#so basically i don't have any shelves and i would like one or two because i have no more space to put things

[moodyvamp]

did i tell you guys about my adventures in searching for a wall shelf to put in my room

[honeipie]

Hi love! I love your works and writing style so-so much! May I please request Bakugou falling in love with a weak and sick fem!reader that is bound to hospital bed because of her disease (she can walk but she is too weak to do so). They could meet at the hospital while she still had strength to walk. Basically, he falls in love with her watching her wither away.My heart is craving angst and some soft Bakugou💔It's okay if you can't write it. Anyway, thank you!!! Sending you lots of love 🩷🩷

THE PROMISE

katsuki bakugo x fem!sickreader

synopsis: katsuki fell in love with you, but all good things must come to an end

author note: my first writing request i will treasure this forever!

cw: sick reader, the sickness is not specific, mentions of dying

“thank you for coming dynamite! the kids will be excited to see you here!” a woman in scrubs bowed in thanks, which katsuki only grunted at.

“don’t have to bow or anything, but you’re welcome” katsuki dipped his head a bit as a sign of respect. the woman held her clipboard with a smile.

“well aren’t you humble? come on now, the kids are right this way”

the nurse led him through a pair of doors that were decorated with stickers and kids names from top to bottom.

katsuki had decided that he would spend his volunteer days at the local hospital. it was either that or wearing a hairnet at the local soup kitchen. telling kids about some of his battles and even doing a damn craft if he had to.

now he had thought the doors were colorful, but the room was something else. children’s drawings were hung up all over the ceiling being held together by small clothespins and wire. there were shelves of toys and stuffed animals across just one wall, and a playmat for a safe area to have fun in.

though there were no kids on the playmat letting their imaginations run wild with dolls. neither were there at the easel’s painting a new picture to hang up.

they were all sitting at the table enthralled with something in front of them. katsuki was about to get their attention before he heard your voice.

“and then they came in contact with the evil king. he sat on top of his throne which towered above the hero and the princess”

“why’d he make his throne so high up?” one of the kids asked eyebrows scrunched together.

“because the king thought he was better than everyone. thought everyone was small compared to him, but that’s not the right mindset to have” the child nodded in understanding which allowed you to go on “then the king yelled out to the two-“ you looked up finally noticing the pro hero staring into your soul. your next words stopped in your throat at his presence.

blinking your eyes you gained your composure again sending the kids a smile “the king yelled out you’re gonna have to wait until next week to find out” all the the kids screamed ‘no!’ collectively, disappointed that their story time was being cut short. all you could do was laugh as they all gathered near your legs begging you to continue the story.

“i don’t think you’ll want to hear any more of the story when you see the special guest" all of the kids immediately turned around at your words now noticing the big pro hero that had been lingering behind them.

"dynamite!" they all screamed and went over to him as fast as they could. he was now being bombarded with questions and stories about himself.

"guys c'mon! let him breathe" you walked over giving him a smile "sorry, they're just really excited"

katsuki shook his head at your words "it's fine. better then damn villains attacking me-"

"he said a bad word! y/n he said a bad word!" the kids started feeding off of each other's energy until it turned into a full on shouting match.

"i heard it everyone don't worry, but dynamite is an adult so he's allowed to say the bad words" you gently tugged the kids away from dynamite so he could collect himself. some part in you hoped he had something planned, but he just seemed to stand there awkwardly. this was nothing like the hot-headed hero you saw on the television. he shifted his weight from one foot to the other looking at the kids, then up at you again. catching the memo you nodded.

"why don't we all introduce ourselves to dynamite, yeah? go find a seat and then we can start"

he watched as all of the kids followed your instructions without further push back. katsuki sent a subtle nod your way in which you returned "right this way dynamite"

you led him over to the chair you were sitting in "you can sit right here then we can go over names" katsuki sat down in the chair, but had to scoot up to the edge of it. between his hero suit and wide hips fitting in the chair simply wasn't going to happen.

for the next hour you directed as the kids introduced themselves and were able to ask the hero questions. katsuki answered most of the kids questions, well the one's that weren't 'do you have a girlfriend?' or 'why do you look mad all the time?'. your personal favorite being 'why do you sweat so much?'. as soon as it came out of the kid's mouth you burst out in laughter.

dynamite rolled his eyes not even looking at you "glad you found that funny"

"sorry! just- just wasn't expecting that"

by the time the last question was answered it was time for them to go back to their individual rooms "everybody say thank you to dynamite!"

"thank you dynamite!" they yelled out before filing out of the room one by one. there was a smile on your face as you turned to clean up but immediately jumped at the sight of the pro hero that was now particularly close to you.

"hi!" it came out in such a high pitch you had to clear your throat to make sure you were alright "thanks for spending time with the kids. they really enjoyed it i could tell"

"good"

his empty response only left you more confused. blinking away the confusion you put back on that polite smile of yours "well i'm just going to go clean" you stepped away from him walking over to the table. you had gotten the bright idea that each kid should make colorful nametags and give them to the pro hero.

"what was i doing wrong?" he asked quickly, but you still caught it.

"excuse me?"

"what was i doing wrong? cause some of the kids were looking at me like i was stupid when you walked in"

a smile crept onto your lips hearing his words. the katsuki bakugo asking for feedback.

"well i know you're a blunt man, so let me be blunt with you. when you walked in you kinda looked stupid. like you just got shocked by lightning and couldn't move. correct me if i'm wrong. that's probably because you don't have much experience with kids"

he scratched his chin a light stubble growing on his chin. he hasn't had much time to shave "i don't"

you could tell that there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it. taking one of the pencil boxes you slid it back into place "if you wanted to visit again. i could teach you some of the things i've learned along the years. i could take you on a walk around the hospital" his eyes stayed glues to the floor making you just a bit nervous "i didn't want to assume but the kids really had fun. plus i know they would love if you came back"

taking his fingers off of his chin he looked up. there was no way the paparazzi was catching him in a hairnet "okay, let’s go, show me around the hospital"

you raised your eyebrow at his swift demands and stepped aside to show him the mess on the table "i know you're some popular pro hero, but here? you're a volunteer. so what we're going to is clean this place up. then we'll see about that walk" you went over and gave him a pat on the shoulder "welcome to the team"

the next two months went by pretty quickly. he would come to hang out with the kids and you'd help him with how to interact with them and setting up activities. and after all the festivities were over you would take him on walks around the hospital.

this was the third month he had come, and you were showing him the gardens. the two of you had established your own kind of relationship with each other built on respect. he even let you call him bakugo now.

