#buy followers on instagram cheap

[wholesalesmmstore]

SMM Panel | Cheapest SMM Panel | Buy Social Media Likes, Followers, Views Etc.

An Impressive Experience with Most Successful & Cheapest SMM Panel Is Wholesale smm store.

I recently had the opportunity to use Most Successful & Cheapest SMM Panel and it has proven to be a reliable and efficient SMM panel. Here's a brief review of my experience:

User-Friendly Interface:

The website boasts a clean and user-friendly interface, making it easy for users to navigate and find the services they need. The straightforward design contributes to a hassle-free experience.

Wide Range of Services:

Wholesale smm store offers a comprehensive range of SMM services, catering to various social media platforms. Whether you need Instagram likes, Facebook followers, or YouTube views, the platform has you covered.

Quality of Services:

The quality of the services provided is commendable. I observed a significant boost in engagement and visibility on my social media accounts after using the panel. The delivered services were prompt and lived up to my expectations.

Customer Support:

Customer support is a crucial aspect of any online service, doesn't disappoint. Their responsive and helpful support team promptly addressed my queries, ensuring a positive overall experience.

Competitive Pricing:

One of the standout features of Wholesale smm store is its competitive pricing. The platform offers affordable packages without compromising on the quality of services, making it a cost-effective choice for individuals and businesses alike.

Conclusion:

In my experience, Wholesale smm store stands out as a reliable and efficient SMM panel. With its user-friendly interface, diverse range of services, quality deliverables, responsive customer support, and competitive pricing, it has earned my recommendation.

[famegrows]

How To Get a Million Followers Using Smm Panel?

Top 10 SMM Panels to Boost Your Social Media Presence: Famegrows Leads the Pack

In today's digital era, social media has become an indispensable tool for individuals and businesses alike to connect, engage, and promote. Whether you're an influencer looking to expand your reach or a brand aiming to increase visibility and engagement, Social Media Marketing (SMM) panels offer a convenient and efficient way to achieve your goals.

Among the plethora of SMM panels available, Famegrows stands out as a leading platform, offering comprehensive solutions tailored to meet the diverse needs of its users. Let's dive into the top 10 SMM panels, with Famegrows taking the spotlight for its exceptional features and services.

Famegrows SMM Panel: Famegrows takes the crown for its user-friendly interface, extensive range of services, and global payment options. With a wide array of payment methods including Binance Pay, cryptocurrencies, Payeer, Perfect Money, and Airtm, Famegrows ensures a seamless experience for users worldwide, eliminating barriers to access and enabling hassle-free transactions.

SMMHut: SMMHut ranks high on the list for its reliability and affordability. With a wide array of services covering major social media platforms, SMMHut caters to individuals and businesses of all sizes. Whether you're looking to boost engagement or increase followers, SMMHut offers packages to suit every requirement and budget.

Peakerr: Known for its fast delivery and quality service, Peakerr is a popular choice among social media enthusiasts. With competitive prices and real-time analytics, Peakerr allows users to track the performance of their campaigns and make informed decisions to optimize results.

JustAnotherPanel: JustAnotherPanel stands out for its versatility, offering services not only for mainstream social media platforms but also for niche networks. With customizable packages and responsive customer support, JustAnotherPanel ensures a personalized experience for users seeking targeted growth strategies.

SMM-Heaven: SMM-Heaven earns its spot on the list for its reliability and transparent pricing. With a user-friendly interface and secure payment options, SMM-Heaven makes it easy for users to purchase services and track their orders in real-time.

BulkCheapService: As the name suggests, BulkCheapService offers cost-effective solutions without compromising on quality. With a diverse range of services and flexible packages, BulkCheapService caters to both individuals and resellers looking to maximize their ROI.

SMM Panel Pro: SMM Panel Pro excels in providing tailored solutions for influencers, businesses, and agencies. With advanced targeting options and detailed analytics, SMM Panel Pro empowers users to reach their desired audience and achieve tangible results.

SMM Reseller Panel: SMM Reseller Panel stands out for its comprehensive range of services and white-label solutions. Whether you're a freelancer or an agency, SMM Reseller Panel offers customizable packages to meet your specific needs and scale your business effectively.

SMMBaba: SMMBaba earns its place on the list for its commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. With a dedicated support team and timely delivery, SMMBaba ensures a hassle-free experience for users seeking to enhance their social media presence.

SMMRide: Rounding off the top 10 list is SMMRide, known for its reliability and efficiency. With competitive prices and a user-friendly interface, SMMRide caters to users seeking quick and effective solutions to amplify their social media reach.

In conclusion, the top 10 SMM panels offer a myriad of options for individuals and businesses looking to bolster their social media presence. Among them, Famegrows emerges as a standout choice, thanks to its comprehensive services, user-friendly interface, and global payment options, enabling users from around the world to access its services effortlessly. Whether you're aiming for fame or seeking to grow your business, Famegrows and the other SMM panels on this list provide the tools and support you need to succeed in the ever-evolving world of social media marketing.

[kaaya149]

Buy 3000 Instagram Followers Online at A Cheap Price

You need to gain more followers on Instagram if you want to use it to advertise your goods and services because accounts with a larger following will show up more prominently. Buy 3000 Instagram followers is a popular option for companies and bloggers wishing to promote their goods and services on the platform. Your Instagram account will gain greater recognition and credibility if it has a sizable following. The most well-known website, Famups, provides excellent, reliable, and entertaining services for obtaining three thousand real Instagram followers.                                                                    

[getcheap-views]

Best Website To Buy Fast Instagram Followers in Bulk Cheap

Elevate your social media presence with the best website to buy fast Instagram followers in bulk at cheap prices. Explore Getcheapviews.com for instant and affordable growth.

Buy bulk Instagram followers cheap

Instagram is an ever-growing social media platform that offers numerous opportunities to the businesses and individuals to promote their businesses and themselves. More Instagram followers you get more your profile content will be shared and ultimately more profits in all terms. If not possible organically, you can buy cheap Instagram followers easily and for quick results.

You get the option to add infinite high-quality followers to your Instagram profile being in your budget. Massive likes on your Instagram account attract more followers and hence, more popularity and promotion. It can also lead to boosting your traffic and leads resulting in more profits.

Buy targeted Instagram followers from us and avail hassle-free endorsements for your business. It is a budget-friendly method of reaching to the potential customers that would have otherwise been difficult for you. You can buy instant Instagram followers from trusted sellers at affordable costs and witness your business flourishing.

Instagram is a user-friendly social media platform that gives immense opportunities to the businesses and customers to get connected. If you are getting followers on your, that means your business profile is already reaching a lot of customers. But if you cannot get the likes and followers on your own, there is definitely a need to buy cheap Instagram followers for quick and satisfactory results.

When you can buy Instagram followers cheap and quickly, you don’t have to empty your pockets over high-priced advertising campaigns. Contact us if you want to buy cheap Instagram followers for a clean social reputation and good-quality followers on your Instagram profile.

Contact Us

Saroj Baral Nepal Morang,Pathari-Sanischare-1, 56604

+9779810470185 info@GetCheapViews.com

[smmpanel02]

Smm Panel 2: Unlock Your Instagram Potential - Get Instagram Followers

Ready to take your Instagram game to the next level? Smm Panel 2 is here to help you get Instagram followers that will boost your profile's popularity. Our reliable SMM panel offers genuine and high-quality get Instagram followers to enhance your credibility and increase engagement. With Smm Panel 2, you can effortlessly grow your Instagram audience and attract more organic followers. Don't miss out on the opportunity to maximize your Instagram reach with Smm Panel 2.

[buysocialmarketing]

Looking for high-quality social media marketing services at an affordable price? Look no further than our platform, where you can buy a wide range of social media services including likes, followers, views, and more. Our services are designed to help you increase your social media presence and engage with your audience more effectively. We offer fast and reliable delivery, with 24/7 customer support to help you every step of the way. Choose from a variety of packages to fit your budget and needs, and start boosting your social media profile today with our cheap and effective social media marketing services.

[stone-stars]

Full thread from Sam on the SAG strike and Dropout!

[ID: A thread from Sam on twitter, as follows: "A thread about the strike and Dropout production: 👇✊. I stand in complete and utter solidarity with our striking performers. I myself am SAG-AFTRA, as are others on our executive team, having come from the world of working actors. I am nothing but sympathetic to their cause and outraged by the mafia-like behavior of the major streamers and AMPTP. It is harder than ever to make a living in this industry, and that goes even for the lucky few of us who get to work on meaningful projects.

