#Imitation Pearl Necklace

[ledyjewels]

[gemville]

Bulgari Art Deco Natural Pearl, Cultured Pearl, Diamond and Imitation Gem Necklace, Circa 1930

This necklace was a wedding gift from Prince Gaetano Of Bourbon-Parma to his wife, Princess Margarete Of Thurn and Taxis and thence by descent

Source: christies.com

[sharkyswaters]

[bebemoon]

look for the name: NAUSICAÄ

@wickedslip

alexander mcqueen "shipwrecked" runway sheer silk shredded top, s/s 2oo3

roberto cavalli leather mini skirt

paco rabanne chainlink crochet beanie

ancient future "the mirage of abyss" shell corsair imitation pearl necklace

a pair of venetian chopines, c. 17th cent.

[florvaine]

silver spikes and pastel ribbons.

headcannons of Hobie with an opposite aesthetic gf. (afab! reader)

genre: mainly fluff, slight angst, nsfw(?)

warnings: little nsfw if you squint, crying, some kid gets a car lobbed at him 😭

i imaginee the two of you actually met at one of his gigs 🫶🏻

He was on the stage, flicking his roughened fingertips on each string on his guitar, a harsh rift sounding through the amp on the edge of platform as he moves his hand further up the fretboard.

Then he looks in the crowd, right by the barrier of sweaty, headbanging and most likely hammered fans, and you’re right there.

Directly in front of him, pressed against the metal-barred barrier that security was struggling to keep people from hopping over.

What caught him off guard wasn’t only the fact you were fuckin’ gorgeous, but the fluttery, light pink dress that was just above the middle of your thighs. White lace trimmed the v-shaped neckline that was held up by thin, spaghetti straps.

Strips of silky ribbon cascade from the wrap around your waist, dangling pearls and a small-chain necklace decorate your collarbones and shimmer like the sheen of sweat that held stray hairs against your temples and your forehead.

And your shoes - a pair of white, glossy, open-toed high heels that added a few extra inches to your height (Hobie secretly wanted to give you a few other inches), but even with them Hobie could still tell from the stage that he was way taller than you.

He misses a single strum of his guitar, so he temporarily redirects his attention back to the gig, his hickory eyes still wandering over to you from under his mask.

100% got the security to practically hunt you down so you could meet him backstage.

He’s a little anxious because they were taking a while, and he’s slightly disappointed at the thought you already left.

But then there’s a knock at the door and one of the security guards speaks muffled through his private backstage room.

“Hobie, got the girl you were askin’ for.”

The rest is history, really. You were officially dating after 7 painfully long months.

You got along well, even if everything else about each other was contrasting, you’re political ideals, music taste and humour are practically a copy and paste.

The two of you get undoubtably get some stares.

A man clad in black leather and silver spikes and a woman dressed like a doll stood out a lot against the Nike trackies of London.

“Everyone’s staring, Hobie.”

“Ignore ‘em, hun. They’re pissed JD is shut.”

Every now and then he takes you to a more quiet, downtown street with a collection of thrift stores and craft shops.

Hobie’s definitely caught in Hobbycraft at least twice a week 😭😭

Literally loves your style - everything from your jewellery to the way you get your nails done.

He’s whipped ‼️

Loves everything about you, but especially your hair.

If you wear wigs he’s helping you install it, if you have naturally curly hair he’s taking note of each step for later on, he reads the labels of every hair product you own.

I feel like he has a thing for curly hair idk why I just get the vibe.🤭

Hobie definatly told Pav and Gwen about you when you first met, like the next day he’s at the Spider Society talking even more than usual.

“She was stunnin’, I’m tellin’ ya’ now. Really nice eyes,” He turns away from them and mutters under his breath, “And tits.”

Gwen smirks, “You’ve told us, I’m pretty sure.” She nudges Pav, and he’s giggling like an excited schoolgirl.

“Never thought I’d see Hobie have a full-blown crush!” Pav comments.

Hobie hums, a small smile on his face as he stares infront of him. Gwen and Pav share a look before they imitate the way he looks - like a lovestruck idiot.

It’s funny with one of you in the other’s room - Hobie, dressed in dark blues and blacks with an overall threatening aura just sat on your pretty pink bedsheets in your floral-scented room.

Sometimes you’ll randomly go on a tangent about a new dress or concert tickets whilst doing something else, and you’re convinced he’s uninterested.

Next time he’s at yours he had that new dress in a silk scarf wrap, or he pulls the tickets out of one of his pockets.

You’re in the kitchen of your apartment, stirring the milk into your tea as Hobie scrapes butter onto two slices of toast you had put in.

When he’s finished, he slides the plate over to you before leaning back on the counter and looking at your over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Bee,” You pick up the plate, moving it closer to you for easier access to the toast.

There’s two rectangular, shimmery-sheened tickets underneath the circular plate.

You’re shocked, looking at the ticket now in your hand, eyes moving from the words and numbers printed onto it and your boyfriend.

“Hobie, you didn’t have to!” You say.

“You said that ya’ wanted to see them, so I got us tickets.” He shrugs, a small proud smirk on his lips.

Movie nights every Friday after dinner 💕

Sometimes he has to leave early or he shows up later on, but he makes up for the time lost by bringing you your favourite food and drink from the local corner shop.

If you’re in college or uni, he will swing in every break and check in on you and everything.

When it comes to cuddling, he’s the big spoon 95% of the time unless he had a really shitty day.

Like really shitty.

It’s not very often Hobie crys, and even when he does it’s not for very long.

The man prides himself in being Spider-Punk, saving civilians whilst preaching his beliefs to his followers that feel more like a family than fans.

He can only hold on so long, and it’s only a matter of time before he can’t save someone.

Sure, the little boy wasn’t dead, he was in hospital after a car had been carelessly tossed into him by the anomaly he was supposed to contain.

After visiting the boy in hospital, chanting apologies and ‘get well soon’s like a broken record, he goes to the first place he can think of.

Yours.

There was something so special, so serene and comforting in the confines of your cluttered shelves and organised wardrobe pressed against the walls of your bedroom.

Hobie knew it wasn’t the room, but it was you.

You, so different and relaxing. Calming and exciting, understanding and motivating. Anywhere was safe if you were there.

He swings through shadowed alleys, reaching your apartment over the bustling roads and honking horns of the cars below.

Hobie perches on your small balcony, and taps on the window.

In his reflection, Spider-Punk looks back at him. Strong, unbeatable, selfless and stubborn. But as he pulls the mask off, the fabric hanging limp like a ragdoll cat in his had, Hobie Brown stares back at him.

Tattered, exhausted, overwhelmed and in desperate need to be in your arms.

The window opens. His mental image of himself splits away as soon as he sees your face.

“Rough night?” You ask, voice slightly raspy and muffled, yet still as soothing as hot tea and honey on a sore throat.

The routine begins when Hobie nods. He clambers in, he takes off his boots and jacket and leaves them by your desk, his mask discarded somewhere beside them.

You pull out one of his white, soft cotton shirts from your dresser, and a pair of dark grey shorts. He gets changed, you make a cup of tea.

Then he cries. Salty droplets of embodied sorrows paired with the pinch of his eyebrows and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Each time a tear drips down his soft cheeks you wipe it away with your equally as soft hands, smearing the liquidated sadness into his now clumpy lashes.

You count sixteen droplets this time before he stops, and you stand up to offer the silk scarf he wrapped your gifted babydoll dress in, and he takes it before wrapping the coarse, black wicks that topped his head.

And then he’s curling his back against your chest, holding the hand of your arm that loosely covers his waist.

Their consciousness fades into two seperate slumbers. A comforting silence drapes over the two lovers, knowing that the other will be there when they awake.

-—-

[omgthatdress]

Nanea Mitchell is a half Scottish-American, half Native Hawaiian girl living in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1941 during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Her release was met with a lot of surprise. Going back to WW2, it seemed like AG was running out of history. But Nanea is pretty different than Molly. She covers the beginning of the war and the Pacific theater while Molly covers the end of the war and the European theater.

More than anything else, Nanea represents Native Hawaiians in the historical line. Being post BeForever, she only received two books. The two book format might seem to fit covering one event like Pearl Harbor better, but honestly, with Hawaiian history and culture and the beginning of WW2, there is SO MUCH to cover. I think the traditional six books for Nanea would be fantastic.

To start with, I’d like to see some before and after. Appropriating Pacific Islander culture was a major trend in the 1930s, and the Hawaiian tourism industry really took of. It would be interesting to see Nanea’s reaction to White actresses wearing sarongs and leis and poorly dancing the hula on the silver screen, or seeing sacred tikis reduced to cheap bar kitsch.

You can listen to or read the episode of the food history podcast Gastropod about tiki bars.

