee immediately, his better judgment getting the best of him. 

“Lady (Y/N),” Benedict greeted her, bowing lightly to appease the other eyes following them in the room. 

“Benedict,” she curtsied back. 

“Might you do me the honor of accompanying me on a promenade this morning?” He asked, brow arched up, his lovesick smirk ever apparent.

“Of course,” she nodded before turning to her side. “Though, we will need to find a chaperone—” 

“I’ll join you.”

“A walk could do me some good.”

Both the countess and dowager viscountess spoke in the same breath, flustered at the sudden attention on themselves. They both seemed too eager to join the happy couple this afternoon, for no reason in particular.

“You are both free to join us,” Benedict nearly laughed. “We are set to promenade around the gardens, I wish to enjoy your lovely flowers, Mother.”

“Oh yes,” (Y/N) nodded enthusiastically. “Lady Bridgerton, your gardens are quite the spectacle.”

Violet waved them off, nearly embarrassed. “Oh you two flatter me so terribly.”

“Oh but I have to agree, Violet. You simply must tell me where you found your florist,” the countess smiled. “Theodore would love the blooms you have out here.”

“Well, I hardly think they’re a secret,” Violet said, voice dropping to a murmur before leaning into the countess’ side. “But I’ll extend their information to you posthaste.”

The women giggled, both taken at the joy of the afternoon—Benedict and (Y/N) still in their own little world.

“Pall-mall is this afternoon,” Benedict said thoughtfully, extending his arm for his beloved to take. “I recall your proficiency at the game, has that changed?”

(Y/N) shook her head, beginning to walk with Benedict towards the gardens, mamas in tow. “No, of course not. If anything I simply have gotten even better than you recall.”

He let out a laugh, warm and thick like honey. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Anthony suggested the match a day or so prior to your arrival, something about fond memories from childhood—” 

“Really? You’re sure he doesn’t wish to try and best his family to look good for his future bride?”

“Ah, the viscount would never dare use his family as a pawn for his marriage,” Benedict said seriously. “But, trying to best Daphne will be his greatest feat.”

“The duchess is joining us?” She asked, allowing Benedict to open the garden gate for her. He hummed.

“She would never dare miss an opportunity to lay claim to her rightful place as the best Bridgerton pall-mall player,” Benedict chuckled. “Well, I suppose she also wished to meet Miss Sharma, should Anthony get off of his sorry behind and actually propose…”

Violet Bridgerton loved her garden in Kent—her and her husband had a rather fondness to the country—leaving her gardens to be quite the sight to behold. The young couple spent many a day in the gardens in their youth, playing and chasing the other around. Last year, Anthony had commissioned a small fountain to be added for their mother's birthday, it was the new jewel of the grounds. 

It was the perfect place, Benedict had decided.

“Why do you think our mamas are following us so closely?” (Y/N) asked quietly, tightening her grip on Benedict’s arm.

“They’re pretending to be interested in the roses,” Benedict whispered, turning to look back at his mother and the countess. The women seemed flushed, their attention drawn a bit too closely at the blooms. “But I believe they’re waiting with bated breath for something extraordinary to happen."

“And what, pray tell, would they be waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?” Her heart began to pound, surely the small babbling of the fountain did nothing to hide it.

A grin spread across his face, one that was lopsided and all-too-sweet, his gaze warm enough to set aflame. “Perhaps they’re waiting for…this?” He removed his arm from (Y/N)’s grip, slinking down to one knee. Benedict thanked any God who would listen he had the bright idea to practice the gesture before this moment, as it hopefully looked as graceful as it felt. With only a slightly shaking hand, he took her own.    

“Oh!” Lady Kent squealed from behind. Lady Bridgerton was quick to pull her close—as if to not ruin the moment. 

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have been a constant at my side. Your friendship has been a balm on my worried heart for the many years I have had the pleasure of knowing you,” Benedict began, trying to keep his voice steady. “How lucky am I, to have found such a partner in my greatest friend? How lucky would I be, if that partner agreed to spend the rest of her days with me?”

“Benedict…” She had begun to cry. She had known he was proposing today, and yet, she still begun to cry.

“(Y/N),” Benedict repeated her name like a prayer, “will you do me the honor of making me half of the happiest pair the universe has ever seen? Will you marry me?”