"sometimes i like to bring the kids out here and teach them all about the plants and how to garden. they don't like it because they're learning though. they like it because they're big dirtballs and love to play in the flowerbeds"

this made katsuki let out a stiff chuckle. he would take this to his grave, but he was genuinely enjoying the time that he volunteered here. his manager didn't have to threaten him with late night shifts just to blindly pick up volunteer hours anymore. there was some sort of fulfillment he got out of hearing the kids call "mr. dynamite" when they had a question. or when they laughed so hard their tiny stomach's hurt just because he called them "little brats". he watched as you went to sit down on a nearby bench going to make sure that the flowers next to them had been watered recently.

plus, he didn't mind spending alone time with you either.

he sat down next to you moving his focus over to your hands "you know a damn lot about this hospital. how long you been a volunteer?"

you stilled at his question, and he was one to notice details. you pulled your hands away from the flowers going to face him "i actually don't volunteer. i'm a patient" you didn't like people asking questions, so you prepared a speech every time someone asked "i don't know what illness i have. doctors have been running tests for years and they still can't seem to understand. at random times i'll just get things like flareups, or my body will become absolutely exhausted out of nowhere. there’s other symptoms too, but i don’t want to bore you with the details. they won't let me go because it's like every time i walk out of the walls of this hospital something bad happens and i need to go right back to bed rest"

katsuki did something that a lot of people who asked about your sickness didn't know how to do. he listened. he was attentive and never let his eyes leave your face as you explained.

"i've been in and out of here since i was a kid. that's why i know the hospital and the workers so well. that nurse that brought you in the first day? she was just my nurse years ago, but now she's head of the pediatric floor"

it was all coming together now. the way you showed him the most secluded hallways. how you knew what times they would be doing building wide activities. and he was finally making sense of your words that you had told him on his first day.

"you have to know the hospital to really understand the kids. i know it sounds stupid, but this is their home, and some people can't understand that. most of these kids spend more time in the hospital than they do in their own house. so know this hospital. have enough respect for them to at least try and understand what they're going through"

you had felt so deeply about this because you had gone through the same exact thing, and you weren't going to have someone mistreat these kids.

“cool”

your eyebrows raised at his response.

“cool? i just told you about my lifelong sickness and you’re gonna say cool?”

“well whaddya want me to say? you want me to treat you like a fucking dying plant?”

“no”

“then i’m going to say cool and we can move the hell on”

“wow! is the number two hero dynamite really being a sweetheart?”

with one hand he gave you a playful shove “fuck off” he mumbled taking that arm and letting it rest behind you on the bench “and call me katsuki”

as the months pass, katsuki grows more comfortable with the children, and with you. he decided that he should come more frequently. once every month turned into every two weeks. then those two weeks turning into one. the two of you never really defined the relationship. you didn’t need to. all that you needed to know was he cared for you, and you him.

it only took one week to change everything.

katsuki walked onto the children’s floor heading into the room. all of the kids were doing their centers, but you were nowhere to be found. he saw the nurse though, helping one of the children with a computer game. when he walked over he ruffled the hair on top of the kids head “sup brat. mrs. harada, ‘s y/n here?”

mrs. harada’s expression grew soft. she placed a hand on the child’s shoulder letting them know she’d be right back. gently she grabbed katsuki’s forearm and walked him to a corner of the room.

“y/n relapsed. it was a two days after you came to volunteer. she was fine, about to head out from cleaning then just collapsed”

katsuki felt his blood running cold. how the hell could this happen? he just saw you. you were just fine.

why didn’t you call him?

mrs. harada placed a gentle hand on his shoulder “i’m sorry. i know you two are close, and i'm sure you don’t know how to feel. i can tell you her room number so you can see her. i’ll step in for both of you today” she smiled writing it on a sticky note and handed it to him. he gave her a nod then went to storm out “bakugo” she called out to get his attention “i understand you might be feeling betrayed, and you’re allowed to feel that way, but y/n is feeling a lot at the moment. she finally thought she was getting better and- and here we are. so please go easy on her”

katsuki thanked her, then headed out the door.

he walked through the hospital on a mission. he didn't stop to greet anyone or take autographs. the only time that he stopped was when he saw your room number.

the door was cracked open, but he couldn't see you from the angle where he was.

it was strange.

katsuki has trained for more hours than he could count. he had been facing villain's since he was at least fourteen years old. he had been through a whole damn war for crying out loud. and yet, as he stood there he felt a weight he had never felt before.

you glanced up seeing katsuki walk through the door. your heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him. even if you tried to put up a facade about it, your heart monitor gave everything away.

“you found me”

“ ‘s not like you gave me any other choice”

you watched as he stood in the doorway. hand stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. you had recommended that he didn't wear his hero suit since it would probably get uncomfortable after a while.

"katsuki you can come in-"

"why didn't you tell me as soon as it happened?"

"it's complicated"

"then fucking explain it to me" he stared at you his face unmoving.

"fine" you sat up wincing slightly at the pain shooting up your spine. katsuki almost faltered seeing your face contort from the pain "I don't know why I didn't tell you okay? The thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but I just couldn't do it" a shaky sigh left your body and you tried to fight back the tears "there's just a lot going on.. and- and-"

the door clicked softly behind him, but you hadn't noticed. katsuki had made his way next to your bed and was already climbing in beside you. the bed let out a groan because of the added weight. he wrapped one arm around you and wiped your tears with the other. his thumb had a rough texture from all the explosions they've let out throughout the years. but they were gentle for you, and only you.

"you don't gotta say anymore. i've got you"

you leaned onto his shoulder letting the dam of your emotions break onto him. tears ran down your face, but you let them flow this time.

so you cried, and you cried, and you cried and cried and cried.

and katsuki let you.

it had been a while before you could compose yourself again. the room was filled with comfortable silence and the occasional snuffle from you.

"do you feel better?" he asked turned his head to face you.

"yeah.. 'm sorry you had to deal with that"

"don't fuckin' apologize for crying"

you chuckled at his words going to grab a tissue to wipe any excess. he tilted his head some analyzing a spot on your face closely.