As far as the Pearl Harbor attack goes, one of the enduring and most fascinating parts of history is the normalcy that exists during crisis. My middle school orchestra performed at Disney World two weeks after 9/11 when people were still terrified of going into major tourist places for fear of attack. We visited Disney World in September every year and had the date scheduled in advance, we weren’t gonna let some fucking terrorists stop us. I’d love to see Nanea just being a kid in the middle of chaos.

And then there’s just the island’s history! There’s so many stories you could work out with Nanea just learning Hawaiian history!

Nanea’s style of blouse is called a tea-timer. It became popular in the mid-20th century after being appropriated from the Chinese cheongsam.

(SneakyTiki)

Her shorts are a sailor-inspired design called moku shorts, but I can’t find any information about their history.

(Ritual Vintage, credit @in-pleasant-company​)

Her little necklace is made out of (imitation) celluloid and seashells.

(Garden Party Collection Vintage Jewelry)

Here’s a pretty great article about Native Hawaiian reaction to Nenea’s release.

[divine-misfortune]

Kinktober, day 3. Bloodplay.

Pairing: Dewdrop/Rain

Words: 821

Contains: Biting, Dew being a little possessive/jealous, a bit of dry humping

Summary: Dew bought Rain a necklace, and while it's pretty, it's not what belongs around his mate's neck. He's quick to right that.

Shout out to @sphylor for inspiring this nonsense

Read on Ao3

Steady hands slid along the soft lines of Rain's lithe body, the swell of his ribs and the curve of his waist, impatient, restless, and overheated. 

Dew watched with dry-mouthed enthrallment as the water ghoul's dexterous fingers fastened the clasps into place behind his head. Rain's head tipped one way and then the other, inky curls falling loose and out of place from behind his ears. Dew ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, watching the muscle in his neck shift under the skin like a goddamn invitation. Temptation at its finest, welcoming hunger. 

He unsuspectingly admires himself, and Dew is hopeless to admire him like the work of art he is. Carved from marble by the hands of the Unholy Father Himself, Rain's beauty could make angels weep. 

And with lines of pearls, delicately laced around his neck, strung together as carefully as the stars in each constellation, he might just bring a demon to tears. Dew finds himself tinged with jealousy, wanting his fingers to be the thing adorning his throat but he can't say it doesn't suit him. Everything suits Rain. Especially the rubies that glittered in the light, stark red gems threaded to trickle down his neck. They catch his eye and keep his attention fixed to the ridge of his collarbones. It's a gruesome idea for an accessory, imitating a bleeding jugular, but it made Rain chuckle. Dew knew from the glint in his eyes alone, his siren had to have it.

Rocking up onto his toes to hook his chin over his shoulder, he slotted himself properly against his back. Hips pressed flush to the swell of his ass, Dew smiled with a deceiving innocence as he kissed the space beneath his jaw. Rain hummed, hands settling over both of the fire ghoul's, dangerously close to where his gills resided under the shirt. 

His expression, initially amused, settled into something else. Not exactly sour, but not quite pleased. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I don't know...It's pretty but," Rain lets his head fall to one side again with a thoughtful sound. 

"But?" 

His shoulders rose and fell halfheartedly, careful not to shrug his mate off. He set about taking the choker off and returning it to the velvet box Dew had given it to him in. Dew drew in a shuddered breath when Rain started to look himself over again. Bare throat on display, an unmarred expanse of skin presented to him like an offering to a deity. He could almost feel the blood thrumming beneath the skin, tantalizingly close. 

"It's just…Not as pretty as the real thing, I suppose." He trailed off as he skimmed his fingers along the hollow of his throat.

Dew felt his teeth ache with want, his belly gnaw with need. He silently quirked an eyebrow, not exactly trusting himself enough to open his mouth, now when it practically watered. 

"Doesn't compare." 

He held Rain's waist tighter, knowing full well he'd try to wriggle away, and forced him forward against the mirror. The water ghoul choked on his breath and caught himself with a barred arm across the glass, Dew's eyes darkening over shoulder. 

"Not good enough for you, water lily?" The tip of his nose traced the slope of his shoulder to the juncture of his neck, voice gone raspy. 

"Dew-" 

"Only the best for you, right princess?" Rain shuddered under the heat of his breath, skin pricking as color flooded his cheeks. Dew licked a heavy stripe up the side of his neck, pulse jumping beneath the weight of his tongue. "Oh I can fix that easy." 

Be it from fear or arousal, Rain's eyes grew dark pupils blown out, breathing heavy with anticipation. Dew rolled his hips forward as fangs scraped over skin, dick begging for a semblance of friction. Rain's plush ass was enough to aid in fattening him up, but he gave another shameless hump forward for good measure. 

All at once Rain's face twisted up, wide eyed expression sharpening from pain as teeth broke skin. He wailed, knees nearly buckling. His heartbeat felt loud in Dew's ears, a frantic little pitter patter rattling in his skull. 

Sweet and metallic on his tongue, Dew felt himself growl in warning when Rain tried to shrink away from the loving embrace of his maw. Tasting him bleed was addicting, and he'd yet to get his fix. His blood was ambrosia adjacent, those rubies were no better than glass in comparison. Eyes flicking up, a low moan vibrated in his chest. Rain's face had relaxed, heavy lidded eyes and parted lips, stare starting to go distant.

Self satisfaction curled sickly sweet in his belly when the water ghoul seemed to press back against the bulge in his jeans. 

Dew wanted to laugh. Rain was right, nothing was as pretty as the way blood truly stained his skin. A cheap imitation to the nectar dripping from between his teeth. 

[burntcherrydust]

The Other Prince (nsfw)

bnha spoiler warning: Dabi is a Todoroki y/n is a princess set to marry Shoto Todoroki, but her heart lies with his reckless and cruel older brother Touya (Dabi). Here's a look into one of their nightly escapades.

Tags: kissing, oral (female receiving), nipple play, female ejaculation, vaginal penetration, choking, breeding kink, slapping, dominant Touya, submissive reader, some dubcon, alternate timeline

word count: 3.3k words

(sorry about any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Touya was never fit to be king. His father, Enji, had figured this all too quickly when he observed his eldest son as a child. There was too much anger, too much hate. No heed to any rules and utter disrespect towards anyone who would merely walk the wrong side of the hallway or not bow immediately when they saw him. There was no desire to be kind, to be warm or understanding towards his people. No, there was nothing in Touya aside from his triumphs on the battlefield that could have made him fit to be king.

His second eldest son had already publicly declared he had no intent to rule, instead providing his services to the palaces healers to much of the peoples approval. How could Enji have made him king without breaking the hearts of his subjects.

Then came Shoto.

Shoto was seen as perfect in Enjis eyes. Yes. The perfect king to lead the kingdom Enji built to protect and rule. Not only was Shoto kind and respectable, he was smart and knew how to take care of any matter within the lands walls. He listened to his peoples pleas, came up with war plans, made city plans, built community centers for his people, had excellent marks in his education. Shoto was responsible and just , something Touya could never quite accomplish.

Of course, there was one thing Shoto would never truly have that Touya always would- you.

You had first met the Todorokis 3 months ago, when you had just freshly arrived from the neighboring kingdom. There were hopes the kingdoms would be joined together due to such heavy reliance on each others resources, and with war threatening to spill over from foreign lands, it was decided there would be a marriage taking place to aid both lands.

The marriage had been announced 1 month into your visit, and what you thought had just been a visit to discuss resource trading turned into much more. Your mother and father had left a week later, coming back in the later months once the wedding grew much closer.

You grew miserable in your room, tired of seeing the same red silks each and every day, the same red flame crest adorning your golden door, the same ruby and pearl necklaces taking turns on your neck. You grew weary and homesick, wanting nothing more than to go home and be in your own bed, surrounded by your maids and companions. But this was your home now.

You grew miserable of the same straight laced people you met, with nothing else to say but the same thing, as if they were all programmed to imitate one another.

That was, until you discovered Touya. His vicious remarks, his off-putting grin, the crudeness within his words. His forwardness, the way he acted a brute and took everything for himself. But what you most admired was his ability to walk freely. To be the man he was inside and to show it off as such, to be selfish. It drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

And Touya, ever so wanting something of his own, was a flame that welcomed welcomed the moth to burn within him. And that was what led you to him this very night, just as any other.

You quietly opened your heavy golden door before shutting it behind you, looking left and right into the marble and stone hallways before making your way towards his room. With only a dimly lit lantern to guide you, you placed one soft foot after the other, peeking over every corner to avoid any guards who were on night duty.

You ran quickly through an open hallway that connected the tower that held your room along with other guest rooms and the tower that held the royal quarters. The midnight breeze from the open and glassless stone archways making your cerulean silk nightgown appear as mere wings as you ran 40 stories above ground.