In the meanwhile… 🤑 Uber-rich CEOs and shareholders are cashing in like never before 💸 Major streamers are gambling millions on dubious projects and business models 🍾 Hollywood is hiding profits and playing the victim while drinking champagne aboard their superyachts

Dropout production is right now on hold. Because we aren't associated with the AMPTP, it's possible we may be able to reach an interim agreement with SAG that allows us to continue to produce content during the strike.

But we'll only do that, obviously, if we get the blessing of the union and the buy-in of our performers. If not, we have enough content in the can to last us a little past the end of the year.

I pride myself in that Dropout has always paid above SAG minimums. As the years go on and the company is healthier, we will strive to do even better, and then even better still. Without the talent of our performers, we are zilch. Zero. Nothing."

Attached is an instagram post from an actor reading: "The Netflix show in question is shorter than a traditional half hour. But @ collegehumor and @ dropouttv paid me MORE than that for one of their scripted series. Dropout was a brand new online platform at the time and they still managed to pay their actors more than NETFLIX for scripted short form content."

Thread continues: "Public companies don't do this for the very simple reason that they feel more indebted to their executives and shareholders than they do their workforce. It's why corporations are so often exploitative. Our industry, because our jobs are so desirable, is especially vulnerable to exploitation. Hollywood takes advantage of that by making us feel generally commoditized, cheap, and replaceable …which is ironic given just how personal our work so often is. That's why unions - and the power of collective bargaining - is so important: because public companies often won't pay their workforce any more than they're forced to.

As for me, I intend to honor my union's position that I not promote SAG productions as a performer -- even if they are produced by me. That means that I won't personally be promoting any of our shows for the time being.

Attached is a screenshot of Sam on Discord responding to the question "given the strike… what picket line chant will you be rockin'?" with "i'm a talent / CEO! me says me has got to go!"

Thread continues: "This year, instead of running a FYC campaign for Game Changer, we donated $10k to the Entertainment Community Fund in solidarity with the WGA. Today, in solidarity with SAG-AFTRA, I'm personally matching that donation with another $10,000. If you have any disposable income, I encourage you to donate as well: https://entertainmentcommunity.org. And as soon as I test negative for COVID, I'll see you on the picket line. ✊"]

[maxwhathappened]

price tag

Lando Norris x reader

warnings: none!

summary: Lando buys you an expensive gift, but you struggle to let him spoil you.

word count: 1.5k

You were going to the FIA awards and Lando was set to win. You were beyond proud of him. You had given Lando a gift before you left Monaco. It was a painting of him kissing his trophy after his first win. You had it commissioned from an artist you found on instagram and framed it for him. It wasn’t much, but it was the best you could do. You, unfortunately, didn’t have a job that paid you millions. 

You just finished getting ready for the evening when Lando walked up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your hands went to cover his, holding them in place. Lando leaned down and pressed a kiss to your jaw before he spoke in the soft tone he reserved for you. 

“Come sit with me. I have a present for you.”

“A present for me?” You asked. “Lan, this is your night.” 

“Yeah, and I like to do things for you,” he replied. You chuckled and followed him out to the couch where a velvet box was sitting on the coffee table. The hotel room was big. They always were when you stayed with Lando. He got the penthouses and suites. There were usually more beds than you needed, but Lando didn’t care. He always wanted to provide you with the best.

You sat down on the couch. Lando picked up the velvet box and held it out to you. He was looking at you with a bright smile across his face. You glanced up at him with panic rising in your chest. The size and velvet on the box alone told you its contents weren’t cheap. 

“Open it,” he requested. You took the box from him. It was heavy. He grinned as you opened it. When you lifted the lid you revealed a necklace. The whole chain was covered in diamonds and three large sapphires were hanging off the diamond chain. You gasped. 

“You like it?” He asked. You were staring down at it with your mouth hanging open. You looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Lando, I can’t take this,” you told him. 

“I want you to have it,” he responded. 

“It’s too much.” 

“It’s not,” he started to assure you. 

“Lan, look at this,” you said and gestured to the necklace. “It must have cost a fortune.” 

“It doesn’t matter what it cost,” Lando said simply. He knew you struggled to let him spoil you the way he was able to. He never really understood it. He did his best to keep things modest for you most of the time. He knew it was what you preferred. He couldn’t help it this time though. He’d walked into the jewelry store to daydream about the engagement rings he could get for you, but when he saw the necklace behind the counter he couldn’t leave it behind. 

“Lando…” You whispered. “This is—” You started to protest. Lando sat down beside you. 

“It’s not too much, and you can take it, love,” Lando said. “Please. Wear it tonight,” he practically begged. A tear fell from your eye. He noticed and quickly wiped it away with his thumb. “Baby?” He called to you softly. “What’s this about?”

“Lando, you can’t give this to me,” you told him. 

“Why?” He asked. “You know I’m good with my money. I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t reasonable,” he said. 

“Reasonable?” You chuckled. “This has to cost more than some houses.” 

“It doesn’t matter how much it was, love. And I’m not going to return it.” 

“I feel bad, Lan,” you started to protest. 

“You don’t need to feel bad when I spend money on you, baby,” he told you. “It’s not the same for me.” 

“That’s exactly the problem, Lan!” You told him. “You buy me all these beautiful things. You take me all around the world and pay for everything and I—” You paused. “I can’t do anything like that for you.” Lando was quiet for a moment.

“That’s what it’s been about this whole time?” He asked. 

“Lando, I barely have anything. The only reason I can get you any decent gifts is because you pay for everything else” 

“I’ve loved everything you’ve ever given me,” he assured you. “I don’t care how much the things you buy me cost you, and you shouldn’t care how much the things I buy you cost me,” he said. 

“That’s not fair, Lan,” you tried. “It’s not the same.”

“Baby, you are the only person I’ve ever dated that doesn’t want me to buy them expensive things,” Lando said. “And it’s nice. It made me feel good the first few times because I knew you weren’t with me for my money.” He took your hand. “But we’ve been together for years now,” he said. “I want to give you things like this.” 

“I just feel bad that I can’t do things like this for you,” you said. Lando put the necklace on the coffee table. He pulled at your hands and made you look him in the eye. 

“Don’t feel bad. I’m with you because I love you,” he said. “Not because of anything you’ll ever buy me.” You started to open your mouth to protest. “And,” he continued. “You’ve given me better gifts than anyone ever has,” he said. 

“Lan, you used to date that millionaire supermodel,” you said. 

“Yeah, and she just bought me a Rolex whenever she got me something.” 

“Just a Rolex,” you said. “One is more than everything I’ve ever given you.” 

“I don’t care. That painting was beautiful. I’d rather have that than a Rolex any day,” he said. “How is that a bad gift?” 

“It barely cost $100,” you said forlornly. 

“I’ll see it everyday and it’ll make me smile every time,” he said. “You’ll only be able to wear the necklace a few times a year.” Lando saw that you were still struggling with it. “Darling,” he called. “Look at me.” You met his eyes.

“Lando, I can’t,” you protested. 

“You can,” he said. “You deserve it,” he said. He sighed when you didn’t respond. “I’m gonna tell you something, but you need to know it’s because I want you to take this.”

“What?” You asked quietly. 

“I never bought anyone a gift half as nice as this,” he said. He saw the mortified expression beginning to spread over your face. “When I got them things they always wanted more from me,” he said. “Nothing I ever got them was enough, because they knew how much I have.” He pushed your hair behind your ear. “You have been terrified every time I spend any money on you. You try to pay for dinners. The people I dated before didn’t even pay for the gifts they bought me.” You screwed your eyebrows together, confused at the concept of buying someone a gift with their money. “You have put thought into everything you have ever given me. My parents barely even do that anymore,” he said. 

“I just—I’ll never be able to get you anything even close to this,” you said.

“When we get married we’ll have one bank account. You won’t be able to tell anymore,” he said. You were quiet. 

“When we get married?” You asked with a smile. Lando chuckled. 

“I suppose I’ve still got to convince you into it.” It was quiet for a moment–a pleasant silence. “Take the necklace, please,” he begged. You looked into his eyes and saw just how bad he wanted you to do this. 

“No more fancy gifts for a year,” you instructed him. Lando smiled softly. “Normal things. Things I could buy you.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he answered. 

“Cross your heart,” you ordered him. He chuckled before raising his hand and drawing an X over his heart. 