A box suddenly appeared in his other hand, a glittering ring shining in the morning sun. It surely wasn’t a family ring, no, it looked to be brand new, like he had it made especially for her. Benedict had asked Lady Bridgerton about family rings but never quite found one that spoke to him—so he took matters into his own hands. 

A delicate cluster of pearls with shining sapphires, all adorned like a flower in bloom. He had been torn on the sapphires, but secretly, a part of him wished for her to have the staple Bridgerton color, blue, with her always. A small claim, a slightly possessive way for him to show she is his at all times. 

If she didn’t already have her answer before this moment, seeing Benedict on the ground, bearing his heart out to her in front of a beautiful scene—and their mamas—it couldn’t have come any easier. 

“Yes!” She squealed, falling to the ground to meet Benedict in an amorous embrace—dress be damned, society be damned.

He nearly fell over, arm steadily snaking its way around her waist, holding her tight against him. He knew he was close to tears, but seeing his love on the same precipice nearly sent him over the edge. “If our mamas weren’t looking…” Benedict whispered into her ear, holding her tight against him, his words a secret to her alone. 

“I simply don’t care,” (Y/N) murmured, turning his face towards her own, lips nearly attacking his. What started as a passionate celebration had melted into something more substantial—a far cry from any other kiss they had shared before. This was not just a kiss from a friend, a kiss from a lover, no, this was a kiss between a husband and wife. The passion was not lost on them, but it took perhaps a second too long to fully realize that their mothers were still very much watching.

“Ehem!” Lady Kent cleared her throat, cheeks rosy as the blooms beside her.

“Relax Mama,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling herself to her feet, assisting Benedict to reaching his own as well. “What is the worst thing to happen? Force us to marry faster?”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Benedict murmured, dusting off his pants. 

“Er, no, I suppose there’s nothing—” Lady Kent sighed, turning to Violet. “Should we petition for a speedy ceremony?”

“Oh hush,” Violet admonished, laughing lightly. “One kiss between betrothed is not a ruin. However,” she looked at the newly affianced couple with a narrow gaze, the one of a strict mother, “I would not make it a habit until you are wed.”

“Of course, Mother,” Benedict nodded, trying his very best to not laugh out loud. 

“My lady,” a butler had come up from behind the proud mothers. “The duchess has arrived.”

“Oh! Splendid,” Violet cooed. “Benedict, do see to it that you and your fiancée greet your sister, I am sure she would be most pleased at your news.”

“We shall inform the family before pall-mall,” Benedict said decidedly. “Just another reason to celebrate.”

“Just think,” Lady Kent sighed, turning to walk with Lady Bridgerton back to the estate. “By the end of the week you will have two sons set to be wed! A joyous celebration indeed.”

“If Anthony is truly engaged at the end of the week,” Benedict said quietly, words only meant for his fiancée to hear, “then the world has turned upside down.”

They both laughed. 

—

“Is Anthony still attached to the black mallet?” (Y/N) asked, arm in arm with her new fiancé. “I recall a near bloodbath for it the last time I played pall-mall with your family.”

“Far more than one would realize,” Benedict nodded. “One would suspect he carried and birthed the bloody thing…”

“Funny,” (Y/N) said. “He birthed the mallet? Here I thought he still had a stick up his—”

“(Y/N)!”

“What? I will not apologize for saying what I was thinking—and if I knew any better, you were too.”

“He’s been… a bit un-agreeable the last few weeks, regarding the whole notion of Miss Sharma and whatnot,” Benedict sighed.

“So you do not disagree.”

“He is my brother,” Benedict stated.

“Indeed,” (Y/N) hummed.

Even having descended these steps only two hours prior to their inevitable engagement, the yard had completely transformed. Shade and snacks had been put up for the spectators, hoops were currently being put in the ground and staff were carrying out the dreaded mallet container.

“What a lovely afternoon for pall-mall,” Lady Mary said.

“And a lovely afternoon to celebrate an engagement,” Lady Bridgerton added, looking directly at the happy couple. 

“Oh yes,” Lady Mary smiled. “Congratulations on the engagement, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Kent.”

“Save your congratulations for the ball in the next few days,” Lady Kent laughed. “I suspect it will be the talk of the ton anyhow.”

The older ladies laughed with one another. The younger adults began their trek to the mallet box, determination in each of their eyes. 