As you entered the large doorway at the other side of the hallway, it opened up slowly to reveal Touya at the other end of it. You looked up at your lover before he encircled his arm around your waist, bringing you in for a quick kiss.

As you pulled back to you could only help but to smile at him. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, "I missed you Touya," you whispered.

He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes and letting them rest, "and i've missed you." He opened his eyes and took the hand on his cheek to his lips, kissing it before holding it in his, "We have to move quickly, got it? We can't have anyone seeing us like this."

You nodded quietly, tangling your fingers in his as you both moved quickly through the maze of hallways. Once you two reached his door, he shuffled through his keys till he found a key made of silver and sapphires, pushing it into the keyhole and turning the handle, gesturing his head for you to walk through. This had been your routine every night for the past month and half.

You walked into the room, releasing the breathe you had been holding in. You hear the door lock shut behind you before you're grabbed by the neck and pressed against the stone walls of Touyas chambers. His breathes grow heavy as pins keeps you up against the wall, kissing you with insatiable hunger. His hand keeps to your neck as he moves to stand between your weak legs. Wanting in, Touya gives your bottom lip a tug, his way of telling you to open up for him, to which you happily oblige. Not wasting another fleeting moment, his tongue darts for yours as the grip on your throat tightens, your vision beginning to get spotted.

Touya, satisfied with the kiss, gives your lip one last bite before pulling away and releasing his grip on your throat. You gasp for air as he cups both of your cheeks and forces your head up to look at him. He looks down on your candlelight lit face, cock hardening by each second before giving you a peck on the lips and lifting you up over his shoulder and walking towards his bed.

Touya throws you onto his black silk sheets, watching your tits bounce in the thin nightgown as you hit the mattress. You giggle, catching him stare as you open your arms to him, watching him crawl over you on his knees as you lay between his legs. Touya wastes no time kissing you again, pawing at your tits through the thin silk fabric. Touya pauses his kisses and gives your left nipple a sharp pinch, making you yelp out.

You pout and look at him, "what was that for? you know they're still sensitive, my monthly course had just ended 7 nights ago," giving his arm a slight nudge.

Touya uses his other free hand to grip at your throat, moving towards your ear, "seeing you in those damned red gowns all day had my blood boiling, and you perhaps want me to care whether your tits can take a pinch or not?"

You cup his cheek, feeling somewhat guilty, "Touya, you know I had no control over what the seamstresses had made for me, I wasn't even informed till they had already finished with the gowns"

He rolled his eyes, letting go of your throat and licking your jugular. "Next time, how about you request a navy blue gown? Wear it to the next ball and dance with Shoto in it, then later take my seed into you while you wear it"

You smiled at his jealousy, "ill let the seamstresses know next time then my prince," relaxing your body as Touya left dark bite marks around your neck. Finished with your neck, the prince moves down to his favorite part of you- your tits. Groping them, he feels for the hardening nipple underneath, watching it poke through the silk as his mouth water. He slips the straps down hurriedly, watching as they bounce out from the thin fabric as he kneads them in his hands,

You moan softly, feeling his calloused hands palm and squeeze at your sensitive tits. Without much patience left, Touya latches on to your nipple as you gasp from his roughness. You hold onto his head, your fingers through his hair, "ah, my prince please I-, they're still tender and sensitive from my course," your voice shaking,

Touya ignores your pleas and gives your nipple a sharp nip, satisfied seeing as your tense up.

"Touya, please, theyre too sensitive right now" you say, in a more assertive tone.

The prince lets go of the nipple in his mouth with a pop, bringing his stony face up to look at you. "Princess, shut the fuck because im not stopping." he coldly states before moving back down to your tender nipples and latching on.

You begin to writhe under his body as he roughly suckles on your nipples, making you shake and cry out his name with pleas. When he gives your nipple a harsh tug between his teeth, you cry out, trying to push his head away from your abused flesh. You're immediately met with a harsh grip on your throat, crushing your airways. Touya gives you a look that makes you shut up, his darkened eyes and furrowed brow making sure you won't be pushing at him to get away tonight.

You can only writhe under him as he abuses your tits, giving hickies on the fleshy under parts of them, pinching, pulling and biting at your nipples. When he's done with your nipples, he gives both a lick and a kiss.

Touya begins to kiss the area between your tits, talking between kiss. "You dont have a clue as to what seeing you in this blue night dress does to me"

You shyly smile, "its your colors my prince"

He lifts the bottom portion of the nightdress up your legs and ass, cock aching against his silken pajamas, "which is exactly as to why I want to fuck myself into you that much harder." The silk all bunches up together at your stomach, exposing everything to the prince

Touya grabs your legs by the back of the knees, spreading your legs all the way till you can see your ankles to the left and right of your head. You give a slight whimper as Touya eyes your exposed cunt for him, whispering "all mine" before licking a stripe down your slit.

Your hips immediately give a slight jolt as you still aren't used to him licking you there yet. He takes the tip of his tongue from the outer opening of your cunt all the way up to your clit before licking a thick stripe between your puffy pussy lips, lapping up any wetness that is leaking out now. When his tongue begins to lap at your clit, you throw your head back to let out a moan. Your hands find his hair as his fucks his thick tongue in and out of your pussy, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his tongue. But when he latches on to your clit and suckles, your swear you see stars as your eyes roll to the back of your head as the familiar feeling begins to boil up inside you.

"aw princess what's wrong, gonna cum everywhere already? I haven't even stuck my cock into you yet and you're already about to squirt everywhere." Touya grins, knowing only he can do this to you. You're about the deny his claims out of pride, but your sentence is cut to a stop by one of his thick, calloused fingers slipping into your leaking cunt. "Sorry princess what was that? I couldn't hear you over the wet fucking noises your pussy is making", curling his finger as he fucked it into you.

Struggling to find your lost voice, you try to grab at his arm to slow him down, "T-Touya please, its gonna come out everywhere if you keep going, I can't, I- Touya please I can't!". You want for him to slow down, give your puffy cunt a rest but all he gives is a dry laugh, shoving another finger into your abused hole.

"Can't what huh? Can't have your pussy squirting everywhere? Princess you're about to fuckin cum and we both know it, so dont hold shit back you got that?" Touya barks at you, moving his head lower so he's eye level with your cunt.

You try to bring your trembling hands to push at his head but the grip on his hair tightens when Touya uses his free hand to pull back the hood of your clit, giving it licks with the tip of his tongue.

"T-Touya, fuck i-, what was that!" you moan out, legs beginning to tremble and shake uncontrollably.

He pulls his tongue back from your clit and rubs small, tight circles on the hood of your clit, pumping his fingers in and out as you go tense up, eyes rollings to the back of your head. You try to form a sentence but only small mumbles can come out.

"Thats it baby, just like that, cum all over your kings fingers like a good bitch" he coos, feeling that all too familiar pulse from your cunt as you cry out, squirting everywhere.

Touya opens his mouth to catch it as it sprays uncontrollably out of you, still fucking his fingers in and out of you wanting more, "I want every last fucking drop of it princess, so keep on squirting it out for me like the good bitch you are for your king."

Your body falls limp onto the bed as the last of it sprays out of you. You can only weakly whimper as Touya laps at your pussy, licking up your soaked thighs and cunt as to not waste a single drop. His fingers slide out of you, your cunt suddenly feeling empty as he suckles on his fingers coated with your cum.

You can feel sleep entering your system, so tired from the orgasm you just had to endure. You want to sleep, but the grip on your hair to pull your head up has you waking up.

"Not so fucking fast princess, you think you can cum like that and then give me nothing?", his grip on your hair tightening.

You wince from the pain of it, "Im sorry Touya, I feel so tired right now, please", pleading with your prince. Though, he was never really known to listen to others as he slaps you awake.

Your head spins as your cheek burns from the slap.

Touya grins, content with awakening you. "There we go princess, all wide awake for me again." Touya begins to unbutton his navy blue silk pajamas, taking off the soaked material. He gets up, walking to the other side of the giant bed where its dry, grabbing your ankle to drag your weak body to the edge of the bed. You weakly whisper protests as Touya grabs you from behind your knees, push your legs all the way open till your cunt lays open and exposed, a small trickle of your creamy cum running out of your abused hole. The sight of it makes his cock leak even more precum as he stands over you, relishing the view of your broken body.

Wasting no more time, he grabs to ropes, tying each one to your ankle and tying the tethered ropes to the bedposts near your head, your legs spread and your cunt open, too tired to fight it. He always tied your legs like this to make sure you wouldn't be able to close them no matter how hard your tried.

Now in front of you again, the forsaken prince took his cock, popping the thick head of it inside your cunt, cursing under his breathe from the tightness that he would never get used to. He watches your puffy cunts lip spread open wider and wider to accommodate his thick cock till its all the way in.

