#white paper pendant lighting

[radleyarts]

Inspiration for a medium-sized 1950s great room renovation without a fireplace

[homespuntheatre]

Bedroom Kids Room An illustration of a medium-sized transitional kids' bedroom with blue walls, a gray floor, and a concrete floor.

[betafishtank]

Bathroom Powder Room Boston Image of a small, elegant powder room with a medium-toned wood floor and gray cabinets, multicolored walls, a two-piece toilet, and recessed-panel cabinets.

[birdcageromance]

Contemporary Bedroom (Miami)

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

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[honey-crypt]

a/n: a request from the lovely @fuerrziah! the rest of my drafts are smut requests and i've been anti-horny soooo... have some short but tooth aching sweet fluff!!

word count: 892

warnings: none

summary: a surprise dinner has elliott questioning what you have up your sleeve. little does he know, you have hidden a mermaid's pendant somewhere at the table.

★ honeysuckles and pomegranates - elliott x farmer ★

Elliott clutched the ornate letter close to his chest, as he approached the entrance to the local farm. He recited the contents of the letter by heart in his mind, as if it was a mantra of good luck. Over and over again, the writer repeated to himself, Meet me tonight at 9pm. I have a surprise for you. Dress up. 

And- oh, boy- did Elliott dress up. His day to day appearance reflected nothing but sophistication and charm in his neatly pressed shirts and bold accents, but his “dress up” attire blew that essemble out of the water. Elliott wore his hair in a low ponytail, secured in an emerald green ribbon. He dressed in a flowy white shirt and paired it with relaxed red slacks, his overcoat shrugged off his shoulders like a shawl. His brown Oxfords echoed against the dirt ground, as Elliott approached his beloved’s farmhouse. 

Outside, the farm was illuminated by bronze lanterns, the core areas sporting at least one. Fireflies filled the remaining darkness out with the occasional flicker of dim light. Elliott knocked on the door and awaited for his beloved. A few footsteps rang out from behind the door, closer and closer until the redhead came face to face with you, his love. 

“Hello, honeysuckle,” the term of endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly. You beamed up at Elliott, “Hello, pompom~” your tongue, meanwhile, teased out the pet name for Elliott. He let out a snort, uncharacteristically poignant of his usual prim and proper self. Yet, with you, Elliott allowed himself to ‘let loose’ and forgo any formalities. 

“You said in your letter-” he unfolded the precious paper of parchment and double-checked its contents, “That you had a surprise for me?” you nodded and held out your hand, “Lemme show you,” the writer graciously took your hand and followed you towards the surprise. Nested within the lushious orchard on your property, fairy lights shined upon a magnificent scene. A small table with two chairs stood proudly in the center, as soft instrumentals hummed from the radio. A bottle of chilled pomegranate wine rested in an ice box on the table, a plate of freshly steamed crab cakes on each side of the chairs. Elliott could only gawk like a dumbstruck fool at the sight before him.

“What do you think? I got this all set up for you,” your voice brought him back into reality. Elliott blinked and turned to you, “What do I think?” he pulled you close and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, “I believe you have outdone yourself once again, my dear.”

“I’m glad you like it!” you giggled, your smile ever so bright in Elliott’s eyes. You then gestured to the grand dinner, “Let’s eat,” the redhead nodded in agreement and took a seat at the table with you, his mouth salivating at the sight of his favorite meal. 

Goodness, this must have cost them a small fortune, the writer thought to himself while he dug into the heavenly assortment. As the meal went on, the two of you exchanged recaps of your day, the latest town gossip, and so on. It was just like every other dinner date, but in his heart, Elliott knew something was slightly off about this date, as his nose twitched throughout the dinner. 

“I propose a toast,” his ears perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. You held up your glass of wine and Elliott followed in suit, “Just like old times,” the writer mused. Elliott smiled fondly at the memory, the night he felt the spark ignite in his chest, as he proposed a toast to your friendship. The way your smile lit up the saloon, the way you merrily drank your ale, it was no surprise that Elliott fell head over heels for you. 

“I wish to toast to…” your eyes darted to the ice box, “Our love,” you lifted up the ice box, revealing an all too familiar necklace. Elliott’s jaw went slack at the necklace, the vibrant blue pendant glistening under the moonlight. You grasped the Mermaid’s Pendant and held it out to Elliott, “The moment we shared that drink in the saloon was the night I fell in love with you, Elliott. Underneath your elegant persona, I saw a man full of wonder and laughter,” tears began to swell up in the writer’s eyes, “Elliott, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

“Yes!” he nearly shrieked, forgoing any restraint and practically throwing himself at you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, your hands playing with Elliott’s long ginger hair while he held you as close as he possibly could. When you finally pried yourself off one another, Elliott flashed you that million dollar smile of his and hummed, “Do you want to know something funny?”

“Of course,” you answered, eyes twinkling with curiosity. Elliott rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small box, “I planned on proposing to you, too,” he opened the box and revealed an identical Mermaid’s Pendant. You broke out into a grin and kissed your fiancé feverishly, pulling away only to put the engagement token around Elliott’s neck. He returned the favor and stared down at your neck, his chest bubbling up with excitement. 

Guess my nose is never wrong about these sorts of things.

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Beginnings

“What kind of coffee shop only opens at night?”

Leon had kept his word, returning some time during the week after his work shift. However, Claire left you a postcard, delivered through him, with “I.O.U.” written at the back in an inky marker.

“My kind,” you quipped back, clearing out some of the cups and glasses, and wiping down the tables used by the previous customers who had left.

He shifted awkwardly between his feet, realizing the faux pas he had made. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense.” 

You looked up at him from the cloth rag on the table and smiled. “None taken, you’re just saying what comes to mind.”

“I like that,” you added for good measure.

Biting his bottom lip, his cheeks turned pink as he peered around the room before meeting your gaze again. “I-I… I guess I just wanted to know why?”

“Hah, she’s not interested in business! She’s rich!” a low bellow erupted from a ponytailed man sitting at the corner in an armchair. He laughed at his own joke, adjusting his spectacles along his nose bridge before guzzling down a thick, dark, syrupy brew from his cup. Then, he went back to reading his newspaper as if he had not uttered anything at all.

“Rude,” Leon whispered under his breath.

You chuckled as you gestured towards the older man. “That’s Ben, one of the customers I cater to. Enjoys coming here after dark. Says it helps him to think straight.”

“You see, I wanted to open a place where everyone could feel welcome,” you continued. “Even if it’s just the outsiders.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Ben called out again, though not once taking his eyes off the tiny print of the paper.

You smirked at his response. “Some people are night owls. So why not have a space for them too?”

Leon cocked his head to the side, staring at you contemplatively for a moment before replying, “That’s really nice of you.”

You looked away, unsure of how to respond. From the beginning, you had always accepted your role willingly, never giving it a second thought, so praise always came as a surprise.

“Mmm, why don’t you go make yourself at home, and I’ll be right with you?” you finally decided as an answer. 

Evasive, but polite—perfect for such a situation.

He did as you asked, heading over to the counter seat, and seeing you work your magic on his drink. It seemed like he had taken a note out of Claire’s book, inviting a little more spontaneity this time into his order. He wanted something warm yet cool, but not too sweet.

“It’s not too much of a hassle, is it?” he wondered out loud anxiously.

You huffed out a small laugh, saying, “It’s fine, relax.” 

As you served up the concoction before him, his gaze trailed across the amber swirls of the liquid, glinting under the pendant lights. They came to rest on the conical-shaped egg white foam you had whipped up on top.

“Gee, I feel like a kid in a candy shop,” he muttered. Taking a whiff of the mixture and upon finding it agreeable to his senses, he imbibed the rest of it.

“How do you—” he paused to recollect his thoughts before continuing, “How do you make such amazing drinks?” 

Twirling the glass in his hand, he examined it, seemingly trying to figure out its ingredients. “It’s almost as if you read my mind.”

“I just listen to what people need,” you mentioned nonchalantly, playing down the compliment. Jerking your thumb towards the glass, you added, “I call it Midsummer’s Nightcap, by the way.”

“I’ll definitely remember that.” 

He handed you the glass and you immediately followed up with a “Can I get you anything else?” It had been ingrained in you from day one to do so.

His face scrunched up slightly as he furrowed his brows. “I don’t know, hmm…”

“Something simpler?” you offered. ��A glass of water?”

At this, he flashed a toothy grin. “There you go again. Reading minds.”

You scoffed good-humoredly, shaking your head as you poured him water over crushed ice with a slice of grapefruit and lime at the end. “So how’s your first week at work been?”