“No more fancy gifts for a year,” Lando promised. “Now let me help you put it on.” He took the necklace from the box. You turned so that he could wrap the necklace around your neck, clasping it together. You turned back to face him once he’d gotten it locked. He smiled brightly. He nodded towards the mirror. 

“Go take a look,” Lando told you. You went towards the mirror. You looked at yourself, gasping at the sight of something so grand around your neck. You raised your hand, gently running a finger over the center gem. Lando stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It looks pretty on you.” 

“It looks pretty in the box,” you said with a laugh. 

“You like it then?” He asked. 

“Lando, anyone would like it,” you told him. 

“You’re not just anyone,” he said. 

“I like it,” you assured him. “It’s beautiful, Lan. Look at it.” 

“It’s hard to look at it when I can look at you instead,” he flirted. 

“Nobody else is going to have that problem,” you replied. 

“I don’t think that’s true but it’s alright with me,” he said. “Don’t really want anyone looking at what’s mine anyway.”

divider @sweetmelodygraphics

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests but i wanted to ask if you could write one with Pedro where they're dating but reader is not famous, she is actually a young artist that runs a small business on Instagram. And everyone is shocked that he's with her, but he is so proud of being her boyfriend and is VERY supportive of her both in private and in public. That's, thank you 😊💕

the actor and the artist - pedro pascal x artist! female reader

Summary: you’re hosting your first ever art show and the paparazzi make you wonder if you’re good enough.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content Warning: age gap relationship, insecure reader.

Note: I fking love this request @rosaliedepp *kisses your forehead* I hope you love it. 🫶🏼💜

You remember where you first started, selling your artwork on Etsy, your prices were so cheap they undermined the hours of hard work, pain, sweat and tears that went into them, still you only managed to sell 3 works in about 12 months, you were stumped. Feeling like you should just give up, like it was a lost cause and your art wasn’t really as good as you originally thought it was. Until it happened.

You thought it was a scam at first, these scammers were getting crafty these days and the Pedro Pascal, messaging you on Etsy wanting a custom piece? Come on, didn’t seem likely and you weren’t stupid. You remember asking him to DM you on Instagram, his offical page, giving the email your username on Insta and within minutes receiving a direct message from the Pedro Pascal’s offical Instagram page that at the time, had 2.4 million followers, the white tick surrounded by the blue circle was confirmation it was really him and not some bot, or scammer.

He had been generous in his compliments on your works, even suggested making a business Instagram account to gain more traction, within the hour of messaging he had placed an order and left a very generous tip, he had even followed you and kept in contact regularly upon the arrival of his artwork, you figured it was because he didn’t trust you after he had sent that much money.

It was the opposite of what you thought that kept him talking with you, he thought you were sweet, talented and had real potential and knew he could help you where you needed it; not lacking in talent but recognition. If people actually saw your artwork, people would buy them. And they did, once they saw that Pedro had uploaded an image of your artwork in his house, that he followed you, your page blew up overnight, and you had Pedro to thank for it.

Which leads you to the present, two years later and 12 months of you two officially being a couple, even though things were fairly ‘new’ for the two of you, people had suspected things had been going on for longer. People of course had said their two cents online and you opted to ignore it.

Here you were in the cold evening of New York City, in a gallery room that was cleared just for your artwork, which would be showcased then auctioned, you had heard some big names were invited, ones in which you were terrified to see, let alone meet.

“You doing okay sweetheart?” Pedro’s voice scared you, pulling you back to reality as the room was half filled with people, something you’d failed to notice in your dissociative state. You offer him a smile as he hands you a glass filled with champagne.

“A bit nervous, hoping this will help.” You take a sip, your red lipstick that matches your ruby red silk, spaghetti strap dress, smears on the rim of the glass, you clutch your purse as a last resort for stress relief, feeling the tension build as more people arrive.

“I’m shitting myself, what if they don’t sell, what if they don’t like it? What if they don’t like me?” Your rambling makes Pedro chuckle, he steps towards you, his matching burgundy suit presses against your dress clad skin. His free hand caresses your hand and your hair tickles his fingers as you lean into him.

“They’ll be stupid not to love you, or your artwork. You’ve got this sweetheart.” You look at the genuine look on his face and can’t help but fall in love all over again, this man was truly a blessing in your life.

“You’re right, I’m powerful and wonderful and a fucking great artist. To us baby.” You clink your glasses together before throwing your head back, swallowing the liquid for courage before walking to the stage that had a microphone and your most iconic artwork on the wall behind you.

You’re standing in front of dozens of well known celebrities, but the champagne gives you the courage to smile at them as they watch you with wondering eyes. “Thank you all so much for joint us this evening. It’s truly an honour to host this event and to have you all here. Just a reminder that 35% of all purchases goes to the highest sellers choice of charity.”

The group cheer as you welcome them, pleased by your selflessness to give away money to donate to charity, Pedro is standing by himself off to the left of the stage and you give him a sweet smile.

“I wouldn’t be here without my biggest supporter, he’s changed my life for the better. This is the biggest moment of my life and thank you all for joining me along on this journey. The auction begins in 15 minutes so please don’t go anywhere. Stay and enjoy as long as you like, have a wonderful evening everyone.”

The applause goes straight to your head, people clapping and cheering for you as you walk off the stage, meeting Pedro at his side and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he doesn’t mind that you leave a lip shaped lipstick stain on his skin.

The auction is intense, your latest piece was the biggest success, it was sold for $360,000. That to you, was insane, you had earned that much money on one artwork. The years of hardworking was finally coming to pay off, not to mention one charity of a buyers choice was going to have received a very hefty donation.

“I can’t fucking believe it, that was insane. Thank you so much for coming with me, I couldn’t have done it without you.” You muse as you’re locking up the store, Pedro blushes at your compliment. “You did this all yourself sweetheart, money can’t buy talent.”

You shiver as the cold air hits your bare shoulders, the skin forming goosebumps immediately, your teeth are chatting at the freezing temperatures, curing yourself for not bringing a jacket. Pedro takes off his suit jacket, leaving him in his long sleeve-white button up dress shirt as he wraps the jacket around you, the smell and warmth of him bring you back to reality. The warmth holds you in its grasp.

“You didn’t have to do that, thank you.” You look up at him, thankful for the kind gesture. “Of course I did sweetheart, let’s get you home.” The perfect moment between you was spoiled as you see and hear paparazzi come swarming and shouting in your direction, probably after seeing the event posted online.

“Hey Pedro Pascal! What’s it like dating someone not talented on your level? Is it because you want a normal life?” The man snaps pictures of you and Pedro together, holding hands and Pedro shielding you from the cameras as the flash is blinding you.

“She is more talented than me. She’s an incredible artist, not that I have to justify it. Please leave us alone we’re very tired.” Pedro takes your hand and you try to walk away to get to his car which was parked right outside of the gallery, was it a good idea, no. Was it convenient, yes.

“What’s it like dating someone significantly younger, do you think she’s dating you for the money?” Pedro opens your door and puts your seatbelt on for you, before shutting the door and turning to the men following him.

“She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met, not that it’s any of your business. Goodnight.”

He turns and makes his way to the car, starting it and driving off away from the flashes that blinded his eyes only moments ago. He notices you’re quiet, too quiet.

“Are you okay?” He seemed to be asking that a lot lately.

“I don’t know. They’re just mean, I love you Pedro, I do. I just don’t know how you deal with that- it’s so invasive and just horrible the things they’re saying about me, about us.”

His hand rubs your bare knee as he drives, his eyes not leaving the road until he comes to a red light mere streets from your shared apartment, “don’t listen to a word they say. They’re just looking for a reaction. If you’re happy then we’re good. I know I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you.”

“You always know the right things to say Pedro.”

“I gotta keep my girl happy, don’t I?” You can’t help but smile at the comment, he truly was a blessing.

[seokjinsonlyone]

in which you get cornered...

a follow up to this drabble

When Tae asked if he could post a couple photos of you on Instagram it didn’t seem like a life changing moment. You were vaguely aware of the implications of the action, but you’d gradually shifted out of your social media era over the years so it didn’t seem like that big of a deal to you. Your main concern was making sure he picked pictures where you didn’t look like an ugly little swamp creature because he had a penchant for putting his phone in the worst angle possible at the worst time possible and snapping away. He was annoying like that. 