"you got somethin' right.. there" he swiped a piece of tissue that had gotten stuck on your face.

you faced him getting a better look from up close. blond hair stuffed under a black baseball cap. bags under his eyes from all of his night shifts.

katsuki couldn't handle you looking at him like that. eyes still puffy from crying. your tongue running over your lips.

fuck it.

katsuki's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck. he pulled you close as gently as he could. your foreheads touched before anything else.

"you don't want to kiss me. my face is disgusting" you whispered making him laugh, genuinely laugh.

"i've seen some disgusting shit and this isn't one of them"

you smiled before closing the distance between the two of you. there was a nice contrast to the kiss. between the roughness of his palm on your neck and his soft lips pressed against yours.

you could stay this way forever.

katsuki sneakily moved his tongue over your lips and pulled away. he made a face shaking his head "salty as shit"

"shut up!" you pushed him playfully making the both of you fall into laughter.

you and katsuki went on like this for months. constant visits, playful kisses, and when he was tired from patrol, he'd even let you read to him until he fell asleep.

but with the good, also came the bad.

your body had been getting weaker throughout the months. it came to the point where you couldn't get out of the bed unless you had help. katsuki had offered to take you on walks by putting you in the wheelchair, but you always refused. that is until you got the news.

"kats" you said causing him to lift his head from your shoulder "i wanna go on a walk"

he was confused at first. the sudden request to do something that you never wanted to was strange. though he didn't ask any questions as he went to get your things set up.

katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso lifting you up to be placed in the wheelchair. he had studied how the nurses did this thousands of times. you were embarrassed that he had to do this for you, but he'd do them a million times over it if meant walking with you.

there were no questions asked on where you wanted to go, you both knew.

katsuki pulled your wheelchair right next to the bench, but ended up putting you in his lap. you leaned against his shoulder looking at the cherry blossoms.

"when i die-"

"y/n don't start with that shit. you're not gonna die. you're gonna come back from this"

your one hand weakly played with the hair on the back of his head "we all die kats. it's okay if i talk about it"

"yeah, but you're talking about dying soon"

with a sad look in your eyes you watched his eyes follow the falling blossoms.

"can you at least promise me something then?"

"yeah"

"when i die, take care of the kids for me. you're so good with them and i don't trust just anybody handling it up there"

katsuki's eyes stayed glued to the trees in front of him.

"I can do that"

"and also-"

"idiot you said one promise!"

"hey! i'm dying i can make as many promises as i want" you smiled weakly at your own joke, but he didn't think it was too funny.

"promise to take care of yourself"

you saw his throat bob up and down at your words.

"you take care of so many other people and don't make time for yourself. learn how to rest kats. i can't have you dying either okay?" you placed a soft kiss on his cheek for good measure "you promise?"

katsuki rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm. a slow, shuddering breath leaving his mouth.

"i promise"

knowing that he would be okay you could finally rest, forever.

[dresshistorynerd]

Ranking Men's Costumes in Renaissance Period Dramas - Part I: The Bad

Part II: The Good

I have a bone to pick with Renaissance costuming of male characters. Films and TV never seem to understand French hoods or the concept of tied up hair but the crimes committed with female characters costuming seem to pale in comparison with those committed with male characters costuming. It would be easy to find some atrocities that should be brought in front of the Hague from the bottom of the barrel shows like Da Vinci's Demons and Reign, both of which costuming is basically black leather jackets, pants and boots. If we're lucky, they have some vaguely Renaissance details imitating doublet or jerkin. But these shows make absolutely no effort, even the women's costumes are straight from modern fast fashion shelves (often literally). But I have noticed that even costuming that has some effort otherwise put behind it, still costumes male characters with the most boring costumes and minimal effort. The Tudors didn't have good costumes, but there's some effort towards historical immersion, even if quite lackluster, but the men's costumes are still so sloppy.

My theory is that they think men's Renaissance fashion was too goofy and embarrassing to fit their cool and sexy main male characters. Also men dressing up and taking care of their appearance? That's obviously homosexual behavior, and these hot men who the main female characters are fawning over are Manly and Heterosexual. So they don't dress up in fancy clothing or colour!

To give a fair change to the costuming, I will be selecting only shows and movies which have good costuming for the female characters. If they are not even trying, it feels kinda pointless to point that out. I have selected 10 period dramas. I haven't seen all of them so I'm not going to analyse the costuming any deeper than how good and well made they look and how well they evoke the historical setting. I don't demand historical accuracy, but I will be more harsh on that front if the women's costumes are succeeding in that. But one of the point of period dramas is to immerse into a historical setting, so if the costumes can't evoke that feeling, I think they have failed. Obviously this is not some objective ranking, but my opinions. This is in two parts (because of Tumblr image limits), so I'll start with the five worst costumes in order of best to worst.

5. Ever After (1998)

Ever After is supposedly set in Renaissance France, but the costuming resembles late 15th century and early 16th century Italy much more. It's not very historical, and clearly not really trying to be, going for more of a fantastical style. It works, I think because they make it cohesive and very pretty.

Men's costumes resemble also resemble Italian styles. The Lombardian style sleeves, short doublets and tight pants land it right there. The men's costumes are much more boring than the fun and fantastical women's costumes, but they got the least worse spot in this worst costumes list for several reasons. The pants are actually tight and they have codpieces. The sleeves are actually really great I love them. And there's no leather pants or doublets.

And look at this, at least one doublet is closed with lacing!! (I apologize for the very low image quality, it was the only picture I found of that costume.)

The biggest gripe I have with the costumes are the boots. Just let these male characters show of their calves. At least not everything is black but the lack of colour is still disappointing too.

4. Becoming Elizabeth (2022)

The female characters have quite excellent costuming. The fabrics are rich and gorgeous, the bodices are extremely smooth and crisp, some of the best I've seen, partlets are on point and correctly used. My only complained is the occasional open hair and yet another case of the weird upward pointing crown-like French hoods.

French hood didn't have any crown shaped thing, it was a hood and the headpiece is actually several headpieces made to reveal the lining of the hood in a crescent shape. So it is very much flat against the head. (I've written about French hood's construction before.) And sure they look more early Tudor fashion, the sleeves should be much more dramatic and the bodice elongated. Like here's a portrait of the actual young Elizabeth. But I think the detailing, great construction and good looking materials make the costuming beautiful and feeling enough like Tudor era.