An involuntary groan rumbled from his chest, though he tried to suppress it.

“Not great?” you asked sympathetically.

“No, it’s good,” he began, “it’s more than I could’ve asked for, but…”

You held back, giving him the time and space to process his emotions. He fiddled nervously with the glass, pressing his fingers into it and leaving temporary imprints on the condensation.

“I don’t wanna fuck things up, you know?” he sighed. “I did well at the academy, but this feels like a totally different ball game.”

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” you observed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, throwing his hands in the air. “I left everything behind for this job. My family, my hometown, my friends, my—” 

All of a sudden, he stopped in his tracks abruptly, as though something had clicked and he instantly regretted what he had just said. “I’m sorry for dumping this all on you…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You reached over, holding his hand gently as you gave it a little squeeze. His pupils widened and his breath hitched at your touch, but similar to the previous time, he did not pull away.

“You’re afraid of failing,” you murmured, already busying yourself with cooking up another beverage to soothe his nerves. “Maybe you’ve never failed before, and it scares you.”

He remained silent, watching you from across the counter with a grim expression on his face.

It was only after you offered him the warm, steaming cup that he spoke, “You ever get that feeling where you’ve waited for this moment your entire life, and when it comes to it, you’re paralyzed?”

A rueful smile crept onto your lips. “When I set up this shop, yeah.”

Your answer stunned him initially before he started laughing, and you joined in.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, he probed further, “And how has it been for you?”

“It has its ups and downs, but you’ll survive.”

Your eyes met his. “Leon, it’s okay to fail.”

He averted his gaze in embarrassment. “That’s not what she—my girl—uh, my ex would’ve said.”

“Sometimes, people say things because they’re hurt,” you sighed. “I guess she didn’t want to lose you?”

Shaking his head, he rubbed his face wearily as he exhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, she didn’t want me to move so far away.”

Then, he found the courage to look you in the eye again. “I thought she’d be the one. I… I’m an idiot,” he surmised self-deprecatingly.

“You felt deeply for her,” you pointed out. “It doesn’t make it any less real just because it didn’t go the way you expected.”

While he mulled it over, you motioned to his forgotten drink and he obliged, knocking it back as if it were a liquor shot. “Time,” you proffered. ”Everything takes time.”

His jaw slackened as he took a moment to savor the warmth and taste, but once that passed, he had yet another curveball to throw at you. “What if I’m not cut out for this job?”

“If it comes to that, you could either keep going until you are, or find a new path,” you countered, placing your hands on your hips. “Don’t limit yourself.”

“Anyway, I have a hunch you’ll do just fine,” you reassured him. “If you don't believe me, then ask your supervisor.”

“Wait, you know Lieutenant Branagh?”

You did not respond to his question, instead sneaking in a wink and a smile as you removed the cup and saucer from his table. That appeared to distract him as he dropped the subject and latched on to a new one. 

“My grandma used to make this for me,” he said, indicating at the cup you were holding. “She had a name for it. Dreamsleep… I think?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I remind you of her?” you teased as you placed the items in the sink with the other dirty dishes.

“God, oh no, I’m sorry!” he coughed out, his face contorting into an expression of shock and horror upon realizing what he had implied. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I’m joking, Leon,” you giggled as he rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief.

But when he took a peek at his watch, he pushed himself away from the counter. “I must’ve lost track of the time, um, I should get going.”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he glanced bashfully in your direction. “Thank you… for tonight.”

You waved it off. “Don’t mention it.”

However, when you opened your mouth to speak again, he shushed you with his finger and a fiery look of determination in his eyes. “And no, this time I’m paying.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[hoodieseasoned]

posting this again for my own peace of mind bc the previous time it fucked up the image placement and wouldn't let me edit it yay! *is shaking from annoyance *

if it looks bad now I'm giving up

it's the ocean queen !! love her, loved drawing this, my friend let me borrow her copics and they were pretty cool (she gave me some marker paper too which was pretty cool of her but the paper itself was not so cool,, weird blending stuff)

sorry the photo is so bad, i took it late in the evening so not much natural light

reference from grimilde malatesta who is also on instagram as @/siluna.portraits

didn't have a proper wip pic either bc i forgot but hey at least there is this one

image descriptions below (please god don't break the read more this time okay ? i don't want my post to be absolutely way too long to scroll past urgh)

[1st ID: A drawing of Ldshadowlady in her Empires SMP season 1 axolotl skin. She is standing, facing the viewer, with her gaze looking towards something to the right. Her hair is bright pink and curly, floating freely around her, and she is wearing a golden crown and some pearls on her head. Her skin is cyan and scale-y, and she has on a dress with green and blue ruffles on top, a dark blue corset with white markings and a long wavy blue skirt inspired by ocean waves. Her eyes and nose are fish-like. In her hands, held up to her chest is a seashell directly referenced from the mermaid's pendant necklace from Stardew Valley. The background is a pale purple color. End of 1st ID.]

[2nd ID: a photograph from Grimilde Malatesta. It depicts a pale woman from the waist up, dressed in an off-white and pink gown with flowy long sleeves. Her red, curly hair falls just below her shoulders. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are lifted in a cradle against her chest, though they are empty. The background is a void of black. End of 2nd ID.]

[3rd ID: A work-in-progress picture of the Ldshadowlady art. Cut just so that she can be seen from the chest up. At this point the drawing is nearly finished, only missing some defining details on her face, crown and hair, as well as the seashell, which is yet to be drawn. End of 3rd ID.]

[plutobutartsy]

my version of lasko's listener!! :D

contrary to her looks, she is actually quite a strict teacher while lecturing but it balances out since she's big on positive reinforcement and patiently explaining things.

ID and taglist under the cut as always! ^-^

[ID:

Image 1:

A stylized, full body drawing of Lasko's Listener from the front. She is portrayed as a fat black woman of average height. Her curly blonde hair is worn in a high puff on top oh her head with two braided strands that each end in two light blue beads framing her face. The wide purple head band she is wearing covers the roots of her hair, only leaving the layed edges on her forehead visible. She is wearing a white tube top that exposes part of her stomach and a tight beige maxi skirt with a slit that partly shows her left leg. A light blue cardigan hangs off her shoulders and she is barefoot in her dark brown sandals. Additionally, she has stretch marks around her chest and the bottom of her stomach.

Around her neck she is wearing two rows of golden pearls, the lower of which holds a purple gem pendant, as well as a long necklace that holds a golden, down turned crescent moon pendant. Both of her ears are adorned by a golden stud earring that is connected to a golden ear cuff.

She is standing with her left hand clasped around the strap of the grey bag hanging off her shoulder and with her right hand hanging slack at her side. Her round face is pulled into an embarrassed smile with her plump lips curled up at the sides, her blonde eyebrows slightly furrowed and her cheeks and nose flushed.

She is placed in front of a white rectangle with thick, light blue borders around it.

Image 2:

A simplified doodle of Lasko's Listener showing a sheet of paper to a person that is labelled as "random student" and has no notable characteristics. The paper is covered in writing and has a golden star in the top right corner. The listener's eyes are scrunched shut in delight as she is smiling brightly while the student looks simply embarrassed. The listener is saying, "your essay was really good so i decided to give you a golden star!" In their head, the student thinks, "i'm 26..."

/End ID]

taglist: @oceanicwhitetipshark @febreze-bottle-without-febreze @teaseat @swanconcerto @beemybella @soup-scope @shawslut (send an ask or dm to be added or removed <3)

[theloveinc]

dabi x reader - you can't tell me this man doesn't know how to pick out jewelry, for himself or you.

(warning - no specific holiday mentioned, gn except there's a necklace <3)

happy holidays!

-

It’s the end of the night. The soft glow of the holiday lights a comfort as you wind down from your day of calling friends and loved ones, drying your mouth with greetings and kisses that won’t be matched for another full year’s time.

Decorations adorn your apartment, waiting to be torn down sometime after New Years once you recover from your holiday bliss, the expected hangover that comes with it, and all your friends get up off your couch.

Dabi had… surprisingly… joined your celebrations this year. Last year, though you were familiar with him in ways just the same, you suppose you hadn’t actually known him well enough for him to willingly stand witness to the intimacy of your friendly gatherings. Though he hardly participated in the festivities even now—preferring to hover in the kitchen over the rising bread rolls and honey whilst others decorated cupcakes and shared food—he stood beside you like a good boyfriend when it was required of him, bowed his head for any introductions, and pinched out a smile when people asked what you got each other as gifts.