“Eloise, are you sure you do not wish to play?” Colin asked, turning to his younger sister.

“I have other matters to deal with,” she said sitting from the steps, nose in her book. “Besides, someone had to sit out so our guests could play…”

“I could have sat out—” Colin began.

“And the sky is green, Brother,” Benedict said, clapping his younger brother’s back. “Everyone knows you would’ve been a worse spoilsport if you sat out instead.”

“Perhaps Lady (Y/N) could have sat out, then?”

“You’d make my fiancée sit out?” Benedict gasped, clearly jesting. “She is to be your sister soon, Colin. It’s preposterous that you would even suggest such a thing!”

“Ben,” (Y/N) giggled, hand placed gently on his shoulder. “I do not think Colin truly meant it.”

“Congratulations, again,” Colin nodded towards the to-be-Bridgerton. “Why you wish to marry into this family is beyond me.”

“I fear I am still asking myself such a question,” she hummed, plainly ignoring Benedict’s souring expression. “But I am sure I’ll be reminded during our spirited game of pall-mall.”

“Reminded of what?” Daphne asked, walking with the Sharma sisters. She had been explaining the game in earnest to them.

“How much fun our family has playing a rousing game of pall-mall,” Colin said, shit-eating grin on his face. Anthony tried his best to ignore it, taking his attentions to Miss Sharma—the younger, not the elder.

“Shall we begin?” Anthony coughed, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“I shall pick first,” Colin said, reaching for the black mallet.

“No!” Anthony practically yelled, causing a shock to the group. “I-I mean, we pick based on alphabetical order.”

“So, by Bridgerton standards, eldest to youngest?” (Y/N) mused. Benedict huffed a laugh as his brothers began to fight.

“The only fair thing to do,” Daphne spoke up, ever the voice of reason, “is to let our invited guests choose their mallets and strike first.”

“Please, take your pick, Miss Edwina,” Anthony conceded, bowing to the younger Sharma. Edwina looked carefully over the mallets, eyes scanning over every color—almost as if she was afraid to pick the wrong one. She pointed decidedly to the blue one, Anthony grabbing it for her with haste. “An excellent choice.”

Kate wasted no time in choosing her mallet—black and foreboding. The mallet of death. 

“Would you look at that, Brother?” Benedict sniggered, clearly amused by Anthony���s annoyance. 

“Is this yours?” Kate asked. 

“Not at all. You’re welcome to it,” Anthony sighed.

“You near threatened to beat me the last time I touched—”

“You exaggerate,” Anthony fumed, eyes like daggers towards Colin.

“Are you the superstitious sort, Lord Bridgerton?” Kate asked, twirling the mallet like a prized trophy. “I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools. Like a child with a blanket.”

“Oh I like her,” (Y/N) said softly, her words nearly lost amongst the guffaw of the Bridgerton family.

“I can play perfectly well with any mallet,” Anthony said.

“My sun, I do believe it is your pick,” Benedict said, clearing the laugh from his throat. She nodded, taking her claim on the lavender mallet. It seemed the most appealing and an easy color to spot from the grass. “Lavender is a fine color for you.”

“Shall we dilly dawdle all afternoon?” Colin sighed. “Or shall we…” 

It was like a hunt. Each of the playing Bridgertons tried to stake their claim on a mallet, all avoiding one in particular. Benedict grabbed a golden yellow, Colin choose green, Daphne a nice seafoam color, leaving Anthony with the pastel pink. 

“To the field of combat!” Daphne exclaimed, holding her mallet straight up in the air. 

Combat was an accurate descriptor. While it had been years since she had played pall-mall, even longer since she had played it with the Bridgertons, Lady (Y/N) found it refreshing. It nearly made her wonder if this could have been her life growing up—a lively life with siblings to bicker with and pick on. 

Regardless, it will be her life now, as soon as she marries Benedict. Soon she’d be a Bridgerton. Soon she’d have the family she’d always dreamt of. Siblings, children, the whole lot.

“I say, that was a good shot Lady (Y/N)!” Colin cheered, clapping politely at her latest hit. She had managed to knock Daphne’s ball near a cluster of bushes. “Always a win in my book to best Daph.”

“Oh hush,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “It was a bold move, I will concede to that, well done (Y/N).”

“Dropping her title, are we?” Benedict asked, stepping beside his sister. “You of all people know better etiquette, Your Grace.”