So how does the men's costuming hold up? Pretty okay, which is why this show is so high up in the list. I haven't seen any leather pants on anyone. Leather jerkins were an actual thing, they just weren't black, and though the leather jerkin in the show was dark brown and not smooth hide, it was not black so that's something. Edward VI does have actual stockings and Renaissance shoes, which is great, but he is a kid and I didn't see any grown man rocking that style which is very cowardly behavior imo. There's some colourful silk jerkins in there too. And they even could get away with all black since that was very fashionable at the time. They are all wearing slashed trunk hose. AND! They have actual accurate codpieces sticking up! That is so rare especially in this period when the codpiece was not just a flat piece of fabric.

Unfortunately this is where the good things I have to say end. All of these court people are for some reason wearing riding boots inside and everywhere all the time. The hose are way too long and the jerkins are way too short. The hose should be just peaking under the hem of the jerkin. Obviously none except the kid uses thigh high stockings. One of the worst things though imo is the lack of structuring in the men's costumes. The women's costumes are so well structured, but the men's costumes are just wet rags hanging on them? The doublets were heavily structured to create a pigeon chest and hourglass effect.

In conclusion, there's clearly some effort made, some very nice historical details, but the overall look is very costumy and sloppy because of the lack of structuring and lacks the historical silhouette.

3. Mad Love (2001)

The movie is set around 1500 Neatherlands (and Spain). I think many of the costumes are gorgeous (like the examples below), though overall the costuming is quite inconsistent. Most of it fits at least okay to the time period and setting, though the red dress here is more along Italian styles, but not entirely off either for early 1500s Low Countries. Some costumes though are 50 years from future. Of the women's costumes alone, this would probably be the worst costuming on this list, though I think better than most Renaissance costuming, which is why it still ended up on this list.

The men's costumes resemble more early 16th century German fashion than Low Countries fashion, which was more similar to French fashion than German. In the red ensemble there's some weird jerkin looking overgarment, but jerkins were not a thing yet and they were never in this style. I will excuse the lack of codpiece since in Low Countries' fashion it was hidden under longer overgarments, even though in this more German style it would have been left in view. The hose are no where near fitted enough, and the boots should not be here at all. Overall this is kind of a mess, but it is better than the last two. We have skirt, we have weird sleeves, open neckline and most importantly, we have colour. Also while this shoulder-length curly hair wasn't in fashion outside Italy at the time, I still appreciate the sluttiness of it.

2. The Borgias (2011-2013)

Now we are getting to the territory, where the lack of effort is starting to be very obvious. Like the costumes till now were not particularly good, but clearly they at least attempted, even if not very hard. So, The Borgias. The show is set in the early 1500s Italy. The women's costumes are gorgeous. Not always the most historically accurate, but at least close enough and very pretty.

The men's costumes however... a deep sigh. Some of them are not that bad, like this first one has kinda Lombardian sleeves and a too small doublet showing off the lacing (in Italy the lacing was almost always ladder-lacing though regardless of gender, but it's something I guess). Most of it though, especially of the leading men, who are supposed to be cool and hot, is absolutely garbage. The same black leather jackets and pants seen in the bottom of the barrel shows. Like the costumes of the female characters and some of the male characters feel like they are from two completely different shows. Like sure they have codpieces, but their pants are so loosely fitted they wouldn't even need the codpieces. (I explain the use of codpieces in this post). And of course they have boots. Of course. In Italy it was even common to not wear shoes at all, they just sewed leather soles at the bottom of the hose. And even the men's costume that have tiniest bit of effort, are so dark and lacking in colour, when the most fashionable young men at the time wore these wildly multicoloured hose and doublets. The feeling I get the showrunners were so god damn afraid of giving the cool male characters any elements or details that could in anyway seen as feminine today, they stripped all the historical elements away. Like they couldn't even give Cesare lacing, they had to make it Manly Buckles?? It's such an insecure performance of masculinity. I admit the last image here is the worst offending example and there were some with a bit of color even, but in other ways most of it is exactly this bad. I will have to hand one thing to them though. They did manage to get the slutty shoulder-length hair right.

If this man is supposed to be sexy, prove it to me by showing his ass with lovingly fitted hose.

1. Rosaline (2022)

This is roughly set in the same time in Italy too as The Borgias, based on women's costumes, I'd say at the very end of 15th century. And those women's costumes are honestly great. They even have hand-sewn eyelets, ladder-lacing and cartridge pleats. Even some of the most high effort costumes don't get these details right. Honestly I only have issue with the hair, the hair goes from okay or outright terrible. They even made this super historically accurate Renaissance apron for a maid.

This got the lowest ranking so you know what comes next. The men's costuming is absolutely unacceptable. I feel like it would be excessive to even describe all the ways these costumes fail since to me they are so obviously bad. The difference between these women's dresses with such gorgeously crafted details and these men's costumes that give absolutely nothing is so stark and gives such a massive dissonance. They are just wearing modern skinny-ish pants, all the colors are so muted and dark, there's no shape, no structure, no codpieces, just sloppy bland jackets and pants. Even less effort than men's costumes in The Borgias have. Except one thing they have over The Borgias, they were able to ladder-lace that doublet. Otherwise these are just bland, boring and actively ugly. And it's so weird that they took this "gritty gruff "realistic"" route, when it's a comedy about Romeo and Juliet? You afford to be a little goofy with a comedy and yet you did this.

Extreme disappointment, do better.

Part II: The Good

[the-lonelybarricade]

Queen of Thieves - Chapter 8

Summary: A fulfillment of this kinkmeme prompt. Or; A Canon AU where half fae, con-artist Feyre makes an ill placed bet.

Happy birthday to our darling Rhys!! I got him everything he wanted 😏

CW: Smut, Mild dubcon/CNC elements, mind control, and other dubious, wicked things

Read on AO3・QoT Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

-

Feyre was eleven years old the first time she was desperate enough to steal.

Like any ordinary child, she'd been taught that stealing under any circumstance was wrong. Her father was a merchant, which meant that thieves posed a direct threat to his livelihood, particularly when piracy was so common along the trade routes to the continent.

He'd built his legacy, the Prince of Merchants, on his willingness to sail those trade routes, navigating pirate-ridden seas because the higher risk equated to higher reward.

But a name wasn't won through gambling alone. Any merchant with a rookie crew could luck their way to the continent and back. What made him the best—the Prince—was his expertise in the art of bargaining. He was renowned for having deals so detailed, so craftily constructed, they needed to be written and signed in advance of each journey.

Feyre had been present for a few of those meetings, watching as ink bled from paper to skin. Sometimes, she'd even been present for the aftermath, listening to crewmen grumble about underhanded terms.