Which, mutually, was nothing.

(In all honesty, you considered your gift to him the simple fact that you allowed him to stay at your apartment more often than not… and simultaneously, weren’t expecting anything from him in return. Besides, he had hardly brought up the holiday season except for a handful of times, once almost embarrassedly, if not just cold, to confirm that he wasn’t going to be kicked out from your dwelling the second someone “civilized”—your words, out of his mouth—showed up.

(The only other time it came up was when he came home with a shoplifted bag of white chocolate peppermint kisses and started throwing them at you from across the living room when you scolded him about potentially being caught.))

And you didn’t mind.

For as long as you had known him, in sleeping together, and in dating—it was never about the material. Your heart was already full, by his doing (for a partial criminal, he was rather quite giving) and most others: your home was furnished and comfortable, your friends close and happy, and even the high quality pillows you had been wanting for ages (to which even Dabi agreed you needed new ones,) were so much of an aside that you hadn’t even bothered to ask anyone for anything.

It’s only now as the evening fades that he approaches—his face like a petulant cat waiting to be stroked, lips upturned under those glazed, knowing eyes—holding out a box you do not recognize.

No bigger than your fist, He doesn’t discard it gently in your lap. Instead, he tosses it to you nonchalantly, without concern for what’s underneath the terrible wrapping paper he made of yesterday’s newspaper, no obvious interest in your reaction.

Regardless, he lingers. First, you think to acknowledge your questioning look with a sneer. Then, when his lip is curled but he doesn’t move, you realize, to watch you unwrap the thing.

You roll your eyes, but give him what he wants… and under the newspaper find a soft velvet box. Not the right size for him to be offering you a ring, but instead the most beautiful pendant necklace: delicately chained and well-polished, it’s far superior (and more expensive) than what you would’ve assumed is his taste.

“Touya,” you say, suddenly shy with surprise as you glance up. “It’s lovely.”

He seems to balk at a response, barely shrugging when you catch his eye, as if you weren't expected to react at all.

“It’s nothing, really.”

You remove it from the box, careful not to pull too hard or potentially mar the gem, and stand to offer Dabi your neck though find that he’s already reaching in, eyes lowered, to help clasp the chain.

“Nothing? You can't say that. How'd you even pick something so...?"

His fingers are cold against the skin of your nape, though you find he’s careful not to snag any loose hairs that linger freely. He manages the hook in barely one try.

“So pretty?" he says, his voice is dry as ever as he presses you to turn and face him. "I had a feeling it might suit you. Think I might've been right, huh?"

And when you lead him to the mirror to inspect, you find that you happen to think so, too.

[labselkie]

i started this for a prompt piece but then it exploded,, i hope it not being a part of the october event doesn’t make it flop tho

as i’ve said at least a hundred times before,, i like to imagine more time passes between wandavis episodes, mainly just cuz i like to imagine them together. but! the first two episodes run pretty much the same! and here comes episode 3, that’s where things start stretching out more lol

“Annamarie…” A sly voice began to rouse the mutant from her sleep. “Aves? Oh, that’s adorable.”

Marie was sprawled out on her stomach, half tucked in under a thick lavender and white quilt. Sunlight streamed in through thin tan curtains, and as Marie opened her eyes, one thing stood out the most. Color. She was no longer stuck within the dim confines of Wanda’s first little show. She was first met with the sight of blue, her own wings spread out above her.

This wasn’t her room, this wasn’t even her house. Light walls were lined with scarlet flower wallpaper and dark wood furniture sets. Marie let out a small sound, a strained little sigh as she stretched her arms above her like a cat. Her wings flap a few times, and she finally opens her eyes more. A woman in a sweet patterned pencil skirt and a dark sweater stands beside her bed; she held another top, a powder blue shirt with long bishop style sleeves and a darker blue deep cut vest. The shirt had two distinct cuts in the back, and she seemed to be measuring out similar cuts to make in the vest.

“Miss Agnes..?” Marie’s tired voice came out smaller than usual. She shifts to push herself up, moving her wings to let them flop to the side as she turns to face the odd woman.

“Miss Aves!” Agnes exclaimed, holding the outfit a bit closer. Her hair is unusually straight, and it seemed to have grown a few inches overnight. A familiar pendant glistens in the dawn sunlight. She’s by a tall dresser, the same color as the bed frame and the rest of the decor, and there’s a piece of paper just on top. “You’re a heavier sleeper than I thought. I figured you’d be up at crack of dawn, crowing like a rooster!” She puts the outfit’s hanger on a drawer’s handle as Marie takes a moment to sit up more.

The mutant feels like a mess, she moves to run a hand through her hair, but she doesn’t find it as unruly as usual, rather, it’s perfectly curled. If there was one thing the Hex was good for, it’d be keeping everyone picture perfect. Marie sits up fully, stretching her wings across the headboard as she leans on a few pillows. “I’m not a chicken..” She sighs, eyes rising to the off white, textured ceiling.

“Mhm, but I’m sure I could get you to act like one,” Agnes snickers before turning back to the outfit. She picks up a dainty silver pair of scissors from the top of the dresser, the sort you’d see with birds sculpted into the handles. She crouches, and in two swift sweeps, she’s able to slice two perfect holes into the upper back of the indigo vest. She rises and sets the silver scissors down, “And don’t forget, it’s Agatha.”

Marie’s wings settle down, and she lowers her gaze to the flowers sewn into the quilt. Everything was black and white yesterday, she was invited to Agnes’s house for a birdwatching brunch. There was no club, there was no husband, there was just Agnes and her amulet and a suspicious cup of tea. Then everything changed, she was finally back in control of her life, no longer fully stuck in the restraints of Wanda’s spell. They talked a bit, it took Marie quite a while to fully understand her situation, but she was able to grasp the concept now.

“Agatha, right..” Marie mumbles as she cautiously rises from the bed. She’s in quite the cute outfit, a little blue nightgown that dips just low enough on her back to fit her wings. She had no clue where she got it, but it was nice.

“You passed out after I cast that counter-spell, I didn’t want to just carry you passed out across the street.. So, you know! You can thank me later.” Agatha was oddly cheery, she always got too invested into playing her part. Marie steps beside her, glancing from the altered outfit to the paper on the dresser. It was thicker parchment, with small text above a stamp on the bottom right. It was an official record, either from Westview or Marie’s past. She reaches out for it, but Agatha slides it away and leans against the dresser to block it. The witch smiles, the expression dripping with condescension.

“If you know so much about magic, then why is everything in color now?” Marie asks, trying to distract herself from the strange paper. She plucks the hanger up and turns to the bed, keeping her wings low.

“Redhead down the road got bored of the 60s,” Agatha begins, opening one of the drawers, “We’re just along for the ride.” She pulls out a long skirt, one that starts out as the same color as the shirt but layers into a much deeper blue. Marie turns back, watching as Agatha steps forward to drape the skirt beside the tops on the bed.

“Now, since you’re quite the curious young lady: do you know why I broke you out?” The witch adds, standing just beside Marie.

“Could you tell I was a mutant?”

“No, bird brain!” Agatha chuckles, stepping back, “Just to see if I could.” Marie glances over her shouler, and Agatha gives her a flourishing spin.

The mutant huffs, looking back to the clothes. Agatha had said something like that, but their conversation was brief, and Marie was out like a light.

“Those are for you, by the way,” The witch states simply, crossing her arms, “You can go over to whatever house you were at to grab your things later. Don’t worry about clothes, Wanda has us both covered.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Marie was quite defensive, her feathers bristled and her shoulders tense. Agatha gave an exaggerated pout, stepping back closer with her hand just over one of Marie’s wings.

“Lighten up, honey!” She pats just where Marie’s wing meets the shoulder blade, fingers splaying through soft downy feathers. “You can just leave, you know- Dive right back into that picturesque life Wanda shoved on you, forget who I am…” Her voice lowers into a singsong drawl, and she leans forward just beside the mutant’s head. Marie’s brows knit together, and one of her hands nervously fidgeted with the bottom of her nightgown.

“But, it’s up to you! You’re allowed to leave and have that pretty little mind of yours locked away.” Agatha pulls back, turning to the door. “I’ll let you choose.”

The witch steps back, leaving a flustered, worried mutant in her wake. Agatha liked having someone to play with, even if that someone was too nervous to bite back. But the bird was cute, to her at least, and she stood out from the very beginning.

•

Marie peeked out of the room about fifteen minutes later. Fitting her wings through both tops took her some time, but she was able to make it work. The vest and bottom of her skirt matched beautifully with her wings, and somehow it was all tailored just for her.