“And what is better etiquette than calling my newest sister by her given name?” Daphne sang, hopping along to her ball. She may be married and a new mother with one on the way, but she still was very much a girl at heart. 

“I truly don’t mind, Benedict,” (Y/N) insisted. “It won’t matter in a few weeks, anyhow.”

“Perhaps you won’t mind this, then?” Colin said. In a blink of an eye, her purple ball went flying towards Daphne’s. 

“Not at all, Colin,” (Y/N) curtsied. “You only made the game more fun, I would have been crestfallen if you were taking it easy on me.”

“Never,” he scoffed. 

“Exactly right,” (Y/N) said, following Daphne over to her ball.

“I’m happy for you. She’s a catch, Ben,” Anthony said, pulling his younger brother out of his love-sick daze. Benedict nodded, not fully listening. “Everyone suspected it to happen, since we were young.”

“I wish someone would have told me sooner,” Benedict jested, “it would have saved us both some time, I manage.”

“I believe Father had made a joke about it once before,” Anthony said. “But, I assume your head was too stuck in the clouds to hear it.”

“Father did, truly?” Benedict’s brow raised. “He was rather observant, I suppose I do not doubt it.”

“You know, I must hand it to you, Brother,” Colin said, cutting in with his brothers. “Courting Lady (Y/N) was a feat I’m surprised you pulled off.”

“Do you not think we are a suited match?” Benedict asked. “Am I not charming enough? Not handsome enough?”

“You are a Bridgerton, of course you are enough,” Colin said.

“I think he means he is just surprised you managed to snag the daughter of an earl,” Anthony said simply. “You are a second son, it is nearly unheard of.”

“She is more than that—”  

“Of course she is,” Anthony said, raising his hand in defense, the other on his pink mallet. “She is your greatest friend and soon to be your wife—of course she is more than just the earl’s daughter.”

“She is my sun,” Benedict said simply. 

Anthony and Colin gave each other a look. “Ever the poet,” Colin chuckled. “You could have stopped at ‘she’s more than that’.”

She had been trying to strategize how best to get her purple ball back to the next wicket. Colin had sent it rather far from the next target, but it was no matter. She was determined to get it back into play—to show the Bridgertons she could roll with the punches. A small wave was sent her direction, one attached to a rather love-sick man, tall and handsome with a wicked grin. 

She waved back, an equally lovesick smile on her lips. 

“How fortunate,” Anthony noted. “Now your son will inherit the earldom, yes?”

“I…” Benedict’s regard turned back to his brother. How easily he was distracted by Lady (Y/N). “Yes, I suppose that is what’s expected of our union, what her parents expect of us.”

“Just think,” Colin said boisterously, “two titles in one family!”

“A viscount and an earl, both Bridgertons,” Anthony cooed, much like a child. “Well done brother! What a success for our family—Father would be proud.”

“I understand the sudden interest in Lady (Y/N) now, Brother,” Colin said, balancing on his mallet. “It rather makes sense, does it not?” 

“I think Father would be more proud that I am marrying for love,” Benedict corrected, growing a bit annoyed at his brothers jesting. 

“Love? Oh yes,” Anthony waved. “Sure, sure. But the earldom? How lucky you’ve bagged her, Brother. Bridgerton, Earl of Kent!”

Benedict forced a laugh. 

“Well, that is not—” 

A purple ball rolled next to his feet, stopping just before his toes. 

She had looked like she had seen a ghost, Lady (Y/N). Her grip tightened on her mallet, white gloves contrast to the purple. “I think I shall cut out for the day.”

The Bridgerton brothers were silent, Benedict inching towards her.

“(Y/N)—”

“I am in need of a respite,” she said, not looking back. “Too much sun.”

Benedict felt his blood run cold, his hand glued to the air. Every sense of his was fleeting, his sight blurring, his mouth running dry. 

“You dolt,” Daphne admonished, smacking her second eldest brother as she came upon them. “You must talk to her.”

“I-I will,” Benedict nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Well not now,” Daphne sighed. “Give her a moment to collect her thoughts. A conversation now could be… explosive.”

“Is the game finished, my lord?” Edwina pranced over, brows furrowed.

“Ah, yes,” Anthony cleared his throat. “Well, no. Lady (Y/N) and Benedict have cut out, isn’t that right?”