The brutal stretch had you awake as tears formed in your eyes from pain. There would never be any amount of preparation that would ever make it not hurt for you.

The prince cups your cheek, comforting you. "Shh, its okay princess, just bear with it for now okay? it always feels good later doesn't it?". You nod, trying to not cry.

Slowly, he brings his cock out of you, watching as it shines in the moonlight from your wetness. His cock is almost entirely out of you with only the head sitting inside when he slams it back into you, making you cry out his name as he begins to fuck you without mercy, not giving you much time to adjust.

Squelching noises and wet slaps begin to fill the room as you helpless cry out from being fucked by your prince.

"Fuck, its like your pussy was made for me princess" Touya groans out, watching as a creamy white ring forms on the base of his cock from your cunt.

Tears begin to stream out from your eyes as he begins to hit your cervix. "Touya, please its too much! you have to slow down, I can't-i can't take it like this please".

"Take it like what princess? You dont wanna take it like the slut you are?," Touya jeers at you, his hand snaking its way to squeezing your bouncing tits. "Fuck, these are gonna feed our kids one day", Touya lost in a trance watching them bounce from each thrust. "you'd want that, wouldnt you? Your pussy just tightened up, you wanna be my breeding bitch, princess?" He situates himself onto the bed now, his body pressed against yours now as you fucks you in deep, hard strokes.

Your hands reach to cup for his face, "Touya you know we can't, im set to marry Shoto."

"And so fucking what? Everyone can watch as your belly grows day by day, they'll think it belongs to that piece of shit when its really my seed growing in you. Tch, and when the brat comes out looking like me, i'll proudly claim it as mine", his grip tightening on your throat.

"T-touya, please-" you begin as another orgasm bubbles up, but he cuts you off.

"You want it just as much as I do, want me to fuck a brat into you, claim you as mine once and for all." His pace begins to quicken, the thought of breeding you making him seed threaten to spill into you.

You hold he's face close to yours, wanting it just as much as he does, "f-fuck, Touya you know I do".

"Then give me as many heirs as I want, let me breed you over and over, show everyone in this fucking palace who owns your cunt, he'll never be able to have you ever, ill make sure of it", his hips snapping into yours now as you cunt clenches down on his. "fuck, princess you're clamping down on my cock so tight, you wanna have my brats that bad huh? Wanna be pumped full of my cum till I knock you up?

"Touya!" you whine out, "please, its-its gonna happen again"

"fuck, gonna cum for me again princess?", the Prince's breathing becoming jagged.

You begin a sentence but is cut off when your prince's finger reaches your clit, making your cunt spams around his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and when Touya feels you squirting all over his hips and legs, he goes limp and spills his seed deep inside you, cumming with you.

He kisses your forehead after you quickly fall asleep with his cock still inside you before sleeping on top of you. He sleeps hoping that tonight would be the night he'd finally impregnate you and make his for eternity, making sure Shoto will never have you.

[esrah-rah-rasputin]

Drawing based on this post by @bulkhummus, with their designs for Carlos and Esteban, because it was just too funny and too vivid a mental picture to not draw- Cecil is only not watching because he’s too busy looking for his headphones

A colorless illustration of Carlos the scientist and Esteban Palmer, at their kitchen table at breakfast. Esteban is clomping around in front of the table wearing Cecil’s headphones and brogue boots, which have heart designs as part of the leather. Both are comically large on Esteban. He has his arms crossed, and is announcing dramatically, imitating Cecil on the radio: “On the commUNITY CALENDAR, Monday has fire and lollipops, Tues…day …has pizza. and now… THE WEATHERRRR!!!” Carlos is seated at the table and heavily leaning on it as he laughs, looking to the left with a big smile and wiping away a tear with one finger. He says to Cecil, out of frame: “Cecil— WHEEZE- Cecil please, he’s like an itty bitty you, it’s hilarious-”

Carlos is a middle aged Latino man of medium build, with curly, grown out but not long hair, a full beard with two white stripes on either side, and notable arm and leg hair. He is wearing decorative bobby pins in his hair, a V neck shirt, pearl necklace, a plain lab coat, partially rolled up cargo pants, socks (one is slipping down), and hiking boots.

Esteban is a 3 or 4 year old boy with short hair who heavily resembles Carlos, and is wearing pajamas: a plain shirt and star patterned leggings.

The setting is a circular three-legged table and three chairs, two of which have round backs and curved legs, and back pads which are embroidered with flowers, birds, and stars. The third chair is a simple wooden high chair, which has the title “Esteban’s chair” and various animals, a sun, a heart, and a moon roughly carved into the back. There is a smaller message carved into the back of the seat: ♡, Uncle Steve. On the table are various dishes and cups, including a beaker-shaped mug by Carlos with the label: “lab safety violation mug.” /End ID]

[mote-historie]

Giorgio di Tomaso Schiavone (Dalmatian, ca. 1433-1504), Madonna and Child with Angels, between 1459 and 1460.

In this altarpiece, the Virgin Mary wears gold brocade with pearls, and the Christ Child, with his necklace of red coral, stands on a tasseled cushion. Through these precious materials, the painter has communicated the divinity of the figures. On the parapet at the bottom of the painting is a carnation. Its Greek name, dianthus, means "flower of God."

Schiavone uses the vibrant color of coral throughout this painting and portrays the baby Jesus as wearing a coral necklace and pendant. Having these figures draped in luscious fabrics and fine gemstones set them apart and was a way to depict to the viewer how divine the figures were.

Children were gifted branches and strands of coral beads to wear as a form of mystical protection against evil. Once the child grew up and their strand of beads became too short, they might double the strand and wear it as a bracelet.

Schiavone was born in Dalmatia (present-day Croatia) and immigrated to northern Italy, where he studied with Francesco Squarcione of Padua. On the cartellino (little paper) in the foreground, he proudly identifies himself as the disciple of this master. Like his contemporaries, Schiavone was concerned with reviving the arts of antiquity, as seen by the garlands at the top that imitate Roman sarcophagus reliefs.

[notyour-valentine]

If you see reader and tommy getting married in tbitw would you maybe write a headcannon or a one shot (your choice) for them please

🍷Join me for a Drink 🍷 - TBITW: Marriage

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

This was written as part of my Series The Boy in the Window and contains spoilers

There wouldn’t be a grand proposal. Back in France, they had already made the decision to spend their lives together (or at least try), however the topic of marriage would be another they would dance around

(Y/N) would not be the one to bring it up, and Tommy would be too uncertain to do so, at least not without a lot of thought and prepared talking points (he may or may not even have written some notes). Instead, they would have an honest conversation and come to the realisation that it would not only be something that would be for the best of everyone but also something that would make them happy

Even though there wasn't a classic proposal, Tommy decides to give her an engagement anyways. He has to fight the instinct to get the biggest flashiest largest diamond ring he can find, but once he stands in that London jewellery store, he realises that anyone could buy a ring like that and so he takes a ‘business trip’ for a few days. 

He goes all the way to France, to that very same fishing village and searches for the vendor they had visited where he not only bought to sets of pearls (a pair of earrings, a bracelet and a necklace each) but also the best single pearl he can find with the smallest of imperfections (but there is one because it is real). Once back in London, he can’t resist setting it in tiny diamonds, creating a star shaped halo around it. These are the highest quality and cost more than most other larger diamonds, but he never tells (Y/N) that

They would tell the children together, but it would leave them a bit confused, since nothing would really change in their day to day life. But they would quickly realise that there would be a party, which excites them.

The wedding itself would be a quiet affair. (Y/N) is not a performative person and doesn’t really like attention and while Tommy likes showing off, he would agree

Tommy doesn’t care about religion but it is something that is important to (Y/N) so they have another church wedding. I see them getting married in a very small ceremony in a little chapel not too far from Birmingham, as Tommy is a family man and would definitely want his Ada, Polly and Arthur around. So it would be a smaller wedding with only the Shelbys inner circle and their close friends there (not more than 30 people)

I do see them wanting to avoid a lot of fuss, mostly coming from (Y/N) so they might spring a surprise wedding on the family on Christmas Eve since they are all already there

They are certainly wearing matching dresses/suits. It is the main reason why (Y/N) does go for a wedding dress even if it is more cream than white and she skips the veil. Emma and Charlie pick the bouquet. Her something borrowed is a bracelet from Polly and her something blue is the names of Tommy and the children stitched into the inside of the dress with blue thread. 

They are active participants in the wedding and even though Arthur was supposed to stop them, they climb into the cart after the ceremony

Charlie and Emma are both very proud that they got to drive their parents back, and even though (Y/N) is more than a bit anxious, Tommy has taught them well.

There is a lot of good food and dancing of course, and not just Tommy and (Y/N) - the children refused to be sidelined so there is at least one moment where Tommy has to follow Emma's lead in her made up dance (it involves a lot of spinning for both of them), while Charlie is super keen on imitating his father while dancing with (Y/N).