Agatha just entered from the back door, holding a little wicker basket full of small bundles of soft purple and periwinkle azaleas. She’s looking down at them, adjusting a few of the smaller flowers as she walks through the house.

Marie takes a small step forward, adjusting the front of her vest before leaving the bedroom.

“Agatha,” She tries to sound brave, speaking a touch louder and straightening her stance. “I-“

The witch lightens up, turning and cutting off Marie almost instantly. “Anna!” Marie nearly blushes at the use of another nickname, “Look at you! It fits perfectly, I’ll give Wanda that.” Agatha reaches out her free hand to adjust one side of the vest’s collar.

Marie butts back into the conversation, leaning away from Agatha’s hand, “I’ll stay.”

Agatha falters, she draws her hand back and glances back up to Marie’s face. Sharp blue eyes meet soft yellow, and for just a moment, comfortable silence lingers between them. “Huh?” She quickly shakes the shock off, clearly confused as to why Marie would choose that. But in a moment, she’s back to grinning and laughing. “That makes this easier for both of us!”

It was odd, why would anyone agree to stay with a witch as her errand girl? Agatha never had a coven, no one by her side for the past two centuries. For the first time, someone chose to be on her side. She plucks a small blueish flower from her basket and places it right above Marie’s wing-ear. She pats Marie’s cheek before softening her smile and turning to go.

“C’mon, Anna, you won’t believe what I heard about our married friend down the road.” Agatha was giddy, for good reason, but she could play it off as excitement for a familiar. Maybe she could keep this one, twist her to fit her plans, surely she wouldn’t mind if she was replaced by Wanda either, right? She was agreeable, almost docile, but Agatha still felt for her; she saw an odd spark in Marie, something she hadn’t seen for centuries.

They both hoped this would last.

[cinnaminyoons]

KISS OR KILL !!

!!   pjm x m!reader

!!   wc | 4.0k

!!   tags | murder, attempted murder, guns, poison, heavily suggestive

[ event masterlist ]

assassins after the same target

the ex’s ex

“close the door.”

“love, for you, is terrifying. it’s like a religion. no one will ever want to sleep with you.”

“tell me again how you’ll love me.”

a beautiful man raises names to his face the same way he lifts jewels and gold to his ears. something simple, he hums, setting down a silver earring with a teardrop-shaped pearl. the hotel's bathroom mirror blinks back at him under cold white lights, lovely and sweet-faced with pale hair and pink lips.

he leans in, turning a card of diamond studs this way and that. he purses his lips. he nods, slipping them on. a silver chain cuffs his earlobe to the shell of his ear, and he giggles softly to himself as he moves on to the other ear. diamonds and silver look good with his hair.

he opens a turquoise box, brushing his fingers gently over its smooth surface. nestled amongst white tissue paper and foam are two statement bulgari pieces ��� because he, whoever he chooses to be, deserves nothing less. he tucks the wave-motif choker around his neck, close against his swan-like throat, and he places the second beneath it. he fingers the round pendant, settling it below his collarbones, and tugs the collar of his shirt down to show it off.

the glittering diamonds and metals hang heavier than their material weight, but he holds his head high, his shoulders set straight and regal. he glances over his figure, slender waist highlighted by high-waisted trousers, and he touches up his makeup once more before slipping a black cross-body bag on his hip. in it, he carries all his necessities – pocket mirror, pack of tissues, his prettiest shade of lipstick, and the night's greatest finish.

he chooses a new identity as he wafts down the steps to the foyer, outside of which waits his sleek black ride. he meets his chauffeur's gaze as he slides inside.

park jimin. he has never heard a prettier name.

—

he's been here before. he's been under this very chandelier, sitting across from someone he would have done anything for, before.

but that was aeons ago. that was before jimin's love was used like a tool in a ploy beyond him, doing whatever was asked of him like a good pup. he put aside all of himself, shredding everything that he was, to chase affection and attention that he needed like air.

once, he knew nothing of pain. now it is all that survives.

he smiles. he laughs. he flutters his lashes and plays up the desperation, the desire, to have adoration on him once more. he's venus, he's sundew, he's the cobra lily rearing its head. touching fingers and brief glances ending in smiles – his meal falls into his hands, lapping up his sweetness.

"crab-stuffed filet mignon and duck confit."

jimin lifts his eyes. he knows intimately what beauty is, and the waiter is it. he knows what danger is, and the waiter is it.

the waiter smiles, charming and handsome, and places the plates down in front of them. he lifts his gaze to jimin's and he stills, his smile bleeding away.

predators know when they are challenged.

linking his fingers on the white tablecloth, jimin hums and leans in, inspecting the dishes with great interest. "looks wonderful. thank you."

the waiter recomposes himself, folding an arm neatly in front of him. he bows his head and takes his leave, each step oozing the same flavour of flawless imitation as jimin's. jimin eyes his target, tearing into the silky duck confit with greasy fingers, even in this ritzy restaurant. his gaze flickers around the large room, taking in the sheer drapes and romantic gold highlights falling across its patrons.

he floats his fingers over a selection of knives and chooses one. he slides his thumb over the serrated edge as he casts his gaze over the room for one set of teeth, all too perfect.

he's looking at him when jimin finds him. he refills a couple's wine glasses, and the sheen of the glossy red liquid seems thicker than usual in his capable hands. he smiles, eyes dark and hollow, and whisks the bottle away with an elegant flair.

duck legs tumble to the floor from loosening fingers. a thump of a body, a ravishing jerking terror. foam at the corners of the mouth, screams falling from too many lips.

jimin stands quietly. the dazzling waiter, all magnificent smiles and gentle words, stares back; his lip curls with satisfaction, and he vanishes behind the crowds as they gather anxiously around the twitching body.

simmering fury grows to a forest fire as jimin runs his fingers over his bag and the pretty steel within. he almost forgets his face – a wavering cry, a covered mouth, a stricken expression as he stumbles away.

park jimin races into the alleyway behind the restaurant and slams the waiter into the brick wall, pressing the cold tip of his pistol into his temple.

the man laughs, breathless and knee-weakening, and grabs jimin's hips, tugging him into his warm body.

"beautiful, wasn't it?" he breathes, eyes glittering even as jimin presses his forearm harder into his throat.

"poison is a coward's game," he hisses, and their breath mingles in the cooling evening air.

"but you can't deny its artistry," he purrs, eyes half-lidded and inviting. "guns are ugly things. so impersonal. a twitch of the finger, a death at your hands. but poison, as you call it? there is an intimacy to creating a single dose, so perfectly measured for weight, for tolerance, for size. too much and it is an unsightly end – lots of guts and stomach acid and retching. too little and all you get is a funny expression. no fun at all."

"you took what's mine." anger flares in his belly. "you ruined it! ruined me!"

"yours? oh, i'm so sorry." you smile. jimin's breath hitches. you lean in slowly, eyes flickering over his features. "i'll help you, gorgeous, as penance. i promise that i didn't know anyone else with a vendetta tonight, and i'm not one to enjoy stealing the spotlight. i'll be yours – if you'll have me."

jimin trails the barrel of his pistol down the side of your face, slipping into the dip beneath your jaw. you tilt your head with a hum and your grip tightens.

"and why would i let you anywhere near me?" he whispers, placing his finger on the trigger.

"because you and i would make a beautiful team. your skills, my expertise – our combined looks." you chuckle as jimin scoffs. "i love the look in your eyes. keep prodding me with that thing and i might do something awfully indecent, pretty boy."

jimin's eyes flicker over your features, sizing you up. you smile. he lowers the gun, but his arm remains hard against your neck.

"so," you say, unbothered by the discomfort against your adam's apple. "what was your plan? blowing brains out in a full restaurant is a bold move."

"i'm very good at getting people into my bedroom," he says nonchalantly. his eyes narrow. "and it was going perfectly – until you barged in and tore it all to pieces. i should kill you for your insolence."

you tilt your head. your gaze burns like hellfire, but somehow, he can't help but lean into it, drawing his fingers through the flames.

"what are you?" you ask, innocently enough. "if we are to work together – if i am to work for you – it would be... beneficial to know your speciality."

he looks you up and down. he answers finally, "i'm a hired gun. i have to survive in this economy somehow, and there's always a niche to be filled regarding sudden death and disappearance."

he wonders briefly why he's still speaking to you. your brains should be splattered on the bricks, but he can't help but open his mouth when you look at him like a lover might.

he tilts his head up. "and you?"