But, the ones he wanted to post were cute. One was an off guard of you laughing at night on one of your walks, the flash was on but it was that perfect amount of blurry that made it trendy. The second was from your stop at Ikea a few weeks ago. You two were posted up in front of a mirror, you leant back against his chest, his arm secured around your waist. It was kinda hot. Made you two look like some sort of power couple. It was currently your home screen. So, you approved of his selections, liked the post a few days later when you remembered to open up the app, and didn’t think much of it afterwards. That should have been the end of it.

Apparently, it was not.

“I dated Tae last year.”

You look up from the sink where you were washing your hands and over to the girl fixing her lashes a few feet away. You weren’t sure how that concerned you or what you were supposed to do with that information. “Okay?”

“Don’t expect it to last long,” she warned nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s all great in the beginning. He’s super sweet, walks you to class, buys you coffee, all that good stuff. But pretty soon he’s going to get bored of you and he’s gonna drop you just as fast as he picked you up.”

You swiped a few paper towels, mulling over her statement. “It’s Taehyung,” you decided to address first.

And now it was her turn to ask the questions. “What?”

“Like you said, you dated him a year ago, and I have no idea who you even are, so it’s not Tae, he’s Taehyung to you now.” You didn’t like her addressing him so casually as if she had any type of relationship with I’m now. “And I’m not like you so I’m not going to presume to know anything about the nature of your relationship with him, but I’m guessing maybe it didn’t work out because you’re the type to accost people he’s close to in the bathroom.” You shot her a disgusted look and exited the room.

You were off put by the encounter. A little nauseous if you’re being honest because it wasn’t even the first one like it. Well, it was the first of his scorned lovers to approach you (and hopefully the last), but it seemed like everyone had something to say about you and your relationship with him. Even your friends from back home questioned how you bagged him. You know they didn’t mean it in a bad way, that Tae really was just that handsome and great, but everything was starting to get overwhelming, was bristling you in the wrong way.

What’s even worse was that you actually were about to meet him in a little cafe just off campus and you knew he’d be sitting there with a coffee waiting for you just like that girl claimed he did for her. You spent the walk over there frazzled, working yourself into a tizzy, so by the time you got there you were completely over it and him. You saw him looking cute and cozy in his oversized hoodie, waiting in a booth with your coffee reserving the spot next to him. You took the to go cup and tossed it in the trash. “Let’s go,” you commanded, not even making eye contact with him and walking back out the door. 

It took a good twenty seconds before you could hear him catching up to you. “Hey! Hey!” He spun you around to face him. “Umm! That coffee ain’t cheap. Why’d you throw it out?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone and sending him $6 before continuing to stomp away. Of course he was worried about his money and not the fact that you’re so upset that you threw away a perfectly good cup of coffee. Maybe that girl was right. Maybe the end was coming soon. 

“I didn’t mean for you to send me the money,” he huffed trailing behind you. “Can you just- Can we-“ He grabbed your hand to prevent you from getting any further away and dragged you to the bench a few feet away. He tugged you into his lap, his arms completely engulfing you so you had nowhere to go, nowhere to look but right at him. “Now, can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

You stewed in silence for a bit longer before spitting out, “Your ex cornered me in the bathroom.”

“My ex?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flitted around in thought. “Aaliyah?”

You scoffed. “Am I supposed to know her name?”

He breathed out a laugh. “I’m just– I haven’t had a girlfriend since, like, before I graduated? Like, junior year?”

“Well, I’m sure you weren’t walking around this campus celibate for the past 3 years. I don’t know if it was a girlfriend, a hookup, a summer fling– whatever. She said she dated you last year.”

“What’d she look like?”

“Oh my god! That is soooo not the point.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. What’d she say?”

“She told me all about how you used to walk her to class and buy her coffee and then dropped her when you had your fill. Told me to expect the same.”

He had that same lost in thought expression before his eyes lit up in recognition. “Are you talking about Emi?! About 5’6 with the blue black hair? Because we never dated. I helped her study sometimes, but that was it.”

“I mean. I guess. But, you’re not listening to me. I don’t care who you did or did not date. You don’t seem traumatized or jaded enough for me to worry about that.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Well… you don’t believe her, do you?”

You shrugged. “I’ve seen the greatest minds of our generation fall victim to a three month situationship.”

“This isn’t a situation. You’re my girlfriend, and I’m falling in love with you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide as saucers as you stared at him, nowhere near prepared for such an admission.

He unwrapped his arms from around you to cup your face, thumb lightly caressing your cheeks. “Don’t look so surprised. I told you I would,” he said softly before bringing his lips to yours and indulging you in the softest, sweetest kiss you ever had in your life. Pillowy lips slotted between yours, applying just enough pressure so that you know he’s there with you, for you. You melted into him, pressing your forehead against his once he pulled away, hoping he wouldn’t be able to notice how erratic he had your heart beating. He pressed another kiss to your cheek. “Now, what’s really the problem?”

You wriggled your arms out of his hold, to wrap around his neck and sighed. “I just don’t understand why.”

“I don’t know why she would do that either, baby.”

“No. I don’t understand why you like me. They always say don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answer to, so I didn’t. Didn’t wanna jinx it, but now it seems like everyone has something to say about us. No one understands why you’re with me, and I don’t either.”

He was silent for a few moments which you appreciated because you wanted a real answer. “I think you’re a really intimidating person. Like, you always look like you don’t wanna be bothered. Kinda mean, to be honest.”

“That’s just my face.”

“I know that now, but I’m saying when I first met you, you just seemed unfriendly and standoffish.”

“Okay. I get it. I’m unapproachable. Can you skip to the part where you tell me why you like me?”

He breathed out a laugh. “I mean, I don’t know. You’ve got that tsundere thing going on that kinda does it for me.”

You blinked at him.

“I’m serious! You act like you’re all big and bad, but really you’re just my baby.” You pouted. “See,” he stole a quick kiss, “so cute.” He was silent for a few more moments, simply enjoying the feel of you scratching lightly at his scalp before he started talking again. “And even when we were just friends, I could tell how much you cared about me. About everyone, really. And you care for people in the way they understand even if they take it for granted sometimes. It made me want to care about you, too.”

You cuddled him to you, satisfied with his answer. “I’m sorry for throwing away the coffee you got me.” 

He squeezed you tighter. “It’s okay.”

“And block Emi, please. I’m pretty sure she cornered me because of your post.” 

He opened his account and handed you his phone instead. “You can go through and remove whoever you think is gonna give you trouble.”

And in that moment you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling in love with him, too.

a/n: i blame tae's constant lives and boyfriend looks for this like what am i to do but to write about it 😔✊

[foundress0fnothing]

Summary: Looking to rebuild her self-esteem after a messy breakup, Feyre takes Mor up on her suggestion to visit a lingerie store.

~6.5k words, rated E, content warnings for mild dub-con, light bondage

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Happy birthday to my darling @popjunkie42!!! Thank you for being such a wonderful person and the best beta around. I hope you enjoy this smutty, goofy one-shot. I was planning to save it for feysand week, but it was done just in time for your birthday and I couldn’t resist. I cherish you and the feysand brainrot you've encouraged in me, and I'm so grateful for your friendship 💕🥰

“Just trust me, okay?” Mor had warned her on the drive over that La Cour des Cauchemars was, quote, “an experience,” but even so, as Feyre stood at the threshold of the boutique next to her friend and surveyed the labyrinthine space within, she suspected that Mor had not been entirely transparent about what exactly she meant by “experience.”

It was lovely, at least—surprisingly light and airy for a lingerie store, smelling of sea salt and citrus that, paired with the gauzy fabrics and fairy lights and burnished mirrors that were set up around the space, made the space feel sensual and inviting. With the store’s name, she had expected something dark and edgy, something that played up angst and lust in equal measure. But this…

Feyre shouldn’t have been surprised. It was exactly the kind of place that Mor would love—decadent and luxurious, slightly sinful, and, most importantly, expensive. Feyre didn’t need to look at the price tags to know that every scrap of lace and boning in the building would be priced on par with, if not more than, the La Perla sets Tamlin used to buy her just so he could rip them off. 

She mentally recoiled at the thought of him, although she supposed he was partly responsible for her presence here in the first place. Their relationship had been messy, their breakup messier, especially as more and more details about his infidelity came to light. When she left, she hadn’t taken much with her beyond a few comfortably worn clothes and the tub of art supplies she had been accumulating since she was a student at Prythian U. She left everything else behind—the gifted dresses, the custom jewelry, the Instagram gallery of romantic dates—all those hallmarks of the façade of easy wealth and passionate love that Tamlin wanted to present to the world that still failed to mask the rot at the core of their relationship.