Their honeymoon is comparatively short, just three or four days where it is just the two of them. After five days at most, the children join them and they have a family holiday instead

Bonus fact:

Both keep their old wedding rings and place them in envelopes with letters to their children which they will receive when they are old enough. Both agree that their new marriage doesn’t erase or diminish the old one and they keep including Grace and Emma’s father in the children’s lives.

I want to thank you for participating in my celebration, @just-a-harmless-patato and I hope you like this little headcanon.

If you want to join in, click here to find out everything you need to know!

~

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly  @signorellisantichrist 

@lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul

[bitter69uk]

“Whenever Diana Ross goes shopping in Paris, it is a sign of what a famous person’s charisma can do. One day, she wanted some trinkets to wear to go dancing. After having lunched with friends at Maxim’s, her mile-long stretch limousine (something rare even in Paris) pulled up, and she was the first outside on the sidewalks in her floor-length sables at noon. Off she cruised to E. Oxeda, the Faberge of antique jewelers. Inside, she threw her sables on a chair. She jumped up on a Louis Something desk, her fake hair flying at half-mast. She crossed her legs, dangled them as she selected in ten minutes an antique pearl necklace, a diamond clip and some earrings that did the shake, rattle and roll between her cheeks and hair. The image of fame came when the bill was drawn up. “Would you like some identification?” asked Diana. Mme Oxeda said: “No, Miss Ross. We will deliver the jewels to your hotel this afternoon before six.” And this was a high Saturday when no banks could be called to verify her astronomical check, drawn on a bank across the Atlantic Ocean. It could have easily been an imposter, a drag queen, a professional thief. But Diana Ross’ super glamour is so authentic, it can’t easily be imitated.”

/ Andre Leon Talley in the book Mega-Star (1984) /

All hail the Queen! Call her Miss Ross! Happy 80th birthday to durable, volatile veteran pop diva, occasional (Oscar nominated) actress, sequin enthusiast, all-round glamour icon and one of Detroit’s finest daughters – the fabulous Diana Ross (born 26 March 1944)! Understandably everyone loves Ross’ music (both with the Supremes and solo), but I particularly treasure Ross’s spectacular 1975 film Mahogany in which she plays a struggling aspiring fashion designer who achieves the pinnacle of supermodel mega-stardom in Italy. It’s an unassailable so-bad-it’s-GREAT camp classic in the tradition of Valley of the Dolls, Mommie Dearest or Showgirls (and Ross’s outrageous costume and wig changes surely sparked the imagination of generations of Black drag queens, including “Mama Ru” himself). Fittingly, La Ross is currently one of the official muses of Saint Laurent’s Spring / Summer 2024 campaign – and it feels like a belated Mahogany moment! Portraits by David Sims.

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 24 - Prompt: "Do you know a way out?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 “Another day, another basement full of hidden horrors.” Astarion looked over to the others as he shut a book he’d looked through. “I’m beginning to think every house on the Sword Coast has a torture chamber or secret necromancy lab underneath it.”

It was meant to be a quick detour, stopping by this house on the edge of Wyrm’s Crossing. Falerin and Gale’s fault, of course; a particularly sad-looking refugee had asked for information on her wife, and they’d been incapable of saying no, despite his and Shadowheart’s best efforts.

But, at least, this secret passage behind a sneaky door in a dark and scary basement had plenty of treasure to snag. Astarion couldn’t be too mad about it. And it was cute when Falerin got into full do-gooder mode, he’d admit that.

“Oh, look at this.” His attention was grabbed as Falerin found a small jewelry box. He wandered over, arm draping around the half-drow’s shoulders as he did. It was an easy touch, effortless and with nothing promised in it—still odd, but getting more comfortable by the day. Maybe one day, he could work his way up to…well, that was hardly the matter at hand. He tilted his head, curls brushing Falerin’s ear as he looked at the jewelry box in Fal’s hands.

“Do you think it’s a lead?” he asked, then gave him a pointy grin. “Or am I finally rubbing off on you?”

Falerin rolled his eyes with a smile as he opened it. Inside was a pretty pearl necklace, with a key that dangled from it as he lifted it out of the box. “A lead. It should fit in that door Gale found earlier.”

“Then let’s go. The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner we can get our reward.”

They reconvened with the other two in the room with the door—it wound up being much larger than it seemed, opening into a large cavern. The four of them went slowly and cautiously, and Astarion’s hand rested on Falerin’s back as they walked—half for support, half to yank him back before he stepped on a trap. Eventually, they came to a fork in the path. All four stopped, silently deliberating. Shadowheart and Astarion went to examine the right path, Gale and Falerin the left.

As they both edged toward the path’s respective curves, Astarion called, “Watch for--!”

There was a small click. He looked down at Shadowheart’s foot, on a laughably obvious false stone.

“Well, shit,” he said.

The cavern rumbled, shaking them. Bits of rubble fell from above, leaving him and Shadowheart ducking back toward the entrance. What was the trap? Rockfall? Poison gas? They made it back to where they came in, only to see the entrance now blocked by a large boulder that neither of them had any hope of moving.

“Well. Shit,” Shadowheart said.

“Are you all right?” Falerin’s voice, muffled as it was by layers of rocks, came through. “We heard…well, it’s obvious what we heard.”

“We’re fine, darling,” Astarion called back. “Just caught on this side. Are you both all right?”

“Just shaken,” came Gale’s voice. “Otherwise all limbs and other parts accounted for.”

“What a charming metric,” Shadowheart said dryly. She looked down the path. “Let’s see if we can meet farther down. There must be some way to get back out, at least for one of our paths. In the worst case, whoever gets out to camp can probably get Karlach to come get us out.”

“Good plan,” Falerin called. “We’ll meet with you further down. Well, hopefully.”

Two sets of footsteps faded on the other side, and Astarion turned to look at Shadowheart.

“Well, looks like we’re going to have some quality time together,” he said lightly as he started walking. “While I have you, let’s talk about your hair.”

Shadowheart’s dark brows furrowed as she followed him. “Why are we talking about my hair?”

“Well, they do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” the vampire said, tossing his own pale curls. Shadowheart scoffed.

“I did not dye my hair to match yours, Astarion.”

“No?” He clicked his tongue. “Could have fooled me. Same shade and everything. I bet people will think we’re twins.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I’m dying it back when we get to camp.”

~~~~

Falerin puffed out a breath as he kept a careful eye on their surroundings. “I mean, the good news is there’s only one way, it looks like,” he said to Gale. He paused, looking back at him. “Do…you know a way out?”

“This may surprise you, Fal, but I haven’t spent much time wandering the dark tunnels under Baldur’s Gate,” Gale said dryly.

Falerin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, you might have some…spell of find exit or something.”

“Actually, I was working on one ages ago. Granted, it was more as a way to get out of particularly boring conversations, but I bet I could have adapted it for this.” He shrugged. “But in my current state, we’re stuck doing this the old-fashioned way. Unless your patron has anything to help us.”

“No. She probably thinks this is funny.”

“The age-old trouble with the fey.” Gale glanced over at Falerin for a moment. “Speaking of your pact…does…Astarion know the story behind it?”

“Hm? I mean, he knows about my patron. That’s not a secret.”

“Not your patron.” Gale glanced up, more for somewhere else to look rather than for a secret way out. “Your…condition. How long you have left.”

Falerin froze for a moment, then shook his head as he pressed on. “We’ve got bigger issues than that to worry about. No point in bringing it up.”

Gale hesitated. For a moment, it seemed he was going to let it drop. But he never could let anything drop, could he? “I just…he’s different now. Far different than the fellow who had a knife at your throat as an introduction. I dare say you’re a good influence on him. It seems to me a bit cruel to…”

“This really isn’t any of your business, Gale.” Falerin was very rarely short, but the words were crisp as they left his mouth, and his unearthly purple eye glinted as he sent a sidelong look at the wizard. He looked ahead. “Door up ahead, let’s go check that out.”

~~~~~~

“Can’t you just…pray us out?” Astarion asked, crossing his arms with a huff.

“It doesn’t work like that, and I don’t think Shar wants to hear from me right now even if it did,” Shadowheart said. “It’s like me asking if you could just turn into a bat and find a way out.”

“I do wonder sometimes how the bat thing happened,” he said, absently kicking along the stone wall for some sort of tripwire or hidden latch.

“I mean, I read about it in a novel.” She looked off to the side, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “Among…other things.”

Astarion stopped in his tracks, staring at her. “Shadowheart. Are you telling me, right now, as we are trapped, that you’ve read vampire smut?”

“It was a couple novels from an author I enjoyed…laughing at,” she said quickly, trying not to look flustered. “Obviously, I don’t think any of it’s accurate.”