"same general idea," you reply pleasantly. "but this was personal. for you, as well. am i correct?"

"you could say that." he pauses, a calculating frigidity in his gaze. "what would you do for me, as 'penance'?"

"whatever you wish. i can take jobs for you – the ones you aren't so keen on. you will get the majority of the payment: sixty-forty."

"eighty-twenty," he shoots back. you nod with that smile, and his heart throbs. "so, what – you're my lapdog? for how long would this arrangement last?"

"that's up to you, of course. three months?"

"six."

"deal." your gaze flickers down to his lips. "that's a lovely colour on you. complements your eyes."

he clicks his tongue. if he hadn't blown his last paycheck on this chase halfway around the world, you'd have a bullet in your skull three times over by now. but his wallet wasn't bottomless, and his name was nothing without his ex's – especially if he was starting with a clean slate as park jimin.

he shoves you away. you straighten your tie and smooth down your black vest. he watches like a hawk. "try anything funny and you won't get three steps."

you spread your hands in a gesture of peace. "how could i betray a face like yours? i'd sooner cut off my shooting arm."

he slips his gun into his bag, bucking the flap tight. he jerks his head towards the end of the alley where his ride waits. "get in, killer. i've got something in mind for you."

—

over the next month, jimin learns you like the backs of his eyelids. you are quick. you are efficient. and you are deadly silent.

"you look good in red."

he whips around – his tense shoulders drop when he notices you, sprawled lazily on his couch with his pistol in your loose grip. he rolls his eyes and closes the fridge door, popping open a bottle of wine. "keep sitting in the dark like that and you'll ruin your eyes. when did you arrive?"

"a couple hours ago," you say. he feels your gaze boring into the back of his head as he turns to find himself a glass. "your pay's in your room. i took the liberty of taking my share – i hope you don't mind."

he sighs and lifts the glass to his lips. "what are you doing here, killer? i gave you three contracts. even for you, that's at least two weeks' worth."

"i wanted to be with you again, shrike. is that such a crime?" you place your hand around the back of his neck, and he doesn't flinch, even if he can barely feel your presence. you're like a ghost – a cold spot, a radiator that never works. he turns, leaning back against the marble counter, and crosses his arms.

"you should've enjoyed your time in japan," he sighs. "it's early spring. the cherry blossoms should be blooming."

you brush cold fingers against his cheek, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "no blossom could rival the sight of you." you tilt your head like a puppy, and jimin purses his lips. you try to wriggle your way back into his good graces. "i cleaned your armoury. your little pistol is very cute."

with another sigh, he prods you aside and places his empty glass by the sink. "it fits well in my hand. look, there's a two-man job i've accepted, and it's a black-tie event. do you have a suit that fits?"

you hum softly, a light frown creasing your brow. "i have... parts. i don't have a jacket with silk lapels anymore – i couldn't save it from the bastard's knives. when is this event?"

"two days from now. bit of a rush, i admit, but my contact doesn't trust anyone else to get it done."

"i'll be ready by this time tomorrow, little shrike."

—

you take jimin's hand, helping him from the sleek black car. "stunning as always, my dear."

he rolls his eyes. "you've said that a thousand times."

"doesn't make it any less true." you fall in line behind him, quietening as jimin offers two white envelopes to the man at the bright mansion's door. after opening them and scanning their contents, he nods, stepping aside. "welcome, messrs park. mrs priestly is honoured to have you."

the foyer is as grand as the façade, with a huge diamond chandelier between two curving, seductive marble staircases. jimin navigates the cliques of the rich with ease, a permanently polite smile engraved over his features.

"messrs?" you murmur in his ear with a touch of humour. "you should've told me we were married. i would've matched my cufflinks to your necklaces."

"don't be fucking ridiculous," he says peacefully. "we're brothers. long-lost, estranged, together for dad's funeral, whatever you like. it shouldn't matter."

"shouldn't matter – jimin, i'm hurt. are we not here to work together?"

he plucks a bubbling glass of champagne from a passing busser's tray. "i do the seducing. you do the ending. do you have it?"

"no."

his head whips sharply towards you.

you tut. "i had a colleague drop it off for me. every doorway in this mansion is fitted with a metal detector. after we've said our greetings and pleasantries, i'll retrieve it. such a shame, though – a man like this should see his end coming. he deserves it."

"you say that about every mark."

"this one more than usual," you amend. you pluck the flute out of his hand before he can take another sip and his mouth opens to protest. "clear heads wield the steadiest swords, jimin."

he watches you vanish into the crowds with crossed arms, a put-off pout pursing his lips. he turns away, fingers fluttering over his diamond necklaces.

clear heads... yes. it is better if you are not around to distract him with your gracious smile and well-fitted suit.

two hours later, jimin giggles at a foreign dignitary's terrible jokes. they aren't terrible like yours are, where an uncontrollable smirk spreads on his lips and he shakes his head in disbelief – they're terrible in terms of taste.

he does not want to hear another joke about women anytime soon. he can't help but feel rather relieved that no one else will have to force smiles around the mark.

out of the corner of his eye, a shadow flashes by. showtime.

jimin plays up the charm, the sly bitten smiles and rosy bedroom eyes taking the mark to bed. there's play, there's touching, and the mark takes off his shirt.

jimin pretends that he likes what he sees, but the skin's too clean, too purely aesthetic. while their target was generically attractive, a californian blond-and-blue-eyes, he was too... made up. whitened teeth, rigorous diets, a thousand-and-ten beautification products and almost-invisible needle scars. jimin doubts he could leap a fence without worrying about breaking a perfectly-manicured nail – that is, if he can make it over in the first place.

"close the door," jimin whispers, pressing his lips to the place beneath his ear. he curls his fingers in dirty-blond locks, almost petting them. "wouldn't want anyone seeing what i'll do to you."

he smiles with excitement gleaming in his eyes and rushes to do so, his tie hanging loose around his neck. it's obvious he's rather green, not yet completely grown into his pretty american beauty – or, at least, he's green with men. 

"nobody saw us come in here, right?" the mark asks, moving over jimin's lap.

jimin smiles, empty and wrong. "no one saw."

his brain splatters the floor.

jimin turns his face away in distaste, hot blood dotting his cheek. he pushes the body off before it dirties his clothes. it thumps to the bed, its face lax, and the seeping red dyes its blond hair.

"you couldn't have waited until i was out of the splash zone?" he complains, standing and fixing his clothes. "do you at least have something i can clean myself up with?"

you pluck the dead mark's jacket from its spot over a chair and tug out the white pocket square. you offer it with a smile.

he gazes at you for a long moment, unimpressed. he takes it with a roll of his eyes, stepping past you. "great. let's go – the balcony's open."

"lead the way, my dove."

—

the slow grind of steel on steel flakes in the warm air. jimin's brow furrows and he buries his face in his pillow, sliding his arms beneath it. he cracks an eye open – sitting on the side of the bed in nothing but a pair of briefs is an overly-familiar figure, muscle shifting under skin with each drag of steel.

"god," jimin drawls, "do you have to do this here?"

the grinding stops.

"yes."

the grinding begins again.

jimin huffs and grabs the pillow next to him. the scent of your shampoo is dangerously relaxing, and he purses his lips.

he chucks the pillow at your head. it thumps onto the floor, and you glance over your bare shoulder with a smirk as you lean down to grab it and toss it back onto the bed.

"someone's in a sour mood."

"because you're sharpening a knife in my bedroom when i'm trying to sleep," he grouches, sitting up with a wince. he doesn't think your relationship is very professional anymore – not when he falls into bed with you every other night. "you couldn't have left it until tomorrow?"

"tomorrow is our six months," you reply, turning the knife over in your grasp. you twirl it over your knuckles like a pen. "i can't sleep."

jimin sighs and shuffles closer, pressing his cheek to your shoulder blade. the warmth hums – not like a neon sign, but like a bonfire. "most men would be awfully sleepy after a night with me, killer."

your chest echoes with a chuckle. "maybe you're not as good as you think you are."

in an instant, your hand is empty, and the blade presses below your voice box. he angles the tip into it with a tilt of his head, eyes wide.

"i almost killed you," he whispers wondrously. he lowers the blade, bringing it closer to his face, and squints at it, tossing it in his palm. "it feels... invisible."

"you weren't supposed to see it yet," you say worriedly as a trickle of blood runs down your throat. "it's not finished."

jimin twists away from you, falling back onto the pillows with a soft thump and a giggle as you grasp at air. "i want to see this. did you make this for me, killer? sentimental, much?"