So, three bottles of cheap wine deep into their good riddance to cheating assholes celebration, when she confessed to Mor that she missed feeling like herself and in control of her life, she expected her friend to sympathize, to reaffirm that she was “better off without that scumbag, babe,” to maybe (assuming she was sober enough in the morning to remember) send a motivational tiktok about the importance of “self-care” on her “healing journey.” 

But Feyre didn’t think that this could possibly fall under the guise of “self-care.’ “Mor, I…”

“That doesn’t sound like trust, Feyre.”

Feyre snorted. “It’s just that—”

“No. You wanted to move past him and feel like yourself again? This is the best way to do that,” she said, grabbing Feyre’s hand and dragging her into the store. Feyre rolled her eyes. Trust Mor to think that her problems could be solved with clothes shopping. Assuming lingerie counted as clothes. “Find one thing. One. We’re not leaving until you do. And,” she paused, “once it’s yours you can take a few pics and make Tamlin regret literally his entire life, and then we’ll go get deliriously day drunk to celebrate.” With that, she squeezed Feyre’s hand and let go, moving into the recesses of the store with enviable ease. 

Feyre stuck her tongue out at Mor’s back, not that she would see or care, and started following her into the boutique, passing racks of lace and silk that were loosely arranged by color and letting her hands graze the fabrics, buttery and slick beneath her fingertips. 

She stopped as her hand caught on a red bustier and she savored the feeling of cool silk broken up by delicately stitched whorls of black lace. It was nice, but more than that, it was exactly the kind of thing that Tamlin would have hated. He preferred to see her in pastels, floral and lacy and frothy and soft, meant to remind them both that she was delicate, feminine, fragile. But this piece was something else, something that felt more her. Or, at any rate, the version of her that she was trying to find again—someone self-assured and powerful and strong. 

Idly, she flipped over the tag and almost laughed aloud at the price. She had known it would be expensive, but $900 for so little clothing seemed ridiculous, even for someone as ridiculous as Mor. 

“See something you like, darling?” 

Feyre started at the sound of the man’s voice behind her, yanking her hands away from the bustier as if he might scold her for even daring to touch it. She turned to face him, an unconscious apology already half-formed—and then stopped, mouth parted slightly as whatever she had been going to say died on her lips. 

He was gorgeous—tall and dark, with eyes that she swore almost looked purple in the soft light of the store. She let her gaze travel over him, cataloging the strong lines of his legs, the golden rings that glinted on a few of his fingers, the night black waistcoat that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the narrow dip of his waist. God, she wanted to paint him—a study of darkness given breath, she thought idly—if only for the excuse to let herself savor every inch of his perfect body.

The sound of a slight cough brought her back to reality, and she saw the man’s mouth curve into a smirk, obviously delighted at having caught her staring. “Well, darling? Something you like?” 

Feyre scowled and flushed. Fuck. She absolutely did not need to get involved with another self-satisfied man who would expect her to cater to his ego and fawn over him, no matter how pretty this one was.

Trying to salvage some semblance of her dignity, she made a show of dragging her gaze over the man’s body before offering him a smirk of her own. “Not a thing.”

If anything, her answer only made him look even more delighted. “I didn’t take you for a liar.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning away from him back to the rack of red satin. “I don’t think you could take me at all.”

His smirk grew sharper, more dangerous. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Feyre looked over her shoulder and glared at him, ignoring the flutter she felt at the menace in his voice and internally berating herself for encouraging the stranger. “Stop calling me darling.”

“Not until I know your name.” He raised a brow expectantly. “What’s your name, love?”

As if she would give it to him. She turned around to face him.“Don’t you have something better to do then calling random women ‘darling’ or ‘love’? Someone to buy something for here?”

“I don’t actually.” He smiled. “I am merely here to serve.” He inclined his head slightly in a mockery of a bow.

“So you work here?”

“After a fashion.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes. Whatever the fuck that meant. “Shouldn’t you be helping customers, then?”

“What do you think it is I’m doing, darling?”

“Annoying me.”

“Another lie? Shameful.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock reproach. She rolled her eyes, choosing not to allow him to goad her into continuing their argument.

He raised his hands. “Well, if you decide to do more than look, there are dressing rooms in the back. I’d be more than happy to help you.” He paused, and then, with an absolutely sinful smile, added, “With whatever you might need.”

“I’m sure you would.” Feyre gave him a fake smile, determined to ignore the way something low in her stomach clenched at his offer. He was just an attractive man, and it had been a while. Nothing more.

“I mean it. It’s tricky to get the sizing and the colors right, darling. This,” he held up the red bustier she had been eyeing, a flash of something—sincere?��lighting his eyes as he looked at it, “is divine, of course. But not for you. You should let me help you.”

Taken aback by his apparent earnestness, Feyre frowned slightly. “I’m sure I can manage.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Confident, are we? Not everyone has the eye for it.”

Never mind. Just another condescending prick. “I’m an artist. I think I can trust my own eye.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Well then, darling,” he raised his hands in defeat. “Happy hunting.” With that, he turned smoothly on his heel and began walking back into the recesses of the store.

And if she glanced over her shoulder to check out his ass as he walked away? Well, she was only human.

But as if the man could feel her eyes on him, he paused and looked back, smiling at  catching her ogling him. Again. He settled himself against a display of crystal-adorned black silk negligees and lacy two-piece sets, looking far too at home amidst the silks and the sheer fabrics, and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Get on with it then.

Feyre huffed, irritated that he had once again caught her staring, and spun back around to face the rack of clothing in front of her, her eye landing on the bustier she had been studying before. She pulled it off of the rack, because fuck him, and began moving toward the back of the store where he had indicated the fitting rooms were. Did she have the money for this? Hell no. Was she about to let a man bully her into choosing something else while he watched? Also hell no. She would try on the bustier—which would look fucking incredible on her, by the way, asshole—take a few pictures for her Instagram, and leave before he could corner her again. Easy.

Much like the rest of the store, the fitting room was a study in sensual elegance. The light was a touch brighter, perhaps, but still—there was something almost ethereal about the space—maybe it was in the way the just opaque enough curtains fluttered as she walked past, and Feyre buzzed with anticipation as she stepped into a room and pulled the curtain shut. Fuck you, Tamlin. 

Shucking off her oversized sweater and piling it in the chair in the corner of her room, Feyre shimmied into the bustier, awkwardly fiddling with the zipper in the back until the two halves of the garment pulled together to envelop her torso snugly.

Feeling jittery, she turned to study her reflection.

She looked … fine. The bustier fit her well enough, dipping in easily at her waistline and cupping her breasts decently well, even if it didn’t make them look like anything special. Nothing about it was special. She frowned at her reflection. Maybe the color was wrong for her? Too bright? Too harsh? 

She fiddled with it for a minute or two, smoothing and tugging at the fabric before giving up. It was good enough for what she needed. It’s not like she was planning to buy the ridiculous thing. And besides, it was probably just that asshole clerk getting in her head.

Deciding that it would all look better if she let her hair down to soften the look, Feyre gently coaxed it from its habitual braid, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she finger-brushed some of the strands, trying to get them to lay right. 

As she messed with her hair, a little sign to the side of the mirror caught her eye: NOTICE: NO PHOTOS OR VIDEO ALLOWED IN THE DRESSING ROOM.

Feyre wrinkled her nose at the sign. Wasn’t that the whole reason Mor brought her here? To take a picture in some lingerie as a “fuck you, look what you’re missing” to Tamlin? Did she know about the policy?

She sighed. What a waste.

But…

How would the store know? Feyre flicked her eyes up to scan the ceiling to make sure that there were no cameras. Nothing—just gauzy swathes of fabric and fairy lights. Good. The store may be expensive as hell, but at least whoever ran it wasn’t some kind of pervy creep.

And what harm could one picture do anyway? It’s not like Feyre was some influencer who was going to try and promote her brand while taking advantage of the store. She just needed Tamlin to want to die a little. That’s all.

Before she could lose her nerve, Feyre rummaged in her pants pocket to find her phone. It was an old model from before she met Tamlin. She didn’t trust any of the phones he had given her not to have some creepy location or data monitoring built in, and she didn’t have the money to buy a new one right now. So good ol’ faithful (that didn’t get a signal on cloudy days) it was. Flicking to the camera, she started moving through poses—torso and face, full body, hand in her hair, hand on her hip, even the too desperate peace-sign-tongue-out pose that saw her and Mor through college—taking pictures all the while. 