Benedict nodded numbly, dropping his mallet to the grass.

“The game is still set—minus yellow and purple,” Anthony said stoically, rightfully ignoring his brother heading towards the estate. 

Feet like lead, every step he took felt like a death sentence, a man on his way to execution.

Somehow, he much preferred that thought.

__

He knocked at her door, three hours later. 

For two hours he sobbed and for an hour he drank, trying to wrap his head around how he’d approach this, how he’d approach her. He had pressed a wet rag to his face. Helps with the puffiness, a staff member told him. He hoped for it to be true. 

He knocked again.

“Go away.”

Benedict sighed, leaning up against the wood. “I’m afraid that’s unlikely. We must speak.”

“I am not opening the door.”

“And I am not leaving.”

A pause. 

Then, the lock clicked. 

The man took a deep breath, preparing for every possible outcome. He was never much of a planner, but in this very instance? He wish he had clairvoyance, a crystal ball perhaps, to see how this would end. Benedict could only hope it ended with them at the end of the aisle, hand in hand at the altar. 

“You would have stayed out there all night,” she said simply as he entered the room. She had resigned herself to standing in the dead center of the bedchambers, her arms crossed.

“Yes,” Benedict said. “I would have.”

“Stubborn,” she scoffed, turning towards the window. 

He took the moment to shut the door—they were engaged, no need for propriety now. “We are expected at dinner this evening,” Benedict said quietly. “To celebrate the engagement.”

“Naturally.”

“You do not wish to go to dinner,” Benedict surmised.

“Naturally,” she repeated, her shoulders tensing.

“You must eat—” 

“I would rather starve.”

“That is a bit ridiculous,” Benedict scoffed. “Surely you are not that angry.”

“You do not get to tell me how angry I am allowed to be,” (Y/N) said, finally turning around. “If I do not wish to show face at dinner, I will not show face.”

Benedict’s gaze softened on her, finally seeing her face. He would never assume anything about her, it would make for a terrible habit for the years to come, but if he had to make an educated guess, she had been crying just as much as he had.

He wished he had a rag to offer.

“I apologize—”

“For which instance?” (Y/N) asked cooly. “For earlier? For dictating my feelings?”

“The first—both, I suppose,” Benedict ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps he was losing strands from the stress. “Look, (Y/N)—” 

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“What?”

“You have known me for many years,” (Y/N) said. “Do you take me for a fool?”

He had the fleeting thought of mentioning how poorly she played cards, how foolish her tactics were. The only time he’d ever call her a fool. He decided he’d be more the fool if he so much as loosened his lips on that thought. “No.”

“I do not need you to explain yourself, you and your brothers made it quite clear this afternoon,” (Y/N) tightened her arms, nearly folding in on herself. “Quite clear on your true intentions with the earldom.”

“My true intentions? My only intention is and ever was to marry you. Absolutely none of this came from the title.”

“Is that why you suddenly had an interest in me? To secure another title of nobility for your family’s lineage?”

“Of course not! I have loved you since I knew what love truly was, (Y/N). It did not happen overnight.”

Frustrated, she began to pace about the room, fire crackling nearly in time with her beating heart. The air was tense, thick. Shadows begun dancing from the flames, painting themselves onto the bookshelves with ease and without hesitation. Their furrowed brows were prominent against the flickering, set in stone. 

“‘Did not happen overnight’,” (Y/N) scoffed. “You had the opportunity when I debuted seasons ago, why now? Why not then?”

“I was fooling myself,” Benedict pressed a hand against his chest. “I know how this may look, my sun—”

“You,” she cut him off, eyes hardened. “Do not get to call me that. Not right now.”

Benedict took a step back. She was dead serious. He could only recall one other time in their lives that she had such a ferocity to her character—it had involved her father discarding a handful of books from her own personal collection, resulting in her not speaking to him for the better part of a month. If he thought her looks could kill then, Benedict Bridgerton was expecting to have his funeral by the end of the night.

“You misunderstand,” Benedict began carefully, as if to not break any eggshells. “My brothers—you know how they are. Anthony was merely making a joke.”

“It was in poor taste.”

“I agree!” Benedict exclaimed. “My laughter then, it was one of the forced kind, one I save only for the deeply unpleasant conversations I tend to have during the season.”