"give it back."

"no."

"give it."

jimin grins and rolls onto his side as you reach over him, grabbing your shoulder to yank you down over him. he's surprisingly strong for one so slight, but neither of you put much effort into it. jimin flips the blade over, letting the silky pattern of watered steel catch the light, dazzling as jewels. it sparks in his eyes, turning his irises into liquid gold for half a moment. he drops the blade with his wrist and you remember how to breathe again.

he glances up at you from the corner of his eye. "is that real pink diamond in the handle?"

you make an offended noise from the back of your throat. "who do you think i am? of course it's real."

with a soft hum, jimin snaps the blade shut, folding it neatly into an ebony handle. he shifts onto his back and swipes his front knuckle over the front of your throat. blood beads again along the same trail and jimin pouts.

"i didn't mean to do that," he sulks.

"i rather liked it," you murmur, and jimin's plush lips part. your gaze snaps down to them instinctively, and they curve up into a tiny smirk. "a sort of christening. may you kill many deserving bastards with it."

jimin presses the soft, warm pad of his thumb against your lips. "you love me, don't you?" he nearly crows, a smug glow in his eyes. "you're adorable. you forget what this is, killer."

"a transaction," you reply, still draped over him, hovering inches from his face by the strength of your arms. "just that i'm not the only one paying anymore."

his smile vanishes. he sits up, his eyes cooled to volcanic rock. "no."

"no?" you tilt your head, following him with a heavy gaze as he swings his bare legs out of bed and crosses the room. "well, i certainly wasn't the one dragging someone else into bed with him."

"shut up," he snaps, shrugging on the nearest shirt. it's crumpled, and he folds down the collar in an effort to neaten it. it doesn't do much. it's not his size, either, hanging from his arms and exposing the intoxicating curve of his neck and shoulders. "i'm not in love with you."

"really, jimin?" you rest against the headboard, tucking a knee towards your chest with a sigh. "all these tiny trinket gifts: watches, bracelets, rings with your initials on them. admit it. you're trying to court me, little shrike," you tease.

faster than you can track, jimin flings the switchblade towards you. you roll your head to the right two seconds too late, half a mockery and half a sweet head-tilt, and reach over your shoulder to tug the blade from the wall. "you dropped this."

"you didn't try," he nearly snarls.

"why would i? we all die eventually, and i'd rather look my ravishing killer in the eye than waste time trying to avoid it."

"if i was in love, it certainly wouldn't be with you," he sniffs, checking his nails in a curled hand. "you'd be a terrible person to do it with."

"'do it'? jimin, dear, love isn't so simple. it's not a task, nor is it a job." the ruffle of sheets. gentle hands around his waist, warm bare chest against his back – warm bare everything. you bare everything to him, and he's certain that you'd split open your ribs to give him your heart if you could. you open your hand, the switchblade laid open across it. "you may use it to kill me, if you like. i've heard i can be rather difficult at times."

he picks it up with three dainty fingers, giving it a spin. he clicks it shut. "you would let me kill you... because you're annoying me?"

in response, you only smile and squeeze his hip, turning away to find your clothes. "how many lovers of yours can say the same?"

he purses his lips. "lovers? is that what we are?"

"well," you tug your shirt over your head, "i'd like to think so."

"you're obsessed with this... idea of us," jimin replies, staring out over the city skyline, twinkling in the darkness as if the stars have fallen to the earth. "love, for you, is terrifying. it's like a religion. no one will ever want to sleep with you."

you glance over your shoulder with a smile and a glint in your eyes. "you are, aren't you? as for religion," you continue offhandedly, "i've always looked great on my knees."

jimin says nothing. he can't; it would be a lie to say he doesn't like it when you worship every inch of him in all the worst ways, wicking the sin off of him like sweat and cleansing him with every white-out daze.

he turns around, as light on his feet as a songbird, and his piercing gaze snaps to yours like a raptor. there's something missing behind those eyes, but his fingers glance over his buttons, and the whole thing flutters to the ground, white as angels' wings, around his bare ankles and marble calves.

he has your full attention. he's shameless, slinking up to you with dancing touches and fleeting glances, and he hums as you place your hands on the pretty dip of his waist. he plays with the hairs at the nape of your neck and smiles at the shiver that courses through you.

he brings your lips to his. "then tell me again," he whispers delicately, rosy and cherubic, "how you'll love me."

[madameaug]

Matcha Tea

Pairing: Jimin x Althea (OC)

Synopsis: Althea never had Matcha before. Jimin is sweet enough to take her to a spot he knows.

Konnie's Kafe was the name of the shop Jimin walked hand in hand with Althea. The spot was owned by a sweet Arab woman who Jimin met at one of the many food truck festivals in the city. The shop was a minimalist but modern decore. Tables were stacked toward the front of the restaurant, and the behind the counter is where the bar was.

"It's gorgeous, the lighting is perfect." Althea spoke to her phone camera. Documenting the experience as she usually did with new things she tried. In the camera, the ceiling light gave her a golden-hour look. Skin was poppin!

"Oooo, look at the flavors." Althea flipped the camera to show the blackboard calligraphy hanging above the bar. Cream-colored pendant lights hung above the cash register, and oil paintings of floral and matcha herbs sat behind the light. Little things that, as an interior designer, she loved to pick up on. The air was clean, the furniture was warmy. She could see herself here frequently.

Jimin figured he would try something new. Deciding to join in on the experience of trying something new with Althea. He tilted his neck, letting out pops as he internally figured out what to try.

The matcha and white chocolate combination caught his eye.

Konnie came out of the backroom. Her cheekbones are high as she smiled at the customers.

"What can I get for you all?"

Jimin looked over to his left to see if Althea was ready. She was too caught up in her monologue to notice the social cue Jimin was giving her. With a loving hand, Jimin wrapped his arm across her shoulder, his face coming into view of the camera. He looked at Althea through the camera.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, sorry. Can I get the tropical matcha, mama?" Jimin read the flavor description.

Matcha, coconut, and mint leaves.

"I would like the midnight matcha." Konnie punched in the orders on the POS system.

Jimin handed Konnie his card before she announced the total. Swiping the card, Jimin thanked her before following Althea to a table. As part of the decor, a flippable hourglass was in the center of the table. Althea rambled, talking about nothing in particular.

In record time, Konnie delivered the drinks to the table. Jimin watched Althea's pupils dilate in real time. Althea's tropical drink had a paper and toothpick tent hanging off the corner of the cup. Brown sugar on the rim appeared like sand, really selling the beach vibes.

"It's gorgeous!" Althea lifted the cup. "Jimin try." She turned the straw toward his mouth.

"You haven't even tried yet yourself." Jimin laughed.

Konnie, watching the two, smiled. Althea reminds her a lot of her bubbly granddaughter. A soul who was experiencing her first life. She was so open to exploration that it was nearly impossible not to love her.

Sipping the drink, Althea pondered. "ten out of ten!"

"Drink your drink, baby." Jimin picked up his drink, enjoying the new flavor he had tried. He gave Konnie a thumbs-up. She smiled, leaving the couple to enjoy their beverages.

In seconds, the sound of air passing through a straw. Jimin, not even a quarter through his drink looked at the empty glass in amazement.

"It was really good." Althea shrugged, tapping her mouth and applying a fresh layer of gloss on her lips.

[mylittlesyn]

I’ve been thinking about how daddy!toji would react/punishment reader if he found out that she opened one or more of her Christmas gifts early after telling her no numerous times.. probably even getting caught in the act

cause my impatience is unruly

thank you so much for literally all of your stories <3

I'm sorry this took so long, even after making it a valentines day gift it's still like a month after valentines day. Hopefully you'll consider it worth the wait!

CW: Spanking, light bondage, sensory play, bruising, marking... I think that covers it.

Masterlist

Opening the top dresser drawer, you started to put away Toji's underwear. It was only a few days left until valentine's day and you were starting to get even a little anxious.

Toji said he had something planned. It wasn't really like him. He's not really a romantic by any means, and he doesn't really plan things either. Impulsiveness is much more his style, but he claimed to have something arranged. You begged for information, anything at all, but he refused to tell you. You even at least asked for information on what to wear, but he claimed to have that taken care of too.

You were excited, worried, nervous, anxious, scared, happy, surprised all rolled up into one ball of you.