I am a man of my word, Father once said, rolling a contract over his desk and stabbing a finger to its contents. And my word was stated plainly. Do not impute your failure to read the terms on my good name. I am no liar, and I am certainly no thief.

He always used that word like it was filthy.

Feyre once mirrored that belief.

As a child, she would delight in sitting atop storage crates on the docks, monitoring the gangways as her father's crew unloaded cargo from his ship. If there were any wayward thieves, she was determined to catch them.

After all, Father didn't trust the folk along the docks. He barely trusted his own crew.

They don't have any passion for the exploration or the trade, he once grumbled. All they want is a bed and a meal.

Feyre remembered being shocked to hear that some people didn't have those things. Until that point, she'd always relied on having her basic needs met, and then some.

What's so bad about that?

When all a person cares about is surviving, it means they're willing to blur lines. They'll cheat, lie, and steal if it helps them get ahead.

Father shook his head like those three things were truly abominable. Little did he know that one day, Feyre would become a master of all three.

But she started with mastering one.

Two years after her father's vessel sank on the route to Bharat, Feyre's mother had fallen ill. Humans had weak constitutions, and grief could take a heavy toll. So could debt—of which, they'd learned the famed Prince of Merchants had many.

So Mother sold the house, then the jewels, then, eventually, her own body.

It was barely enough.

By the time she was too ill to work, there was nothing left to get by. No silver candlesticks or golden rings they could pawn at the market for medicine.

When Feyre wandered into the apothecary's shop, her intentions had been pure. If she knew the price of the medicine, then perhaps she and her sisters could find a way to scratch together the amount needed. They could scrub floors, or pull weeds in someone's garden, or maybe Elain could use her big brown eyes to draw sympathy begging in the streets.

The shop was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves on every wall, filled to the brim with glass vials of varying colors and consistencies. Each sported a white label Feyre couldn't discern, though she was happy to pick out the colors that she found most interesting: a flask of swirling violet flecked with silver granules, another of bright, bubbling pink, and one which she swore housed a slithering creature.

"Can I help you?" The apothecary asked.

She sounded concerned, which any adult rightly would be at the sight of Feyre's tattered clothes.

It sparked hope that Feyre could appeal to the elderly female's empathy. That was all she'd been trying to do when she stared into the apothecary's eyes. Please help me, she thought. I know you want to help me.

The female's concern was so potent that Feyre could feel it, a rope tethering two strangers, built on kindness, on compassion. Her mind was as wide open as her heart.

Feyre didn't know she was digging into it until she felt something give. Like fingers clawing into wet sand.

I need a cure for a human fever, Feyre said.

She thought she said it out loud. She must have, because the apothecary started moving toward the shelf on the back wall.

Acting troupes occasionally put on puppet shows in the market squares near The Rainbow. Feyre felt like she was watching one of those shows as the female jerked open a drawer, her movements erratic. Unnatural. Like she was being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer.

But the oddity was forgotten the second the woman produced a vial of shimmering liquid and handed it to Feyre without a word of the price. Her eyes were unnervingly vacant as Feyre took the vial, thanked the apothecary, and fled back to her mother.

She didn't realize until years later what happened; she didn't realize that was the moment she'd become a thief.

-

Daemati magic came in many different forms.

Suspended in the space between the High Lord of the Night Court's foyer and study, it took the shape of madness and indulgence.

Over the years, Feyre had progressed from accidentally breaking into people's minds into doing so with intention. It was a gradual process, one she likened to painting. A child used their fingers, but an artist used a brush.

And she was learning her mental bowstring was as rudimentary as finger painting to Rhysand.

Last time, he'd shown her brutal talons that allowed him to play ventriloquist, and she'd thought that was the extent of it. Pure, unyielding power.

But of course, it could be soft, too. Gentle, like a feather's touch ghosting over her mind. Almost… ticklish. Playful.

Like the fingers landing on her bare stomach. He splayed them out carefully, the way one might handle ruptured glass. They might have both been holding their breath as the challenge became real.

Their eyes met, waiting for the other to fracture. This was a ridiculous, dangerous game; they both knew it.

He was lowering himself to his knees before her, for Cauldron's sake. The most powerful male in Prythian bowing like a supplicant. It all seemed so backward to her.

But those strong, capable hands spread wider, undeterred by the constraints of social hierarchy. What did a High Lord care, when he could simply rewrite the rules with his fingertips? He stretched them until his palms landed flat, scalding her on either side of her abdomen. She tried not to focus on how long his fingers were, spanning over the curve of her waist while the tips of his forefingers skimmed her ribs.

"This," Rhys breathed, tracing one of his thumbs along the golden chain adorning her midriff, "was an excellent wardrobe choice."

"You can thank one of the mountain nymphs in the Palace of Thread and Jewels," Feyre said. As if this were a perfectly normal conversation. "She sold it to me."

"I'll make note of that," Rhys murmured, still toying with that gods-damned chain. Feyre fought the urge to squirm. "I owe her my heartfelt gratitude."

"I bought it with your money," she added.

Rhys shut his eyes. She watched him take a deep breath, and she couldn't tell if that knowledge irritated or excited him. When those violet eyes flashed open, bright and burning with hunger, Feyre thought she had her answer.

"Then it was arguably the best money I've ever spent."

"Arguably?"

It was meant to come off as teasing, but with his fingers drifting up her stomach, everything was coming out a little bit strained. And maybe… a little hurt. Not that it mattered if the High Lord regretted spending his money on her.

When Rhysand laughed, his breath danced over her skin, as light a caress as his presence at her mental shields.

"I would claim it with more conviction, but you weren't here for the ass-chewing I received from my second."

"Your—" she broke off with a little gasp as Rhysand's hands slid upwards, dipping beneath the golden band that cinched her top over her breasts. She adjusted her grip on the rope, holding tighter. "Your second in command?"

"Amren," he supplied. "She's a vicious firedrake trapped in a tiny female's body."

"Amren," Feyre echoed, squeezing her eyes tight as those curious fingers began running along the beads hanging beneath her breasts. They made a soft, metallic tink as they swung and collided with each other. "Amren like… like from the children's stories?

Nesta used to tease her with cautionary tales of the bloodthirsty Amren, who lurked in the shadows and sucked on the bones of naughty children. It wasn't the first she'd heard of Rhysand being in cohorts with Amren, but she'd always assumed it was figurative. The way a Priestess was associated with the Mother.