“Obviously, it’s not.” They walked in silence for a moment. Then, all at once, she blurted out, “Okay, but can vampires actually make fog appear?”

“Can we what.”

“In the novel, the vampire was able to summon fog at will and control the weather. He usually used it to set the mood for…well.”

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her. “Shadowheart. Darling. If I could control the weather,  I would not have a fucking tadpole in my head.”

Shadowheart held up her hands. “I was just curious.” She looked around, then pointed up ahead. “Do you see that?”

Astarion looked. “Oh, that’s interesting,” he said, smiling. “That looks like the back of a bookcase.”

“Must be a door.”

“Which means it must open.” He pulled a lockpick from his bag with a pointy grin. “Let’s try it.”

They approached it carefully, being extra mindful of traps. As they got closer, there was undeniably the sound of voices on the other side. They glanced at each other, and Shadowheart pressed a finger to her lips as she leaned in. “That sounds like…oh, it’s Falerin and Gale. Thank the Lady of S…the moon.” She squinted, leaning closer. “Sounds like they’re arguing. Should we go in?”

“Them? Arguing?” Astarion leaned in as well. “Oh, they are. No, let’s let them go—they never argue. I wonder what it’s about.”

“Knowing Fal? He probably licked something again.” She glanced down at Astarion. “I have to ask. How does that…work, with him being a bit odd?”