Hopeful that something in the photo reel would work, she began idly flicking through them—too smiley, too dead-eyed, okay, god why was she making that face, until finally, hot. Thank fuck. She quickly opened Instagram and drafted a post, tweaking the lighting and the shadows here and there until it looked perfect—sultry and effortlessly hot as hell, topped off with the caption, “Tell her about me.”

She was just about to post it when a deep voice startled her.

“Well, huntress? Pleased with your catch?”

Feyre jumped at the unexpected sound, fumbling the phone in her hands. 

“Shit, no—” Feyre winced as she watched it clatter onto the lacquered marble floor and slide just past the edge of the curtain, praying to whoever might be listening that it hadn’t cracked beyond repair.

“Let me.” Feyre heard the subtle shifting of the stranger’s body as he bent to retrieve her phone, and she waited, expecting him to slide it back to her under the curtain.

But no phone came. Instead, there were a few beats of silence before the man spoke again, his voice now gone cold. “I knew you’d be a liar, darling.”

“Wait, what?” Feyre asked, confused at his shift in tone. 

And then she remembered what had been open on her phone. The picture.

“Oh, um, I’m so—”

But her apology was cut short by the man who, wrenching the curtain open, stood before her. With his arms bracketing the door frame, he took up almost the entirety of the open space, and for a moment, Feyre appreciated anew how big he truly was.

And then the reality of the situation set back in. “What the fuck?” She yelped, bringing her hands to her chest in an attempt to cover herself.

“I thought you said you were an artist—”

“Get out!”

“—but no self-respecting artist would be satisfied with something as pedestrian as this.” The distaste was evident in his voice as he appraised the post, and she saw him delete it before casually slipping her phone into his pocket. “I mean really, darling.”

Feyre glared at him. “I’m sorry, are you mad about the quality of the picture? That’s what—” She interrupted herself and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Obviously.” Even though she was more than a little irritated that he had the gall to call her ‘pedestrian.’ “I’ll delete the picture, just get out!” 

But he remained standing in the door, examining her with a critical eye before turning his attention to his nails instead. “I just think an ‘artist’ would aim higher with her clumsily executed thirst trap, don’t you?”

“It was not clumsy, oh my god—”

He interrupted her. “But what do I know? Perhaps whatever little boy you intended this for doesn’t know any better, darling.”

Well, he was right about that. Not that Feyre was going to let him know—or that she agreed. “Good thing it wasn’t for you then.” 

A feline smile curved over his face, and Feyre realized that he had goaded her into arguing with him while he was still in her dressing room and she was still mostly naked. Nice work, babe. Feyre had to get out before she made an ill-advised decision just because she liked arguing with pretty men. So she ignored the excited flutters in her stomach and said, as forcefully as she could, “How many times do I have to tell you? Get out! Do I have to call someone?”

“Do I?” He asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“You’re in my dressing room!”

At that, his smile turned mean. “I think you’ll find, darling,” he said, the pet name taking on a mocking quality, “that this dressing room, that bra, and this entire boutique belong to me. So it seems to me that we have two options.” He held up one ring-adorned finger. “One: you can get dressed, walk to the counter, buy the bustier that looks absolutely dreadful on you, and leave my store “Or,” he continued, gracefully lifting another finger, “you let me dress you. And then we take that picture.”

“What?” Feyre swore she heard him wrong. Did he just offer to…dress her?

He tutted. “I’ll simplify it for you, darling, don’t worry.” Feyre rolled her eyes at his condescending tone. “I just want what belongs to me. Either the money or you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Then I’ll meet you at the counter”

“Oh my god,” Feyre sighed, half to herself. What the fuck had she gotten herself into? “Look, I don’t have $900 right now. Can I—I can bring it to you later?”

He tilted his head, a predator surveying his prey. “No.”

“Why not?”

The man shrugged lazily. “My store, my rules.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

“Such harsh language, love. Surely you can work it out. There were only two options after all.”

“I’m not going to be some plaything for you to dress up.” Feyre ignored what saying the word ‘plaything’ in reference to herself made her feel. Those were not normal feelings. Those feelings would get her into trouble. The situation could get figured out in a normal, non-deviant way that also didn’t force her into dropping nearly $1000 she didn’t have on apparently lackluster lingerie. Probably.

The man appraised her, moving to lean his weight on the door frame and crossing his arms. “Why not? I take very good care of what’s mine.” Feyre felt her traitorous heart flutter. “So be mine.”

“I—” Fuck. What should she do? She didn’t want to just agree. Also, where the fuck was Mor? Mor! “I could call my friend, and she could bring the money.” She owed Feyre after subjecting her to this experience.

He hummed. “You don’t have a phone, darling.”

“Because you have my phone.”

The man just shrugged, unrepentant. Feyre glared at him. He looked coolly back. Maybe she could wait him out? Mor had to be looking for her at this point.

A few beats of silence passed between them, neither backing down.

But then he broke the silence. “Decide, darling. There’ll be no other options.”

Feyre sighed. Was she really about to let him dress her? She didn’t have $1000. And…and this was his job anyway, right? So maybe he would keep it professional. And maybe this would mean that she could get a better picture, and that would be worth putting up with his nonsense. Hopefully. So she mumbled, resignedly, “Fine.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Mmmm, not ‘god,’ but I appreciate the flattery.” He pushed off of the door frame and stood up straight, gesturing to himself in introduction. “Rhysand. Rhys to my friends. Or my lovers.” He purred the final word.

“Okay?” She didn’t know why he was bothering to tell her name. It’s not like she actually cared. Much. He looked at her expectantly, and she rolled her eyes at him. Again. “I’m yours.”

“Use my name.”

“Are you serious? Fine, I’m yours, Rhysand.” 

She said his name with as much bored derision as possible, but he didn’t seem to care. He only smiled and said, “Then we have a bargain.” 

And he stepped forward and pulled the curtain shut behind him, enclosing the two of them in the dressing room. Feyre backed up until she felt the cold glass of the mirror hit her back and the garment hooks just brush the top of her hair.

He studied her, reaching into his pocket for a tailor’s measuring tape and slowly unwinding the roll. “Well, darling? Strip.”

Feyre blanched slightly. “I thought you could just measure me over this?”

“And risk an inaccurate sizing? No.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t. Strip.”

God, maybe he was a creep who got off on seeing a customer's tits. “Fine.” She twisted her arm behind her back to get the zipper, and in doing so had to lean closer into Rhysand. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but he kept his eyes on her face, even as the bustier opened and she let it fall to the ground at their feet.

“Good girl.” Feyre felt something rush through her body at his words—sweet and cloying like molten honey—and she shifted slightly as she stood under the weight of his gaze. Her nipples hardened, and she cursed her body for betraying how the words made her feel.

“Now arms above your head.”

Slightly dazed, Feyre started to lift her arms, happy to follow his authoritative voice. And then she paused, blinking back into awareness. “I don’t think this is how a fitting is supposed to go.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “It’s a proprietary technique, darling, don’t argue.” He motioned for her to continue. 

Well, in for a penny. Feyre lifted her arms above her head.

“Now stay still.”

“Wh—” But before Feyre could get her question out, he had grabbed both her wrists with one hand and, with the other, looped his tape measure around them in a complicated series of motions, securing her arms to one of the hooks above her head. 

“Perfect,” he purred, finally breaking her gaze and letting his eyes trail down her body. 

Rhysand didn’t move to touch her yet, but she shivered under his attention anyway. His expression was hungry and calculating and more than a little smug as he catalogued the way he affected her—her peaked nipples and the goosebumps that broke out across her skin and the hitch in her breath. She felt on-edge and keyed up as she stood there, waiting for whatever he was about to do. Was this some elaborate revenge plot for breaking the store’s rules? Or was this actually how he did fittings? Would he touch her? Did she want him to? Feyre wasn’t sure she was ready to find out. 

He didn’t leave her wondering for long. “I’m going to touch you now, darling.”

She wasn’t surprised, really, but she grimaced anyway. “Do you have to?” She pulled on her bindings to see if there was any give, wondering if she could still call this whole experience too fucking weird and walk away. She could probably charge the cost to her card and leave before he realized that she wasn’t good for it. Right? But the binding didn’t give at all, and Feyre stopped pulling after her first few experimental yanks proved fruitless.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow at her attempt to free herself, his amused disapproval clear on his face, although he didn’t comment on it. “I’m flattered by your faith in my abilities if you think I can do this without touching you.” 