"She doesn't devour misbehaving children, if that's what you're wondering." Rhysand paused, drawing back for a moment with a horrifyingly considerate expression. "Anymore," he clarified.

"Anymore?" Feyre squeaked.

"There's no need to be afraid, Feyre." He grinned, leaning in closer. "Unless, of course, you've been misbehaving. Is there something you'd like to confess?"

Cauldron boil her. Feyre couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"Last I checked, stealing and gambling aren't exactly the traits of a priestess."

"It's a good thing Amren isn't the Mother, then. I think she would find those things amusing," Rhys said, a curious warmth to his voice. One she might even dare to label as affection. "In fact, I think she'd be quite impressed with you."

Feyre repeated, incredulous, "With me?"

"I certainly am."

And before she could digest that statement, Rhys circled a hand to the small of her back, untying the golden band that kept the fabric over her breast secured. It dropped to the floor in a clatter of beading, marking the descent of Feyre's resolve.

Her arms were starting to tremble, and she was grateful she could blame it on the exertion of holding them up. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the stinging in her palms from how tightly she gripped the rope. It was far better to focus on her chafing skin than the kiss of cool air against the underside of her breasts.

There was nothing preventing Rhys from slipping his hands beneath the newly loosened fabric and discovering her hardened nipples—not that they weren't already visible, peeking through the thin layer of fabric.

Rhys drew back to observe her, holding his advance for the moment.

"Are you getting nervous, Feyre?" The lapping presence at her mind became a little pushier, more of a prod than a stroke. "Your shield's still holding up nicely."

"Because I'm not nervous," she insisted.

"No?" Rhys leaned in, pressing the tip of his regal nose just beneath her navel. "Is that something else I smell, then?"

"Is it the stench of your own ego?"

"So sharp with me," he chided, momentarily abandoning his conquest near the top of her ribs to guide his nose lower, down to her hip bone, then across the low dip of her skirt. "What will it take to make you soft? Is it just a matter of finding the right spot to stroke?"

Feyre snorted. "I don't think soft is what appeals to you, High Lord."

"Oh?" His eyes flickered up to hers, only briefly, before he resumed his slow exploration. "What is it you think appeals to me?"

Feyre didn't answer. She didn't know how—not once he found the knot that kept her skirt in place. He bit into it, tugging with his teeth despite having two perfectly good hands placed just below her breasts.

Feyre nearly let go. She considered it, at least, as she watched Rhys unravel the knot with his mouth. She had time to stop it from plummeting to the ground in a waterfall of blue cloth. But she didn't.

As it pooled at her feet, Rhys drew away again, taking her in with riveted interest. With her hands occupied, there was nothing she could use to hide from his stare, though she twitched with the urge. She felt like a creature trapped in a frame, laid bare under his assessment.

It wasn't the clothes, or lack thereof. Though, he looked delighted to discover the pair of lacy underthings she'd selected that morning. It wasn't the lust, either. Not when she felt it in equal measure, and had walked into this house fully intending to slate their shared desire.

No, what caught her off guard. What stripped her raw, worse than the rope squeezed between her fingers, was the way that smug smile faded into something… something Feyre didn't know how to name.

His eyes captivated her. Blazing and intent, no different from the moment they met. She couldn't look away from them—and she wanted to, if only to glance over her shoulder and ensure the Mother hadn't materialized behind her back. That was the only way Feyre could have explained the awe creeping over his expression.

His fingers flexed at their place over her ribs, as though restraining the urge to drag them lower.

"You," he said, answering the question she couldn't. On his knees, in that voice… It sounded oddly like a prayer. "I want you however you come, Feyre. Soft or sharp, you're equally exquisite."

Her heart was beating in her throat. "What if I only know sharp?"

"Then be as sharp as you want with me." He was leaning towards her again, less as if driven by hunger and more as if he simply couldn't resist. Like she was the puppeteer, pulling him forward. "Cut me, make me bleed. Just—don't make me stop."

Feyre didn't plan on it. That rope was her lifeline, and she held tight as Rhys dived back against her stomach, his mouth open this time, tasting and nipping at her skin. There would be marks there tomorrow. A trail of love bites across her hips, just beneath the golden chain he seemed so obsessed with.

When she tried to wriggle away, growing impatient, Rhys slid his hands to her hips, locking her in place.

"Stay still for me." She found his orders lost some of their impact when muffled into her stomach. "I told you I intend to taste every inch."

It was a shame she couldn't dive her hands into his hair. If she could, she would have taken hold and pushed his mouth where she actually wanted him—needed him.

"Rhys."

His name was half gasp, half complaint.

"You know." He slid his tongue around the curve of her navel, before mouthing his way to the valley of her breasts. His hands followed in a slow, scraping caress. "I don't think I've ever heard you call me that before."

"Would you—" Feyre's breath hitched as he brushed the back of his knuckles against one of her nipples. "Prefer to be called High Lord?"

That seemed to amuse him. "My bedmates aren't usually so formal."

"What do you prefer then? Master? Milord? Your Great Exaltedness?"

Rhys hummed dismissively. "If you can say that many words, then I'm not doing my job right."

"Well, I've been speaking this whole time. So what does that tell you about how you're doing?"

Feyre knew she was in trouble when Rhys stilled. She didn't know why she always felt the need to provoke him. Maybe it was because she still couldn't figure out why he tolerated it.

This was the same male who threatened to cut off someone's tongue for speaking too casually in his presence. The same male who slaughtered one of his captains without blinking. He had a reputation for ruthlessness, and she'd witnessed firsthand how he'd earned it.

And yet, he always seemed to hold back the breadth of his cruelty around her.

Even now, as he thumbed at her nipple through the loose fabric over her chest, he exuded patience. Musing, "Have you ever tried Illyian tea?"

Tea? Not following where he was going with the question, Feyre answered with a hesitant, "No?"

"It's cold in the Illyrian Mountains," Rhys said, emphasizing his point by ducking to blow a gust of cold breath over her collarbone. Feyre shivered. "The tea keeps us warm, and doubles as treatment for the wounded. It's strong stuff. The kind that burns down your throat and will land you on your ass after too many cups."

"What's your point?"

"You don't savor Illyrian tea. You down it as quickly as possible and wait for the warming to start."

"Okay?"