Astarion raised his eyebrows. “Did you see the look on his face when I nearly slit his throat? I knew he was a freak from the moment I laid eyes on him.” He gave a fond little smile. “But I…knew he’d be kind, too. And he hasn’t proven me wrong—just look at this mess we’re in. I can’t even be mad at him for it.” The voices on the other side raised slightly, and he quickly shushed Shadowheart. “Oh, I think it’s getting good. Let me get this open so we can hear better.”

~~~~~

The door led to a tiny little work room, with a large bookshelf that seemed directly attached to the rocky wall. No way out that they could immediately see, but if this was here? There had to be a secret door somewhere.

However, Fal had only just started searching when Gale suddenly huffed.

“No, you know what? I can’t leave this lie,” he said, sounding nearly irritated. “You’re my friend, that’s why I haven’t said anything about your situation. But Astarion’s my friend, too, and it’s…you can’t leave him in the dark.”

“Oh, because you’re one to talk,” Falerin shot back, picking up a book. “I remember you conveniently forgetting to mention the fact that you’re a living bomb when we were talking about our illnesses.”

“And you’ll notice that I’ve since told you.”

Falerin set the book down sharply on the table, rattling the alchemy equipment on it. “What’s the point, Gale? It’s just going to upset him, and he doesn’t need that. None of us need that, and we might not even survive long enough for it to be an issue.” He swallowed. “He’s happy. I know he is. This will just…it’d just be unfair.”

“And it’s equally unfair that he’s in the dark.” Gale gave a sigh. “Look, I know the situation you’re in. There’s not as much immediate danger for those around you as there was for me, no, but…but he cares about you. We all care about you. And if anything, when it was me in your position, I…I can’t tell you just how much of a weight was taken off my shoulders just by having support. Even if we can’t do anything to stop it.”

“But that’s it, Gale. It mattered with you. With me…there’s no god asking me to do what Mystra wants you to do. There’s nothing special with me. My sickness really is just that: a sickness.” Falerin let out a long breath. “And really, how should I even bring that up? Just get back to camp and say, ‘Oh, by the way, Astarion, love of my life, once this tadpole’s out of my head, I’m going to be dead in a decade, and you just have to deal with that!’”

Gale’s eyes widened, looking at something just over Falerin’s shoulder. Fal turned around. The bookcase had slid to the side while he’d spoken, and Astarion and Shadowheart stood in the doorway. The vampire’s eyes were wide, lips parted but nothing coming from his mouth.

Falerin’s stomach dropped down to his feet, and his throat tightened. No. No, no, this couldn’t happen, not like this.

“Astarion…” he said, walking forward. “Astarion, please, let me just…” He reached out to Astarion, only for him to bristle and step back before his fingers could so much as brush him.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. He glared at him for just a moment more, then abruptly turned and continued walking through the cavern, leaving Falerin behind without so much as a glance.

[Part 2]

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[tokillamockingbird427]

More on Keegan having long hair, Logan LOVES it.

He loves playing it, helping Keegan brush and style it.

He loves pulling on it.

He buys cute hair accessories for Keegan. (Keegans' favorite are the strings of pearls) https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM65qfxdP/ He wears them like this ( Honestly, she has the hair I imagine Keegan does)

Hell, he loves the way it smells. (Keegans shampoo and conditioner are pomegranate/ lavender scented)

🐺

Keegan on his Rapunzel arc. Give me the au. NEOW! (I should try to draw this... hmmm.)

Oh she's STUNNING! Nice. The pearls are gorgeous with the darker hair. (And I'm ngl, pearls are my fave gemstone. Wore a pair of earrings and a necklace that were imitation, felt GORGEOUS!)

Speaking from experience: I know that shit is a nightmare to wash and dry. Keegan, braver than any US marine. (When he is a Marine! Lmao.)

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 44, vol. 20, 30 octobre 1898, Paris. 1. Corsage de bal ou de dîner. Collier Cyrano. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

No. 1. Parmi les dernières créations parues pour la saison des bals, nous avons choisi, dans le nombre, un charmant collier, dit "Esclavage," dont la simplicité et le bon goût nous ont séduit. Il est en perles fines de moyenne grosseur et mesure l m 76de long; le fermoir, un vrai bijou, représente une marguerite, avec perle fine entourée de simili-brillants; les personnes qui ne mettront pas de fleur au corsage laisseront voir ce fermoir qui formera une garniture charmante, surtout s'il retient une draperie ou un papillon de dentelle.

Le prix modeste de ce collier le met à la portée de toutes les bourses; son prix est de 7 fr. 95, franco par la poste.

Corsage de bal ou de dîner, composé d’une doublure ajustée, voilée de mousseline de soie et garni de deux draperies de velours retenues sur la poitrine par un bouquet de fleur. Ceinture de velours, manche froncée laissant voir le bras.

—

No. 1. Among the latest creations published for the ball season, we chose, among the number, a charming necklace, called "Esclavage," whose simplicity and good taste seduced us. It is made of medium-sized fine pearls and measures 1.76 m long; the clasp, a real jewel, represents a daisy, with a fine pearl surrounded by imitation diamonds; People who do not put a flower on the bodice will leave this clasp visible which will form a charming decoration, especially if it holds a drapery or a lace butterfly.

The modest price of this necklace puts it within the reach of all budgets; its price is 7 fr. 95, free by post.

Ball or dinner bodice, composed of a fitted lining, veiled in silk muslin and garnished with two velvet draperies held on the chest by a bouquet of flowers. Velvet belt, gathered sleeve revealing the arm.

[mirahuyooo]

Beloved Butterfly | kth

— From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he thought you were so beautiful—a butterfly he was so hesitant to touch in fear of it flying far away, but you stayed. As he became yours, you became his—his beloved butterfly.   

Word Count: 3,989 Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Content/s: suggestive themes, mature content (violence, guns, blood, all that mafia shit), fluff, romance, established relationship, dual pov, cold mafioso!Tae is a simp for you, you & tae being a dangerous couple (rawr?), there was an attempt with the action sequence lol, ANGST, Mafia AU

[masterlist] | check out the [moodboard] !

A/N: I really liked this one butterfly dress I saw on Pinterest and this was supposed to be a sweet CEO AU but I had just love the angst that the Mafia AU promised IM SO SORRY (っ °Д °;)っ ANYWAYS, i hope y’all enjoyed!! Let me know what y’all think (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

The black fabric falls gracefully over your figure before fluttering down against your calves. It was fairly simple at the front with a decent plunge that showed just enough of your décolletage to be the blank canvas that will display the layers of jewels you had planned on putting around your neck. The real party was at the back of the dress, which had the lace flowing out from the center into the shape of a butterfly—an imitation of fairy wings almost. 

Grabbing the pair of pearl earrings on your vanity table, you take a look at the woman in front of you. With most of her make up done so simply, she would've gotten away with a natural look—had it not been for the red that painted her lips. Her hair was held up in a simple bun with delicate wisps of hair framing her face—a style which allows her to appear effortlessly elegant and showcase the beautiful lace detailing on her back.

She looks beautiful. 

You look beautiful. 

You had no doubt about it—nor would you have had the chance to in the first place. With footsteps coming close, you knew instinctively he was coming.

Kim Taehyung.

"You look absolutely ethereal, darling," he instantly says this, the moment his eyes landed on you, engraving every detail in his head of the way you looked in the mirror. It would be sin to ruin such a beautifully put together masterpiece, but who was he if not a devoted devil? 

The red on your lips stretches to a smile at his words. “Thank you,” you say, eying him through the mirror with a gaze firm but fond. “I spent a great deal of time planning it through.”

Taehyung huffs like a child at the subtle warning you sent him. There was a dinner, you see, that Namjoon invited the both of you to, and with such high regards to pair with your will to fit into his world, your boyfriend knew there was no way convincing you out of this one—but, he’ll definitely try.

Stepping forward, his arms wrap around your waist in an almost territorial manner, a contrast to how his words soon come out. With a pout on his lip, your boyfriend puts forth his puppy dog eyes. "How can I possibly let you leave?" he then coyly whines, "can't we stay, hm?"

The lips grazing on your shoulders was tempting, but you manage to simply give him a sweet smile through the mirror as you put your last earring into place. You knew well a wolf hid behind that puppy façade.  "We can't, Tae," you tell him, wordlessly handing him the necklace. "We promised we'd attend on time."

In spite of the pout on his lips, Taehyung abides by your silent request and drapes the pearls around your neck, the diamond heart resting just right in between your collarbones as the gold chain that accompanies it hangs idly by. The proud grin on his face couldn't be helped—he had given this to you after all. 

This moment of triumph however was thwarted. It was hard not to when you caught the sneaky hands that were trying to slyly make their way down your hips. You thread your fingers together, locking them in front of your middle to keep them from wandering off. "Behave," you softly chastise, turning your head to shoot him a warning look. 

Alas, he only wolfishly grins, not at all threatened by your scolding, but he nonetheless indulges. "If I do, will you reward me?" He muses, nose skimming along your cheek as his breath fans your skin. 

You hum, turning back to press your lips in a short but sensual kiss. "Maybe," you say, pulling away from his embrace with a teasing smile. "Come along now," you sweetly call, "they’re already on their way there. We should be, too."

Taehyung almost growls at how easily you could walk away from the moment, but he composes himself. If he couldn't tempt your lust, then he knew it was best not to tempt your wrath and obey—for as long as he can, at the very least. 

After all, good boys get rewards, and Kim Taehyung loves such luxuries. 

Well into the night, the dinner party was in full swing—and yet, he would really rather be home right now.  

Taehyung watched as you talked with Jimin and his girlfriend, perhaps something about her job and the latest project she was working on. The amiable smile and sweet gestures that encompasses you makes the atmosphere light, easily easing the newest addition to Bangtan’s world—something that Jimin has once pulled you both aside and immensely thanked you for.

For Taehyung, it was expected, of course. After all, it had been your own curious courage for a conversation that sparked a bond between you both—you, with your kind gaze making him fall in love with you—and when it did, it burst into a never ending flame. 

A ghost of a smile lingers on Taehyung’s lips, but the icing on the cake is the fiery heart eyes he was making. One would argue that this softer look on the mafioso’s face was a sign of weakness—his heart bared on his sleeve in all of it’s vulnerability. After all, your constant presence has gotten rid of that terrifying glare he unconsciously does.

Such softness, however, mustn’t be taken advantage of. You, after all, had been taken in under Bangtan’s wing—trained by him, Jimin, and Jungkook themselves. You will never be caught so easily, and even if you would’ve been, there’s no way he’ll just stand there and do nothing.

As Jimin's girlfriend takes him aside to the buffet table, Taehyung seizes his chance to fill in your company. “Care to dance with me now, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your ear, as you idly sipped on a cocktail. 

You hum against your glass as you lean into his hold. "One second," you chuckle as you down the rest of your glass, setting it down on a passing waiter's tray. Fully facing him with a smile that nearly compels him to do the same, you link your arms with his. "Shall we?"

Taehyung straightens his posture as his eyes dance in playful joy. "We shall," he muses back, leading the both of you to the dancefloor where other couples have gathered to the music performed by the quartet. 

The sway that the two of you easily fall into made more time for Taehyung to engrave you into his mind—your eyes shining in awe at the chandeliers overhead, the constant beginnings of a smile that settles on your lips, and, of course, the love your soul bears as you finally turn your attention back to him. 

"What is it?" you lightly snort upon noticing the dreamy haze his eyes cast onto you. "Something on my face?"

Shame doesn't make it to his face, a proud, flirtatious smirk tugging at his lips. "Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you look tonight, my dear?" Taehyung purrs, head playfully tilting as you did. 

From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he thought you were so beautiful—a butterfly he was so hesitant to touch in fear of it flying far away, but you stayed. As he became yours, you became his—his beloved butterfly.

Again, you laugh—such music to his ears. "Only about a dozen times on the way here," you muse, jokingly leaning in as if your words were a secret no one else should hear. "As you should, of course."

Taehyung chuckles. "Mhm," he agrees, "feel free to smack me if I ever lack in that department."

You endearingly roll your eyes at his teasing, knowing full well he never holds back with his compliments. "Just dance with me, will you, Kim?"

Your boyfriend pulls you closer without any further complaints. "With pleasure," he croons, standing tall with the pride of being with a beauty such as yourself. Oh, how he loves you. 

BANG!

Alas, there are things in his life that put his beloved butterfly at risk. 