She rolled her eyes and pulled on her bindings again. “Well, it’s not like you’re going to use a tape measure.” 

“It’s already in use, darling.” There was a pleased glint in his eyes as they flicked up to her bound hands.

Feyre huffed, irritated by the smug look on his face. “No, this cannot be—”

But Rhysand cut her off, pressing a long, ringed finger to her lips to still them. She was so startled by its intrusion and the sheer command in the action that she stopped protesting for a moment. 

He moved his hand to cup her cheek. It was surprisingly tender and intimate for what they were to each other, and she had to steel herself against a crazy urge to nuzzle into his touch. “Trust me.”

“I don’t know you.” 

“I don’t care.” And with that, he finally reached for her.

Feyre was well-endowed, but his hands were still large enough that they easily covered her breasts, and she gasped at the contrast of his warm hands and cold rings against her skin. It felt like he was everywhere—overwhelming and insufficient all at once—as he mapped the contours of her body. 

She had just grown accustomed to the sensation of him touching her when Rhysand shifted and began to tease her nipples. The surprise of the heat that flashed through her made her shamelessly arch into his touch with a breathy sigh, and he smirked at his effect on her. “Do you still doubt my abilities, darling?”

“Yes.” She bit out, just as he leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, forcing her to stifle a moan.

He released it, flicking his eyes up to hers, although he brought his hands up to tease her as he asked, “Do you want me to stop?” 

Feyre didn’t answer him, not daring to admit that she actually liked this. She was only still here because of fucking Tamlin and fucking Mor and because she didn’t fucking have enough money to buy her way out of the mess they’d encouraged her to make. That was all. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant if she admitted that some depraved part of her was actually enjoying what Rhysand was doing and it wasn’t just her body reacting to his touch. It would be better if she didn’t acknowledge his question at all. Maybe he’d just keep going and she could have the plausible deniability of just being along for the ride.

But as the silence stretched out, Rhysand’s hands stilled while he waited for her answer, and when none came, he asked again, more forcefully, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” The answer slipped out of her unbidden. But it was true—no one had touched her like this before. His hands were everything, and they were making her insane, and besides, it had been so long—even since before her breakup with Tamlin—that she had felt this damn good from anything beside her own hand that the thought of stopping this bliss was unthinkable.

“Thank the Mother,” he growled. “These are a gift, darling. A revelation. It would be a crime to do anything but worship them.” And then he did, groping and teasing and tasting until Feyre thought she might shatter with need and desire from just the attention he gave her breasts.

But right as she felt the beginnings of an orgasm start to build, Rhysand withdrew his hands and took a step away, a satisfied smile blooming on his face as he took in flushed face and the devastation she knew must be flashing in her eyes at the loss of contact.

Half-mindless, she whimpered and shamelessly pulled forward against her wrist bindings, straining toward where he stood as if that could entice him to come back and finish what he started.

But he only hushed her with a reprimanding cluck of his tongue. “We don’t want the other customers to hear you, do we?” 

She glared at him in response, still reeling from the unsatisfied ache that pulsed between her legs. 

Rhysand smiled back at her, looked her over, and then nodded. “I know exactly the piece for you.”

And with that, he pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the fitting room, leaving Feyre panting and needy and still tied to the garment hook on the wall.

“Rhysand.” She whisper-shouted. The absolute asshole left the curtain open. There was a mirror in one of the other rooms across the way, and Feyre had no choice but to look at herself, naked and flushed and helpless. Anyone who came in to try on something would see the same thing—she couldn’t move or hide or even cover herself with her hands. She cursed Rhysand and staunchly ignored the traitorous wetness she could feel pooling between her thighs.

It seemed like ages before he returned, long enough that she had contemplated shouting for Mor to come and rescue her. They had been friends long enough that they had seen each other in various states of undress over the years. What was another look at each other’s boobs between friends anyway? Sure, Mor would have prime mockery material for the rest of their lives, but the longer Feyre hung there, the less she cared. 

But just as she was steeling herself to start yelling, Rhysand stepped back into her line of sight.

He smirked at her. “Well, look at you, darling.” The hunger hadn’t left his gaze. He still looked every inch the predator as he let his gaze sweep over her naked form. “What a perfect girl for staying here, tied up and waiting for me.”

“This was not part of our agreement,” she spat at him.

Rhysand only arched an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Feyre was about to snap back at him, but then a glint caught her eye, and she finally noticed what he was holding.

It was a bustier, black as night, and she wondered briefly if it had been one of the pieces he had perched near as he watched her in the store. She couldn’t see much of it yet, but from the way it sparkled under the dressing room lights, she assumed that the garment was adorned with intricate beadwork as if someone had spilled starlight across the fabric. She knew, even without trying it on, that it would be seductive and sexy and slightly wicked, and that she would absolutely love it.

But fuck, she hated Rhysand for being right. Prick.

“Step in, darling.” He stooped down and held open the bustier near her feet.

Feyre rolled her eyes but still obediently lifted one leg and then the other, allowing him to pull the material over her legs and up her torso. The sensation of his hands as they skirted against the sides of her body had her twitching, the phantom memory of her ruined orgasm making her core flutter piteously.

Once the bustier was around her, Rhysand crowded further into her space and reached his arms around her to pull at the laces in the back. “I need to lace it up, love.”

This close, she could see the delight in his annoyingly purple eyes, could trace the faint stubble that dotted his chin, could breathe in his scent of sea salt and citrus. It was heady and intoxicating, and the combination of it and the proximity of his body had Feyre nearly keening from desire again. 

“Rhys…” Feyre whined, and she didn’t know if she was asking for him to hurry up lacing her or to finally give her the pleasure he had teased her with, but either way, she was tired of waiting. She wanted to see what he would make of her. 

Standing this close, she caught the way that his name on her lips—the name his lovers called him—made his breath catch just slightly. And some vindictive part of her was pleased that she wasn’t the only one affected by what was happening between them in the dressing room.

He didn’t stop his work, however, and his hands made quick, deft work of the laces behind her until he nodded and stepped back a pace, looking her over as he did so. “All done, darling.”

Feyre waited for him to say something else—to praise his work or mock her for how she looked or offer some other depraved choice that she’d somehow get roped into.

But nothing came. He just stood in front of her, staring fixedly.

She glanced down at herself. Everything looked normal from her vantage point—nothing bulged out or cut in or gaped, and so, reasonably confident that the issue here wasn’t with her, she swung her gaze up to him. “Well?”

“See for yourself, love.” And then he stepped aside, leaving Feyre to look at herself in the mirror across the way once again.

She was still tied up like some wanton plaything, but—it was different somehow, now. The bustier wrapped around her like a second skin, following the curves of her waist and her hips that somehow made both look sinfully exaggerated, while the top of it dipped down low between her breasts while arching up high on either side in delicate points that were flared and tapered almost like bat wings. The entire garment was covered in the black sequins and gems that had caught her eye before, adding some dimension and texture to the otherwise monochrome color scheme.

And it all came together to make the woman in the mirror look fierce and wicked and alluring and powerful somehow, even caught as she was. It was everything Feyre had wanted when she let Mor drag her here in the first place.

Her eyes flicked over to Rhys who was leaning against the side of the fitting room door, still just watching her.

He tilted his head. “Pleased?”

“Yes. I—” She paused, realizing that she had almost thanked him for tying her up and touching her and coercing her into agreeing to all of it. As if.

Rhys nodded, apparently unconcerned with whatever she had been about to say. “Now, there’s just one more thing we need to do before you take that picture.” He took a step back toward her.

Feyre blinked. “Wait, what?”

The smile he gave her was unholy. “You need to look the part, darling.”

And then his hands were on her again, skimming over her breasts and down her sides until she felt him start to tease her inner thighs, straying closer and closer to her core until she realized exactly what part he meant. 

She had been performing in her picture before, playacting lust and sensuality and desire. Rhys wanted it to be real.

“Wait, Rhys—” But Feyre’s protest was cut off by the brush of his finger against her clit, and the bolt of sheer pleasure that shot through her stilled the words in her mouth.

“Let me, darling.” He continued exploring her as he said the words, dipping his fingers lower to gather some wetness before bringing them back to her clit and starting to rub in firm, tight circles.