"I spent most of my youth in the Illyrian Mountains," Rhys went on. "And the first time I attended a High Lord's summit with my father, he smacked me upside the head when I tried to down a thimble of Day Court Mead. He told me I looked barbaric. Day Court Mead is one of the finest wines in Prythian, you see. You're meant to sip it, holding the flavors on your tongue."

"So I'm the mead, then," Feyre said, guessing where he was going with the analogy. "Am I supposed to be flattered that you're comparing me to a drink?"

Rhys didn't answer immediately. He only grinned to himself, before pulling away and rising from his knees. An unsettling response—almost as unsettling as his cryptic, "Stay here."

Then he headed back into the dining room. Feyre leaned through the doorway as best she could to follow what he was up to, but from her vantage point, all she could see was the end of the dining table and the abandoned chairs. She didn't dare let go of the rope to inspect any further.

It could be a trick, after all.

"I swear to the Cauldron, Rhysand, if you intend to leave me hanging from the doorway for the rest of the bargain—"

"You'll what, exactly?" He asked, sauntering back into view with a bottle in his hands, his face the picture of smug amusement.

"You'll owe me anything by the end of this," Feyre reminded him. "If you decide to be cruel, I'll endure it. And then I'll ensure it's repaid in full."

"Such a feisty creature you are." The words sounded gratingly affectionate, the way one would speak to a kitten batting at their leg. "And, pray tell, how will I be repaid if I decide to be kind? Might I expect more warmth from you?"

Feyre narrowed her eyes at the bottle in his hand. "What's that?"

He displayed it proudly before her. "Day Court mead, of course."

That was where he lost her. And it made Feyre nervous, seeing his large hands braced around the bottle, watching as he drew his thumb suggestively around the rim of the cork…

Her voice wobbled a bit as she asked, "W-what are you planning to do with it?"

All it needed was a small push of his thumb and then—pop.

"I want you to try it," Rhysand said, closing the distance between them.

His fingers lodged under her chin, burning where they touched. She was burning in so many places, now. Her hands, raw from the rope. Her chin, warm from his touch. Her cunt, aching with need. And her cheeks, embarrassed from it all.

"Be good for me." Rhys tilted her chin up, until her eyes were level with the sight of her trembling arms, growing white and numb, but still holding fast.

When he raised the bottle, he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, prompting with a single, firm, "Open."

Feyre parted her lips, allowing him to pour the mead into her mouth.

The first drop was like sunlight. Honeycomb drenched sunlight. Sweet, but not like sugar. Sugar was sharp, quick, and over too soon. This was slow, like a sun-warmed nap in a swaying field, rich and indulgent. The longer she tasted, the more depth she discovered, luring her in, somersaulting her towards a golden abyss.

"Don't swallow," Rhys whispered, his voice wending around her, coupled by strokes of dark tendrils that forced her awareness to return to her other senses. On her tongue, a drop had become a flood, filling her mouth until it pooled, then overflowed, streaming down her chin, her neck, her breasts.

She could already feel the sugar sticking to her, but her focus was on remembering to breathe through her nose, trying desperately not to choke while Rhys continued pouring, his other hand cradling her skull as he murmured, "That's it, Feyre. Good girl."

Eventually, the bottle ran dry.

"Not yet," Rhysand said. "You're meant to hold it on your tongue, remember?"

Feyre's throat bobbed uncomfortably. That was another place she was beginning to burn.

"Stay still," he coaxed, leaning in. Their eyes met as his lips fell over hers. Those damn, discerning eyes that saw everything, including the desire she was trying so hard to fight.

He saw it, and smiled, all wicked and taunting. His tongue flicked across her lower lip, tasting the wine. But he didn't stop there.

His fingers curled in her hair, urging her head upright so the mead could flow from her open mouth to his. It wasn't clean by any means. Honeyed wine spilled from the seam of their lips, dripping onto her skin and his clothes, making a mess of them both. She swallowed what was left—it was the only way she could kiss him back, and Rhys didn't seem to have any complaints.

With a groan, he dashed the empty bottle to the floor, bearing no mind to the resulting crash and scattering fragments. He seemed to have much more pressing concerns, which involved scooping Feyre against him to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced her lower lip again, and she opened her mouth, inviting him to taste at the source.

His tongue swept in, tasting of honey, and she wanted so badly to let go of the rope so she could hold him there, to suck at his tongue and bite at his lips. Rhys was in full control, positioning her just as he wanted so he could taste.

Feyre hissed when he pulled away to lick a trail of mead from her chin.

A rasping chuckle was her response. "I've made a mess, Feyre. It's my duty to clean it up."

A hand fisted in her hair and tugged, angling her neck back so he had full license to lick the column of her throat.

Feyre was panting, squirming against his hold and furious that he would stop kissing her. "Rhys—"

"What happened to Your Great Exaltedness?"

He kept her arrested in that position, taking his time to suck and nip at her skin, then pull away with an audible pop. Over and over, he ignored her groans of frustration, creating a path of red welts that were soon interrupted by her sullied top.

"Oh dear, this has been ruined, hasn't it?" He didn't sound the least bit concerned as he ripped at it, casting the garment away as if it were mere cobwebs. "Don't worry, I'll get you a replacement."

And then the heat of his mouth surrounded one of her breasts, his tongue circling her nipple. Feyre gasped, bucking into the air. This was going to be impossible if she didn't have something to ground her, something to—

Rhys, as if sensing what she needed, wedged his thigh between her legs. The pressure against her clit relieved some of the ache, but introduced the new, humiliating urge to drive her hips forward.

She bit her lip, determined to resist.

"Is this what you needed, Feyre?" Rhys coaxed, palming her hip to create the movement for her. She fought a whimper as her clit ground against his hard muscle. "Does that feel better?"

She refused to answer him. But she also didn't stop moving her hips when he let go.

"That's it," he murmured, returning his attention to her breasts. One was cradled in his palm, while the other endured the countless lashes from his tongue, teasing her so mercilessly that she thought she might die if she didn't touch him.

When his teeth clamped down, Feyre screamed, driving her hips against his thigh harder. Her head was beginning to spin, a mixture of exhaustion and pleasure and pain.

As she writhed against him, Feyre started plotting all the ways she would get her revenge once her hands were free. Maybe she'd fish another bottle of mead from his cellar and sip it from his abs. Maybe she'd tie him up and ride his face until he couldn't breathe.

Maybe she'd—

My, don't you have the most delicious thoughts about me.