Ever since he mentioned he had something planned your mind kept racing with all sorts of different ideas. Perhaps he managed to get a reservation at a nice restaurant. Maybe it was just him putting up with watching some romcoms with some ice cream. Maybe he was going to burn the house down attempting to cook. Maybe he'd be smart enough to order food and pretend he made it. Maybe he planned something more elaborate, like a scavenger hunt centered around places that mean something to the both of you.

Would he get you chocolates? Flowers? What types of flowers? Roses? Carnations? Tulips? Did he even know your favorite flower?

There were so many possibilities and! You. Knew. NOTHING.

You placed down another pair of Toji's underwear to tuck it away in the drawer when you noticed something hard to the touch underneath. You lifted the other pair of underwear and found a box that was wrapped in red wrapping paper.

Was this a Valentine's day present for you? Surely a peek couldn't hurt... You flipped over the rectangular box that was was a little bit shorter than the length of your hand. With extra caution, you dipped your nail under the tape, lifting it slightly to try not to ruin the wrapping paper. You barely managed to peel off the corner, a bit of the pattern sticking to the tape.

With the corner undone, you were able to slide the box out from the wrapping paper. It was white, with the word CRAVE on it in grey. Upon opening it, it revealed a gold sleek and long pendant. It was cylindrical and almost... Looked like a bullet.

"What are you doing?" Toji's voice startled you, making you drop everything onto the floor. When you turned around to face him, the color drained from your face. He was clenching his jaw, fists formed and knuckles turning white.

"I-I-I didn't mean to... I was just... Putting laundry away and then I felt something firm and when I looked it was the present and you've been so secretive about everything I just wanted a peek please Toji I'm so sorry!" You rambled finishing with a squeak as he walked up to you. His form towered over you, your head tilting up just to look at him. He got so close to you that you could feel his huffs on your face.

He squatted down, picking up the necklace and the contents of the box.

You raised your brows, shocked at Toji's actions considering his reaction. He was properly pissed, and you could tell. You knew he would never be violent towards you, but you also knew there was a reason he would always go to the gym after a fight.

"Did you like it at least?" He grumbled while standing back up and holding out the pendant and... USB cable in his hand.

"It's beautiful, but... What is it?" You wondered while picking it up, feeling a button under it. When your eyes met his again, you could see that sinister smile on his face. The scar at the corner of his lips stretched, his hand gripping onto the back of your neck. His lips pressed to your ear, the warm breath sending a tingling feeling along you.

"I'll show you as part of your punishment." He smiled, his teeth brushing the outer shell of your ear.

There you were, blindfolded and wrists tied together in front of you while completely naked. You felt his hand on the small of your back, guiding you somewhere until you felt your knees hit the bed frame. "Bend." He demanded. How could a single word make you so wet? The way he commanded had you squeezing your thighs together as you bent over with your forearms pushing onto the mattress and keeping you up. "All the way." He scolded, pushing the back of your head to have your face buried into the mattress.

There you were, squeezing your legs together again. His big hand nearly covered your entire cheek as he smoothed over your behind. His hand left the cheek and you tensed as you waited for impact. "You just couldn't wait, could you?" He placed his hand gently on your cheek again, smoothing over it before quickly lifting and slapping his hand against your skin.

It stung. It stung and you knew it was red. Instead of giving you a moment, he did it again and you yelped in response. "I'm going to make you wait." He sneered before groping your cheeks. You could feel his clothed legs behind you. His hands gripped your hips and he lifted you up forcing your knees onto the bed as he pushed you forwards with his hips. He slapped once, twice, three times. He slapped both cheeks until the were nice and red and warm.

His touch left you and you swore that he would spank you again. That wasn't what happened this time. This time, you could feel his thick and wet girth smooth over your right cheek. "Mmmm... Feels nice and warm." He hummed with you whimpering. It stung to the touch, but you were also so wet and aroused from the pleasure that came with the pain. He was already leaking, and you could tell, feeling the wetness smearing over your cheek.

"You don't get anything yet. You have to wait." He warned before you felt him pull away. The cool air in the room brushed over your behind, soothing it just a bit. It was nowhere near enough. You knew you would bruise and you knew it would be sore to sit for a while. There wasn't anything like welts, but you knew the burn and sting enough to know it would stay a while. Just as you were thinking about how it would hurt to sit, Toji slid his hands under your arms from what felt like in front of you. He dragged you along the bed, pulling you to the side before you felt his legs at your side.

He was moving you between onto him, your hair getting pulled and pinched by the dragging. You wish you could help, but it's not like you knew where to go. There was a blindfold on you, and your wrists were tied together. Unless he gave you instructions there wasn't much you could do. Your face was pressed to his chest, hard and flexed from moving you.

When it softened, you nuzzled into him. "I'm sorry." You whimpered.

"I forgive you, but that doesn't mean you can go without punishment." You could hear the smug smile on him. When he flipped you over, your behind started to ache. Your hair was stuck behind, so you tried to reach forwards a bit and wiggle until you found yourself comfortable once more. As you leaned forwards, you felt a cold chain placed around you but the long pendant was warm. It rested on your chest between your breasts and you wondered whether it was the gold necklace you had seen earlier. "One of the presents was this necklace." He lifted the pendant and took it off just as quickly as he had put it on. "But you see it's not just a necklace..." He slid something that felt like the pendant between your lower lips. It was still warm and hard as he rubbed it against your sensitive bundle of nerves, but a second later a little hum came on and the vibrations pushed against you.

You gasped at the new sensation, while you felt Toji's lips tugging on the lobe of your ear. He held the pendant vibrating against you as he continued to move along your neck. Each kiss he placed was accompanied by him sucking on the skin... More marks to match the ones you already had. Moans escaped your lips, the sensation intensifying quickly. Just as he reached your collar bone he made the vibrations more intense.

Muscles started tensing as you thrust your head back. Just as you took in one last inhale when you teetered on the edge... The vibrator turned off. "Did you really think I would let you cum that easily?" He grumbled into your ear before nibbling towards the top.

A groan that turned into a whine was released after the fifth time of not achieving orgasm. It was starting to make you wonder if you ever would. That being said, the necklace was proving to be a wonderful present... If only you could be the one controlling it.

"Toji please!" You begged. "Please let me cum! I'm sorry Toji, please!" You begged some more hoping he would finally hear your pleas.

"Hmmm..." You could feel the rumbling of his chest as he contemplated behind you. "I am starting to ache..."

"Yes! Please Toji! Use me!" You cried, already starting to feel exhausted from the time spent bound. His hand held your jaw, turning your head as far back as you could. Lips pressed to yours before his tongue crept in. It felt needy, which meant you would get your relief.

"I could never say no to that." He mumbled against your lips. You felt him slide down further on the bed so that he was laying down, holding you in place with your back on his stomach. The sound of fabric ruffling came to your ears as he bucked his hips up, all while keeping you laying on him.

A moment later you knew that was his leaking thickness pressing at your entrance. It slid in easy, considering how wet you were from all the orgasms that almost happened. You thrust your hips back, trying to get him to go deeper than the current position would allow.

"Going to be greedy? Then you do it." He gripped onto your shoulders with the pendant still in his left hand, and lifted you so you were sitting up right on his length. "Go on... Ride me." He demanded as the cool are wafted around you. You adjusted your legs and moved them over his hips, placing your shins on the mattress at his sides. While pushing yourself up you felt Toji's hands on your hips, guiding you and steadying you. As you sunk him back into you, you could feel the stretching and the way the fat tip pushed against that perfect spot in you before settling against your womb.

You rocked your hips back and forth feeling him move in you pressing against that spot with more and less pressure. Toji's hands moved to the fat of your behind, helping you rock back and forth with more intensity. His hips started to buck up rhythmically eliciting groans behind you. You lifted yourself again before sliding back down and rutting your hips.

"Mmm... Yeah, like that." His hum resonated, you could tell how deep from within him it came. You started up a pace, lifting yourself off of him and lowering back down. The way his tip always pressed right against your womb had you moaning, placing your tied up hands on one of his thighs for better leverage. Your muscles started to tense a bit, but the burn in your thighs was stronger still. Just as you were questioning whether you would make it, you feel Toji slip the vibrator against your nub.

The intensity of everything quickly had you keening, your body twitching in pleasure as you reached your high. Toji's hips bucked a few more times before he groaned behind you while you gripped onto his muscular thigh. Your nails sank into his skin as he rode you out. His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing to your neck. That strong hand of his turned your face again his lips pressing to yours. His other hand slipped off the blindfold and when you parted, your eyes met his bright green ones.

"Maybe I should always look early for my presents." You smirked before his lips devoured yours once more.