It felt perfect and right and necessary, and so Feyre did, giving herself over to whatever Rhys had in store for her.

He grinned as he sensed her resistance melting away and began to play with her clit in earnest, rubbing and stroking until Feyre was nearly insane from the desire and the pleasure coursing through her. It was like he had never stopped his teasing from earlier, for far too quickly, Feyre was needy and shivering and shaking as she hung from the garment hook.

“Please—Rhys…I need—” Her voice was breathy and desperate, but Feyre didn’t care. She just needed to come.

“I know, love, I know. Come for me.” He whispered the command in her ear, his hand still working her clit, and Feyre shattered.

It was intense and all-consuming, and, tied up as she was, Feyre had no choice but to let herself be overtaken by the pleasure that coursed through her.

She could still feel her core fluttering when Rhysand stepped away again and smoothly slid her phone out of his pocket.

“Now, let’s take that picture.”

A few minutes later, Feyre found herself standing at the store’s counter as Rhys packaged up the bustier she had reluctantly agreed to take home with her—on the house, of course, he had told her with a wink. She was dressed in her regular clothes once again, grateful that the baggy sweater hid the faint marks on her wrists from Rhys’ tape measure.

“Feyre!” A voice cried out from behind her, and she turned to see Mor striding toward them. “Girl, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

“I—” Feyre didn’t know what to say. I’ve been a little tied up? I think maybe I saw God back in those fitting rooms? She didn’t want to admit to either of those things.

But thankfully, Mor didn’t wait for her answer. “Oh, did you find something?”

“She did.” Rhys’ smooth voice cut in, and then he nodded at Mor. “Cousin.”

“Cousin,” Mor replied, sticking her tongue out at him. “This is Feyre—she’s the friend I told you about.”

They were—what. the. fuck. 

“Pleased to finally meet you, Feyre, darling.” He put extra emphasis on her name now that he finally knew it, and she glowered at him over the counter.

“Did you buy it?” Mor asked excitedly, trying to peek into the small black bag. “Will it work for your revenge picture?”

Before she could answer, Rhys smirked at her. “I think she found exactly what she needed.”

Feyre glared at him and nodded at Mor, choosing not to acknowledge the pulse of interest that reignited between her thighs. 

Mor’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them as a pleased smile bloomed on her face as she realized that something was going on. “Oh, I knew you two would hit it off. See what happens when you trust me, Fey?”

Feyre snorted. The bag on the counter and the marks on her wrists and the ache between her thighs proved exactly what trusting Mor got her.

Not that she minded, necessarily. But still—it would be quite a while before she let herself get roped into another scheme like this one.

Mor pulled out her phone to check the time. “It’s time for drinks! We need to celebrate!” And with that, she grabbed Feyre’s arm and pulled her out of the store as Rhys looked on with a smirk.

As they sat down at a bar a few minutes later, Feyre’s phone pinged with a notification from Instagram. Her picture had gotten quite a few likes already, and friends had commented various combinations of fire emojis and hearts and marriage proposals that made her laugh. 

And there was a comment from her newest follower, one highlordrhys: “You make my clothes look like art, darling.” 

Feyre scoffed lightly at the presumption of the comment (although, to his credit, she did look good—flushed and relaxed from her orgasm, her body arching deliciously with her hands still tied up above her head) before noticing a dm from the same account. More quickly than she would care to admit, she opened it and saw that Rhys had sent her his number with the message “Call me the next time you need help looking the part, darling 😉.”

She swore she wouldn’t and closed the app without sending anything back. 

But she saved his number first. Just in case.

[jamescartersocioboosters]

In the competitive world of Instagram, gaining followers can be a challenging task. Buying real USA Instagram followers can provide you with the initial boost needed to kickstart your journey towards social media success. Remember always to prioritize engaging content and authentic interactions with your audience. With the right approach, you can leverage bought followers to establish a thriving online presence.

Visit US:- https://www.socioboosters.com/product/buy-usa-instagram-followers/

[sociocosmos]

Sociocosmos: Your One-Stop Shop for Social Media Growth

Are you struggling to gain a significant following on social media platforms like Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, or Twitter? Look no further than Sociocosmos, the ultimate platform for buying social media presence.

Why Choose Sociocosmos?

Authentic Engagement: Our services ensure you get real, active followers and likes, boosting your credibility and reach.

Diverse Platform Support: Whether you’re on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, or Twitter, we have solutions tailored to your platform.

Affordable Packages: Choose from a variety of packages to suit your budget and growth goals.

Fast Delivery: Experience rapid results and start seeing an increase in your social media presence immediately.

Secure and Reliable: Your privacy and security are our top priority. We offer a safe and reliable platform for your social media growth needs.

How it Works:

Choose a Package: Select the package that aligns with your desired social media goals.

Provide Details: Share your social media account information.

Place Your Order: Complete the payment process.

Enjoy Growth: Sit back and watch your social media presence soar.

Start Your Social Media Journey Today:

Don’t let your competition outshine you. Visit Sociocosmos now and unlock the potential of your social media presence.

[sgiandubh]

It's all fake, anyway

Oh, my. The last two or three video snippets in Marina del Rey. The revolt. The pearl-clutching. The hate.

Again, you know nothing, Jon Snow. It's all about the medium being the message, again: carefully calibrated snippets of information, destined to a captive, deeply divided and (how can I put that without sounding offending, I wonder) unexperimented (yes, that's decent enough) audience.

During the last 24 hours, we've got the Marina del Rey gin promo & MPC teambuilding (hardly an orgy, btw) and C's MUA (or is it hairdresser? irrelevant) hinting on Instagram about a photoshoot at a gin distillery in a #beautifullocation, somewhere on Earth, presumably in Scotland - given her last IG follow. No further details, of course. Very probably a (late-) latergram, too, when she finally got the green light to publish it. Implying nothing, but leaving a boulevard bandwidth for people to infer whatever suits their own narrative. Expect FMN news soon? I highly doubt that and stand corrected: the last photoshoot (with McSideburns, in London) was on May 3rd, when she needed to somehow show the world the Two of Them were continents apart. Identical modus operandi. And always, always via tertiary players.

As for the Marina del Rey teambuilding, if you think that is 'S living his life' you are: a) living in a remote mountain/island area or under a rock; b) an impenitent Mordorian with an agenda to boot or c) incredibly incompetent with the way of the world (or at least, that world). Allow me to translate?

It is alcohol promo, duckies, disguised as teambuilding. The intended message is aimed at a younger, non-OL related audience (as I already warned you) and it roughly goes like this:

'we are a fun loving, no nonsense, start-up business in the spirits industry. Because we don't have a huge advertising budget, we're testing the waters with a cheap, reality-TV snippet to better evaluate the number of social media clicks and new followers and help gauge & calibrate the next step'.

Was it poorly executed? Yeah, you could say that, but then what to do, in a very restrictive, highly regulated tobacco & spirits advertising market, hum? Is it my cup of tea? I don't drink, therefore this type of message touches one ball without really moving the other.

Yes. Start-up business: if we take into account the COVID logistic delay, I believe we're still in that three-years frame. And this detail is essential in order to put context around a very forgettable snippet. Selling a brand-new, more democratic product. Selling it clumsily, in an effort to build relevance, because even bad advertising is, ultimately, good advertising. But make no mistake: it's nothing more than that and it is all they can do, in the current context.

This brings to mind another aspect of the charade, namely the fact that after the Remarkable Week-end (and with the exception of some carefully scripted 'slips'), released and available information progressively became (at least) two-tiered.

First tier: information carefully calibrated for immediate release and general consumption, primarily but not exclusively by the fandom. This includes: spirits shilling, innuendos galore, look-here-not-there latergrams. It also entails less direct interaction with the fans on socials and delegating the media management to secondary players (often called to the rescue, too).

Second tier: public information with a limited availability (you have to take the plunge and pay), for sleuths able and willing to go the extra mile. They paint a very different landscape. And draw two copycat timelines of people who are investing, buying and selling property and overall branching out of their primary source of income with a plan.

I am not a photo sleuth. But with a little bit of time on my hands, I am a decent paperwork analyst. Accounting is not my forte, but legal and business is. I saw what I needed to see and it holds.

So before you start screeching (bad idea, right?), remember this (credit given to @dillon7fan, thanks):

Not really: it is doctored make believe. Bless your heart, honest guy.

Next stop, Tehran. Yes, you read that correctly.

This evening or tomorrow, at the latest. Because context is everything and this fandom severely fails at this.