She stood silent for a moment.

“Yet you laughed."

“I… did. My su—love, I apologize from the deepest parts of me. I wish to marry you, earldom or not. Titles mean nothing, but you? Darling, you mean everything to me."

“So it was just a coincidence that you decided to show up at my door the morning after I shared the truth of my family’s wishes for my future match? Surely you do not take me for a fool.”

Benedict sighed, feeling the anger bubbling in his chest. “While you may have shared that information, the only thing I could even begin to think about since you had left that afternoon was that I had a chance!”

She blinked. 

“Imagine, loving your best friend, watching her and admiring her from afar, knowing she’s destined to be with and marry another. Marry some… some duke or titled man, someone every mama would be floored to have pair with their daughter,” Benedict felt as if he were on stage, his only audience watching him intently. “But to fathom you’d ever marry me? A second son? Surely you could consider me mad for ever entertaining that, for even ever dreaming of it.”

“You have no idea the type of man I wished to have married,” (Y/N) said, her voice cooler than ice. Calculated, perhaps. “Had you been honest from the start—”

“And ruin our friendship?” Benedict laughed, no humor found in his voice. “Lose you? The greatest thing to come of my time on this planet? No. Perish the thought.”

“You’re a fine actor,” (Y/N) said slowly, trying to keep her composure. “Because from the way I see it? You found a way to ensure a new title for the Bridgerton name—woo your ‘greatest friend’ and effectively ruin her by taking her on your brother’s desk!”

“Do not make it seem like you had no say in the matter—”

“I loved you!” (Y/N) screamed, finally reaching her breaking point. “I thought you would be the man I would marry! I wanted you, Benedict, more than I ever wanted anyone.”

“Loved…?” Benedict felt smaller than dirt. “You do not mean—”

“I will still marry you,” (Y/N) continued. “Only because you have effectively trapped me—what if I am to be with child?” She nearly laughed at the absurdity. “Seeing as you had the grace to not only ruin me, but finish in me—”

“Is that what you think?” Benedict broke, his voice quavering. “You think that I tried to trap you into a marriage to ensure my family a new title? That I had the thought—the foresight—to try and make you with child to give you no other options? In no way you could think so little of me—”   

“And yet here we are,” her voice was like venom. "Perhaps you will have your Bridgerton earl after all."

He dared not speak a word.

“I need some time to think. Mother and I are going back to Mayfair—do not follow us.” (Y/N) left the room, slamming the door so hard one might have assumed it cracked. 

Much like his heart.

__

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[artist-ellen]

Heyyy!! Question, what was riding clothes for royal women like? I know skirt and bodice 2-pieces sort of clothing was mostly used. But like in fantasy, were breeches/pants/trousers ever popular in women's riding clothes? If so, do you happen to have any reference picture. Thank youu in advance. Have a lovely day.

I'm a little confused because... that is a very broad question. What Royal women? From what time period? From what country? From what fantasy world???

What I think you're trying to ask is if I know about historical clothing designed for riding animals (potentially horses?) that could help your research for a fantasy setting. (I also think you're asking about Europe based on the skirt-bodice description, so I'll answer mostly about that)

(Princess Lousie, Great Britain riding habit, late 1800s)

The most likely answer you are looking for is the riding habit. A riding specific outfit from Europe in the late 1700s-1800s. The Victorian ladies were getting more and more into hobbies like horse riding and their wardrobes changed to accommodate that.

(Queen Elizabeth ii in a royal riding costume)

Riding habits were gowns that were designed to maintain their modesty/fashion while they rode horses. This meant longer hemlines, and sometimes hidden pants. Looking at bicycle shorts/skirts from the Edwardian era might also help in designing or describing hidden pants.

(Obviously horses were ridden by women in Europe before the 1700s but there wasn't necessarily an associated outfit.)

(Catherine the Great riding side saddle)

A lot of older examples of women riding horses are "side-saddle", so they are able to wear their skirts and ride modestly. So if you're planning an older civilization riding horses but don't want chariot/palaquin/carriage the side-saddle is a good reference point. However if you're bringing up fantasy worlds to ride something non-horse sized, let's say a dragon, it could be too dangerous to ride side-saddle.

The weight-distribution and holding-on ability is very different to a regular saddle. I don't know about you but I wouldn't want to have one saddle loop keeping my seat on a flying dragon.