Tag List: @cyancherub @weebaboobs @katanaski @shellythecrow-main i need to write down a proper taglist somewhere because this is so bad.

[m1d-45]

— To Xiao —

Hello, Birdie. Another star for you ! just as a little gift this time.

I hope you’ve been alright as of late, and hope chef Yanxiao has been feeding you well.. if not, be sure to tell me ! I’ll send him a letter as well. He’s very sweet, anyway.

I digress. I would also like to thank you for your hard work protecting liyue ! very good job ! just be sure to take care of yourself as you would take care of me.

Please use this gift as a reminder to do so, it should be strong enough to hang on your belt.

— Your buddy, The Creator :]

【 Enclosed is a jade pendant, a vibrant red tassel with a single white bead hangs from the end. 】

(((off topic, i’m so embarrassed sending so many asks in of xiao. i swear i’m not a fanatic i just honestly don’t rlly like any others – owl anon )))

xiao stood on the balcony of wangshu inn, watching the stars as they began to fall. he’d borne witness to many a starshower before, had been among them himself as they dripped from the sky, landing in your hands with a flash of blinding gold.

he was there, which is why he was surprised when one came to him on earth instead of the skies. his stars weren’t up, the sky empty of his constellation, and yet he caught a star anyway, the warm heat of heaven cradled in his palms. he held the star gently, the balcony illuminated by its light, and he wondered why it had strayed from the sky.

before he could wonder any further, it cracked, splitting open along an invisible seam. it dissolved into fine dust, eventually blowing away with the wind, leaving him with only a bit of paper and a small charm.

xiao opened the paper first, briefly shocked at the writing within.

‘birdie’?

he had no doubt you knew of his adeptal form, of his wings and talons and ink pools for eyes, but…

the liyue night was not the only thing warm.

he read on, brows furrowing on the middle paragraph. an acceptance of his work for liyue, he understood, a commendation of his efforts, he understood, but you… surely you knew he was not one to be revered as you were? he was not to be worshipped and praised, he was not to be knelt or prayed to. he… was not meant to be treated as the divine were. he was a yaksha. an adeptus. a mortal, even if his lifespan stretched far beyond that of humans.

still, he picked up the small jade pendant, the coolness of the stone lost in the fabric of his gloves. even if he did not understand you, if he didn’t know how to follow an order he could not keep…

the next time alatus returned to his duties, he did so with an extra swath of red at his side.

[bookish-library]

The Underworld Saga Staging

It's finally here!!!!!! This idea has consumed my brain for the past week and it has finally been out to paper! I will be posting the next two chapters (no longer you and monster) in the next few days. I cannot wait to share this with you guys, I hope you see my vision!

Apologies for any formatting errors, I'm on mobile

Story below cut, here's the Ao3 link!

Summary:

We've all listened to the soundtrack, watched animatics, and have our ideas of how each song looks, but what if it was performed live?

Laid out like a script, with staging and lyrics, this is how I think the musical could be staged. This is the Underworld Saga!

Stage directions are referenced, so here is a key: (SR/SL are if you were standing on the stage, and what your left and right would be. If you were in the audience (house) it would be reversed) SR: stage right SL: Stage left CS: Center stage DS: Down stage US: Up stage MS: Mainstage (not a real industry term, but useful for this situation) Segue: means continue straight into without stopping Check out my pinned post for a diagram of the stage!

Segue from THERE ARE OTHER WAYS

CREW and ODYSSEUS transition to extension walkway. Lights out. Transition stage to THE UNDERWORLD. As music begins, cue backstage fog machines. CS curtain down, to hide smoke as much as possible. 

Ship ropes begin to creak (cue music) as CREW and ODYSSEUS cross out to extension. Some CREW members mime doing ship activities (choreography?). ODYSSEUS is furthest down stage/closest to audience. Lights still remain neutral, shaded with pink/blue (Circe/Ocean). CREW listens in to ODYSSEUS as he speaks:

ODYSSEUS:

Friends, Circe's instructions were clear

No matter what we hear

ALL:

Full speed ahead

ODYSSEUS:

Until we find the prophet

My comrades, this land confuses your mind

So no matter who we find

ALL:

Full speed ahead, until we find the prophet

ODYSSEUS (spoken):

Good

ODYSSEUS shatters CIRCE’S pendant, and lights instantly change to grey/white/black. CS curtain drops, revealing ENSEMBLE (and FALLEN SOLDIERS). Turn up fog machines. Cue scream track. As CREW continue ship mimes, Odysseus walks extension towards mainstage in horror. Ensemble faces away from audience, a constant moving mass, a horrifying sight. 

ODYSSEUS: CREW:

All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes

I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died

Nothing's what it seems

Nothing's what it seems

And here in the Underworld, the past seems close behind

ALL:

This land confuses your mind

ENSEMBLE turns as one to face ODYSSEUS and CREW. Turn down scream track. Front row of ensemble acts as a guard against the back rows as the back rows reach out for ODYSSEUS and CREW in waves (timed with music).

FALLEN SOLDIERS:

When does a man become a monster?

Five hundred fifty-eight men who died under your command

(Members become highlighted as they reach out, recognizable members of his crew)

Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!

Why would you let the cyclops live

When ruthlessness is mercy?

“Mercy” is sung to the audience, FALLEN SOLDIERS taking various poses of pleading (lots of hands outstretched). As music continues, ENSEMBLE and FALLEN SOLDIERS begin to “pulse”  (choreography here to make it artistic), creating a scene that ODYSSEUS can hardly look away from. CREW continues to mime ship duties, shifting to become lower to the ground so that visibility is not obstructed. 

ODYSSEUS: CREW:

All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes Dare to close my eyes

I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died -mares of those who’ve died

Nothing's what it seems

Nothing's what it seems

But in the Underworld, the past seems close behind

I keep thinking of the infant from that night

I keep thinking of the infant from that night

Maybe include a small echoing cry, or have ensemble member hold a cloth bundle? 

Scream track stops, CS lights shift to become lighter, more white.

POLITES (unseen):

This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms

ODYSSEUS:

Polites

ENSEMBLE parts and begins to slowly exit. POLITES stands CS, highlighted but not spotlighted. During sections with POLITES and ANTICLEA, CREW descends off of extension stage but stays nearby, perhaps sitting frozen in working positions?

POLITES:

Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart

No matter the place, we can light up the world

Here's how to start:

Greet the world with open arms

(Stage highlight fades as he calls out one last time)

Greet the world with open arms

(POLITES exits in the darkness)

ODYSSEUS:

Polites

Moment of quiet, only music/ropes creaking. Stage neutral grey lighting, continue fog machines. 

ANTICLEA (offstage):

Waiting

ODYSSEUS stills, facing mainstage. 

ODYSSEUS (spoken):

That voice, it can't be

ANTICLEA (entering from back of audience):

Waiting

ODYSSEUS turns, looking out into the audience. 

ODYSSEUS (spoken):

Mom?

Wandering the aisles is ANTICLEA, calling out for ODYSSEUS. She does not see him. She starts to make her way up to the mainstage.

ANTICLEA:

Waiting

Odysseus, when you come home I'll be waiting

Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting

Odysseus, remaining on the extension, calls to her.

ODYSSEUS: ANTICLEA:

I'm right here, mom Waiting

Can't you see? I'm Waiting

BOTH:

Waiting

ODYSSEUS: ANTICLEA:

I took too long. I'll always love you

And ventured too far I'll stay in your life

While you were

ANTICLEA has reached the mainstage and is now DSL, about to exit SL.

BOTH:

Waiting 

(ANTICLEA hears ODYSSEUS)

Waiting

(She turns and sees him, still on the extension)

Waiting

(ANTICLEA acknowledges ODYSSEUS [blows kiss, reaches out, waves, etc] and exits)

ODYSSEUS (spoken):

Bye mom

A moment of silence, then cue fade in scream track (have ensemble member actually scream?) and ship noises back up. ODYSSEUS rejoins CREW at the extension stage. CREW begins ship motions (choreography?) once more.

ODYSSEUS: CREW:

All I hear are screams All I hear are screams

Every time I dare to close my eyes Dare to close my eyes

I no longer dream I no longer dream

Only nightmares of those who've died -mares of those who've died

Nothing's what it seems

Nothing's what it seems

ALL:

But in the Underworld, your past is always close behind

Your past is always close behind

Down in the Underworld

At final note, highlight (same as POLITES, white/grey) on mainstage, where TIRESIAS is standing SR. ODYSSEUS and CREW are facing audience.

Segue into NO LONGER YOU