The sound of gunfire pierces the paradise he's crafted for the both of you, the noise ripping a startled scream from all around him—including you. Immediately, the gentle, warm hold he had on your waist protectively tightening around your waist like a boa constrictor. 

Who the fuck decided to ruin such a good night?!

Scouring the ballroom, he spots multiple gunmen surrounding the room as people begin taking out their hidden guns too. He turns to you, seeing you sneak your own pistol out. "Jagi—"

You interrupt him with a chaste, shaking kiss as you put up a brave front. "I'll be fine," you tell him, already readying to join the others. "Let's get out of this hellhole, hm?"

Taehyung could barely nod at your words, instinctively shooting at a bastard he saw point a gun towards you both. The two of you move almost in sync towards an exit, the panicked crowd nearly separating you two once or twice, but Taehyung never lets his eyes lose sight of you. 

"Taehyung over there!"

His head whips towards where you nodded your heads towards—a set of revolving doors where Hoseok and Jimin held their stance as Namjoon guides Jimin's girlfriend out with him to safety. His hyung, too, sees you two. "Taehyung! (Y/N)!" Hoseok calls, "come on!"

Running. 

That was all you could think of. 

You ran so much, your calves were aching to no end. It's most definitely a bad day to wear heels. Taehyung's half tempted to carry you over his shoulders, but neither of you could afford to stop, not when there were bullets chasing after the four of you. 

At some point, an intersection presents itself, with enemies in the hallway in the way of the two of you crossing over to where Hoseok and Jimin had managed to cross. The two of them cover for you both as you hurried over to them on the other side of the hall, Taehyung’s large frame hovering over as if to shield you. 

“What’s the plan?”

There was a note of urgency in his voice, his grip tightening around your hip as he gently moved you away from the corner. With Taehyung on your left and Jimin on your right, you check your bullets as the men think about the next course of action. 

Before you, Hoseok grunts as a bullet nearly pierces him when he turns to peak around the corner. “The parking,” he then tells your boyfriend, “get the cars, and the others if they haven’t made it there yet.” 

As soon as the four of you gathered your bearings, you all immediately fell into a system of pairs—Jimin and Hoseok, and, obviously, you and Taehyung. Taehyung covers for you from behind whilst you manned in front. You manage to shoot two men down on your way to the venue’s parking lot.

As Hoseok and Jimin crouch towards Jimin's car, you and your boyfriend head to a different part of the parking lot for his. “Fuck,” you hear Taehyung lowly cursing under his breath, making you follow his line of sight, where you soon see that near his car were the some armed men looming around. 

 Fuck, indeed. 

The two of you hid behind a pillar as you thought of the next move, which, fortunately, came to you. "I think there's about four of them," you note, "if we take down two each, then we’ll have about a few minutes until their backup arrives, right?"

Taehyung nods, though the rough layout of the plan doesn’t do well to assure him. Fishing out the keys from his pocket, another problem presents itself—there in the faint reflection of the car the two of you were hiding behind, he sees another man sneaking behind you.

Without another thought, Taehyung shoots him in the head. A bold and great move, had it not been for the fact that it attracted the attention of the other men in the area and unleashed a whole fight.  

The two of you curse under your breath, as both sides tried to stick bullets into one another. One would say this is no fair fight—two against how many is a sure sign of being outnumbered—but this was Kim Taehyung, one of Bangtan’s best sharpshooters, and you trained under him. 

Still, they kept on coming as the two of you tried to crouch closer towards his car—which hopefully doesn’t have too many holes in it to not work, otherwise this’d all be for naught. The rising tension is surely getting to you both, especially with the worry gnawing on you both about each other.

Yet, in the midst of the adrenaline rush, pain shoots through your body, an unexpected casualty considering that there's something sticking out of your shoulder —a throwing knife and not a bullethole. 

“(Y/N)?!”

Ahead of you, Taehyung calls out for you, frantic to realize the two of you have been split from the other—perhaps because right now you were ducked behind a different car, trying to process the fact that a knife was thrown at you. You debate your options, pulling it out would make you bleed out, but you need it out to move more and shoot these bastards down. 

It was then, another knife lands a nasty dent on the car behind you, missing your head by a couple of inches. You barely have the time to be shocked, forced to aim your gun at the bastard and shoot the last of your bullets on him, putting a bullet to his hand and neck. 

Looking at the empty gun in your hand, you curse and tuck it back beneath your dress. You don’t have much time, this you know as you peeked over and saw your boyfriend occupied in between shooting, taking guns from the dead men around him, looking around for you, and getting close to his car. That’s it. 

Taking a deep breath as you hold on to the knife embedded in your shoulder, you nearly make your lip bleed from biting back a scream. The grip you have on the handle is tight even as it shakes, and you use your other hand to apply pressure on your bleeding shoulder. 

You waste no time catching up with Taehyung, sneaking past the bullets as best as you could under the disadvantage of only having a knife to your defense. Easily, your boyfriend frowns in fury at the sight of you clutching your injury, shooting the assailants around you to clear a path for you to make your way to him. 

Too busy, ensuring your safety, he forgets his own, leaving you to notice the weakened bastard a few feet away, dying but not dead yet, aiming a gun his way. In that instance, your feet pick up their pace, sending you practically crashing into your boyfriend and Taehyung welcomes it, not knowing what was going on.

Two bullets lodge themselves into your back, while another grazes his arm. Only then did Kim Taehyung realize what occurred, the world around him turning deathly silent in spite of the fight still ongoing. Almost automatically, his eyes lock on the man, firing a bullet right between his eyes.

Sliding behind a car, Kim Taehyung tries to breathe, but even with his wrangled breathing, all he could say was your name. “(Y/N)?” he whimpered, his breath staggering just as much as his steps were from the impact. Looking down at your frame in his arms, he watched in horror as the blood bloomed across your back, the red butterfly ever so cruelly taunting him.  

He pulls back to look at you, praying the blood was someone else’s from somewhere in the commotion. Still, he couldn't will himself to move in any bigger motions, hands shaking at the thought of making things worse. 

All the while, however, you seemed to be grappling with reality, processing what had just happened. A soundless hiss leaves you at the pain lighting your body on fire. You can’t breathe—could hardly breathe—but you have to leave. You have to—

Your thoughts come to a halt upon realizing that Taehyung’s car is right before you. You made it.

Barely hearing him call your name, you lightly push him and yourself up. “Drive,” you urged him before he could utter any protest. This, your boyfriend obeys immediately, fishing for his keys and opening the car for you both, the bulletproof windows providing some coverage as you finally made it inside.

As soon as Taehyung reaches the driver's seat, he instantly revs the engine back to life, and plows through the gunmen trying to stand in your way. In that moment, a call from the others comes in from the burner phone hidden in the dashboard. It must be one of the boys. 

Did they all make it out?

You could barely make cohesive sense of the conversation they were having, barely even register the twist and turns that Taehyung was making to lose track of any bastards that could be tailing you. By the minute, your consciousness slips from you, no matter how hard you wrangle it back into your hold. There’s a bitter taste of blood in your mouth, and it dribbles down your chin. You’re bleeding all over the place and everything hurts like a bitch.

Next to you, your boyfriend’s heavy stare catches your attention. Your eyes meet, your dazed gaze with his teary, furious ones. “Why did you do that?” he weakly hisses, before glaring at the road before him. It's almost terrifying just how fast he was driving. 

Leaning your head against the window, your eyes flutter close as you try and gather your bearings. “Because I would die for you,” you tell him, laughing a little at the memory of him saying those very words to you too. Funnily enough, he, too, had caught a bullet for you then, and you had spent the whole week both scolding and pampering him. 

If it was the same this time around, Taehyung would gladly take it—pray for it to be the case instead of the worst. He would take the heart attack over the heartbreak any time—would rather spend weeks, even months fussing over your bullet wounds than have you go now.

Mustering some strength, you reach to weakly squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, as you wipe away at the blood tainting your lips. “I did it without thinking.”

Either of you barely hesitate with one another, that much he knows. His eyes fall shut for a moment, just as a frustrated sigh falls from his lips. His heart hammers as he takes the car en route to the nearest trusted hospital. "Stop talking," Taehyung sternly commands, taking your hand in his. "Save your strength."

You know well how hard he’s trying, and while you put all of your faith in him, he’s hardly stable at the moment. It hurts to breathe, but you put on a mask of calm collectedness. "Keep your eyes on the road, Tae," you then tell him, "Focus."

Taehyung’s breath shakes as tears run down his cheeks. "I can't," he admits, stealing a glance at you. The color on your face fades, but he hangs onto the traces of your bright spirit. 

“I love you, Kim Taehyung,” you tenderly tell him—just in case.

The frown on his face is immediate. “Don’t,” he curtly tells you, almost pleading, “Don’t say it like that.”

You softly smile at him, your poor darling, knowing that beneath this jaded front was a man who gave you his heart, the world, and more. 

Taehyung skidded between the lines of hating the damn smile and indulging the very warmth it radiated. Perhaps, it was fortunate then, that his eyes blurred with even more tears. 

No. Taehyung soon retaliates with himself, turning his focus on the road just as you said. I want to see her. Keep an eye on her. I have to get her to a doctor.

All the way there, his hand doesn’t leave yours—the faint warmth and pulse giving him a sense of hope as he drives. He doesn’t let go—not until the nurses held him back from entering the emergency room, not until he was forced to wait outside, not until another doctor forced him to get his own bullet wound dealt with. 

Now, he’s left alone with his terrible, terrible thoughts. 

Kim Taehyung shakes—with rage, with fear, and with hurt—even as Jimin and Yoongi came to sit with him, and assured him that the doctors will be doing the best they can, he couldn’t pay them any mind. His head bubbles with the ugly thoughts of blame, resentment, and vengeance.

“Mr. Kim…?”

Hours of what like forever later, a doctor finally came to him, approaching nervously. Kim Taehyung, being the intimidating force of nature he is, looms over the man with an eyebrow cocked, daring him to deliver bad news. 

“We’ve done the surgery to the best of our ability,” the doctor stammers, “but…”

Taehyung’s blood ran cold. “But what?”

“She… she already lost a lot of blood, sir…”

Then and there, his world crashed.

Next to him, Jimin holds a tight grip on his arm, both to comfort his old friend and to hold him back in the case of an outburst. “Taehyung…” he calls for his name, but the man doesn’t give him any response. Taehyung was clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into the palms of his skin, drawing blood.

Without another word, Taehyung pushes Jimin away, storming out of the hallway, but his two hyungs catch him in time. The two of them hold him by the arm, wrangling the young man as best as they could. “Taehyung, that’s enough,” Yoongi scolds him, the older man struggling against holding him back. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

But the man in their arms could barely think anyway. “Let go of me!” he bellowed, chest heaving from the sobs that escaped him. “I’m gonna kill them! I’m gonna fucking kill them!”

Bystanders look at the commotion, shocked by the profanities being screamed—unaware that the grieving man was an actual criminal. “Calm down first!” Jimin yells as the two of them drag Taehyung away from prying eyes. “You need a plan to think things through. You’re going to get yourself kil—”

“I don’t care if I get killed!” Taehyung bites back, “I don’t—”

A slap renders Taehyung speechless, the sting on his cheek waking him up for a second before he glares back at Yoongi who now holds him firmly by the shoulders. “(Y/N) wouldn’t want you dead, Taehyung,” he tells the young man, “think and focus.” 

At the mention of your name, he stops fighting back, head hanging low as sobs wrack through his very being. He plays the last of your words in his head.

I love you, Kim Taehyung.

This dawns yet another revelation to puncture another crack in his heart. “I didn’t…” he whimpers, letting Jimin pull him into a hug, “I didn’t tell her I loved her back.”

His best friend rubs circles on his back, heart breaking for the loss of a friend and the heartache of another. “She knows you do, Tae,” he assures him, “She always does.”

And Taehyung knows this well too. That smile you gave him was everything he could ever need to remind him how much you love him and how much you know he loved you too. The thought alone soothes yet burns him all the same. 

Anger fades from his eyes, but so does every other emotion. His beloved butterfly, crushed under the cruel boot of fate while the bastards that started all of this are out there. “I’m gonna kill them,” Taehyung swears on his life, carving all of this in stone, “all of them.”

And like the butterfly of fate itself, your death unleashes a storm. 

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk​ @dreamamubarak