Generally I want to say that (European) Royal women didn't/don't wear pants to ride horses. At least not until women in general were wearing pants (fashionably), and even then... for official duties, processions, and the like... they still wore skirts. I think Princess Anne doesn't ride side-saddle for some occasions, but Princess Anne is also often wearing her military uniform for such things.

I think if you are looking for historical women wearing trousers to ride horses the majority of references I can think of aren't from Europe. For example in West Asia we have horse-riding women, figures like Mulan, female samurai who rode horses, etc, etc.

(Nellie Brown, you can see the buttons on the front of her skirt. Think of it like a skort with modesty buttons)

TLDR: Most women wore some sort of skirt (sometimes with hidden pants, buttons to make the skirt open and close for more range of movement and modesty, longer hemlines or extra fullness to accommodate the horse in their modesty, etc.) until it was fashionable for women in general in their society to wear pants.

[beegalactica]

HOT GIRLS ARE CONSCIOUS.

I haven't been on Tumblr in about 3 months (life has been busy), and when I finally decided to check back in today, I kept seeing the same thing over and over again, so I am here to dispel some myths.

If you have seen any of my posts, you will know the issues I have with traditional TikTok-y trendy 'glow-up' advice, but today I realised how much of it is just a ploy to get us to spend tons of money on things we CAN live without. I think we all need to be more CONSCIOUS: conscious of what we can realistically afford and implement into our daily lives.

For example, in a typical 'glow-up' advice post, tiktok or youtube video, they recommend these super unrealistic routines that include a full skincare routine of every type of cream you could ever imagine, and an incredibly detailed list that lays out how you need to spend every 10 minutes of your day in order to achieve this perfect form.

It's all hear-say.

Don't get roped into thinking that you need those brand new clothes, or you need those skincare items to be your best self. The idea of turning your 'glow-up' into a sustainable part of your life is to do things you can manage to do over and over again. The secret to glowing up permanently is having a routine that keeps you happy and healthy. Instead of buying a full shelf of skincare all in one go, get 1 or 2 items with positive reviews to start. You don't need to throw out your whole wardrobe and sell your soul to TEMU just to look aesthetic; use what you have. Rather than making short term impulsive purchases, treat every part of your life as an investment.

Especially when it comes to clothing, being someone who has lost weight and no longer fits into all their old clothes, instead of throwing everything out and starting from scratch, I bought a little amazon sewing kit with a couple of needles and different types of thread and started cutting and sewing my way to a better wardrobe. (Even TODAY, I turned an old pair of jeans that I never wear into a cute miniskirt all from a 5 minute YouTube tutorial.) If sewing isn't your thing, you can try using some hemming tape and an iron, fabric glue, or whatever you can. Be conscious of the things you buy and how often you buy them.

I know lots of people like thrifting, and you can thrift online with apps like Vinted, which I personally use and love, if you don't have access to massive thrift stores like they do in America (I'm totally not jealous at all 🙄🙄; I live in the UK and the closest things I have near me are charity shops but there's a sort of stigma around shopping in them but honestly who cares what others think).

When you shop for clothes, look for timeless and versatile pieces you can mix and match, layer and style with lots of different things, allowing you to wear them well. Try to find good staple pieces, that will make the basis of your wardrobe. Be an outfit repeater. Do not blindly follow trends; take the time to curate and explore to find your style. Make a massive Pinterest board of everything you think looks good, and start to make a list of common items of clothing and accessories you save the most; these will be your staples. Don't feel like you have to stick strictly to one aesthetic; my wardrobe ranges from 'fairycore' maxi skirts to y2k denim skirts, but what matters is that I am mindful of whether I will use the things I want to buy.

Of course, feel free to treat yourself, you 100% deserve it, but don't get sucked into the idea that your self worth is determined but WHAT you have; instead it should be how you FEEL in what you have.

I like to see my blog as a little notebook of things I wish I could have told my younger self, and things I want to remind my future self, and I feel like it would be a disservice to not talk about the oversaturation of our feeds with infinite products, to the point where everything feels like an AD.

Moral of the story: don't just take everything you see online at face value. Don't get trapped in extensive consumerism; it's bad for your bank account, it's bad for the environment and it's bad for your mental health.

Also here's my Pinterest if you want to have a peek around <3 Pinterest