Feyre froze. Rhysand's mouth was still latched to her breast. Those words hadn't come from his mouth. Which meant that voice…

It was in her mind.

You should pay more attention to your mental shields, Feyre. A lesser male could walk right in and decide to take you up on those filthy thoughts of yours.

Feyre's fingers flexed with the urge to lash out in front of her, as if she could physically push him out. What are you doing?

Did you forget? This was a daemati exercise. And it looks like your shield dropped as soon as you started enjoying yourself.

A familiar sensation crept over her—awareness, like a cold breath cascading down her spine, that her body was yielding to a foreign presence. Her veins became a latticework of strings, and she felt his talons pluck at them, transforming her into a marionette of his will.

Now, now, he tutted. Don't stop on my account, Feyre.

Captive in her own mind, Feyre could do nothing to prevent her hips from rolling forward. Her head tipped back, and without restraint over her body, there was nothing to smother the moan rising in her throat.

There you are, Feyre. Give in to it.

He was everywhere, physical and otherwise. His magic swarmed through the crack in her mental shields, blanketing her mind in a fog of endless starlight. She treaded through it the same way she'd learned how to swim, thrashing and kicking blindly in an attempt to reach the surface. But that assumed there was a surface, an ending to the vastness of power that twined and twisted around her.

Rhys clicked his tongue. Must you always fight me?

Outside their minds, she felt cool air sting her puckered nipple, exacerbated by the saliva glinting there, and the trail of it that led to Rhysand's cat-like grin. She watched him lick his lips as he admired his work: From her flushed skin, covered in love bites and rivulets of golden wine, to her trembling arms, waning in strength. Finally, his attention dipped to his thigh, where the fabric of his trousers had become damp from each consecutive pass of Feyre's hips.

He took a deep, pointed inhale. You can admit you want this. There's no sense hiding what we both already know.

I want—even her mental voice sounded shaky—the money and the favor. Not you.

Immune to her lies, her body continued helplessly rubbing against him. Her breathing quickened as that pressure began to build, winding hot and tight.

Why not me, Feyre? Rhys pushed, almost taunting. He could feel she was close to the edge. Is it because it frightens you?

Because it's not real!

That's not the game we're playing right now.

His tongue snaked along her throat, licking away more of the mead.

Inside, she was grappling against his hold. They thrashed and rolled through the darkness, her claws scraping his, pushing and pulling, ebbing and flowing until they were a tangled mass of magic, so deeply intertwined that Feyre lost all sense of where she ended and he began.

Meanwhile, Rhysand held her, enveloped her, worshiped her with his mouth and hands and talons, and she thought it wouldn't be the worst thing to surrender to this.

Why was she holding herself back?

This is all just a distraction, she reasoned. It doesn't mean anything

Do you want it to mean something, Feyre?

Feyre wanted to scream. Though, from frustration or pleasure she wasn't certain. Everything was becoming muddled, colors bleeding together like water over paint. There wasn't room in her mind to think, and outside her body was being driven to a pinnacle that she couldn't hold back.

Get out of my head!

Rhysand's voice was full of faux sympathy. If it's too much for you, darling, then let go of the rope.

Fuck you.

Oh, I intend to. His voice was starting to sound a little breathless, too. A large hand palmed her backside, moving her faster against him. She watched through half-lidded eyes as his head tipped back with a low, guttural sound. Fuck. Feyre—

The world fractured. Erupted, like dropping into the ocean and feeling the water rush past. She delved deep into that darkness, feeling her own magic rupture and scatter into stars, washing her soul against the shore of his, their very essence seeping through the cracks of the other, becoming a tapestry of magic threaded so tightly she could feel it pulling in her chest.

Feyre let go of the rope.

She didn't know she still had enough control over her body to do so, not until she was already moving, threading her arms behind his neck to crash her mouth to his. It wasn't gentle. He didn't deserve gentle.

Bed, she demanded.

Rhys obeyed without question, not breaking their kiss as darkness folded and unspooled around them, depositing Rhys on his back atop his bed. Feyre straddled him, clawing at his clothes with shaking, rope-burned hands.

Until Rhys caught both wrists, bringing them to his lips one at a time to kiss away the raw flesh.

There's no rush, he soothed, running his thumb across her newly healed palms. We'll have an extra six hours together, after all.

For that comment alone, Feyre tore straight through his jacket and undershirt, coming away with strips of cloth. The High Lord didn't seem to mourn his clothes in the least. She would have taken more time to admire him, to admire the tattoos that she discovered on his chest and shoulders, so strikingly similar to her own.

Except, he was staring up at her, raw delight on his face. So feral—

Shut up.

I'll need to subtract that from your—

I said. Feyre crawled up his body, tearing off her soaked underthings. Shut. Up.

Unfortunately, sitting on a male's face was only an effective silencing technique when that male wasn't a daemati.

What a pretty view, Rhys purred, craning his neck before she'd even finished lowering herself down. The second she was steady, her hands balanced on the headboard, he hooked his arms around her thighs to bring her closer. Here I thought you planned to punish me.

Congratulations, you've proved you can run your mouth. Do you actually know how to use it?

Rhys arched a brow. Even Feyre couldn't believe her own boldness. One of these days, she was going to overstep and find herself on the receiving end of that boundless power, and it wouldn't be teasing and caressing her the way it was doing now.

Don't be so certain. I like that you're not afraid of me.

The purr in his voice heated her blood, nearly as much as that first, filthy kiss he pressed against her cunt. He went slow, using the broad flat of his tongue to part her folds in a long path ending at her clit. That was where he focused his attention, sucking and lashing while he kept her hostage in his grip.

But if you're going to mouth off, he continued without faltering in his expert torture. Be prepared for the consequences.

This, Feyre gasped, doesn't feel like a consequence.

Yet, he said smugly. I have all night with you. And I intend to 'put my mouth to use' until I've had my fill.

She knew he was bluffing. Feyre could count on her hand the number of males who had put their heads between her thighs, and all of them disengaged after a few minutes into the act.

With a growl, Rhys redoubled his efforts. A word to the wise when fucking a daemati: try not to think of other males unless you want them dead.

Jealous?

Insufferably. He nuzzled his face lower, dragging his tongue to her entrance. Do you still remember their names?

No. Even if she did, she wouldn't have told him. On the chance that he wasn't joking when he said they'd end up dead.

Good.

His tongue slid inside her, and the headboard creaked from how tightly Feyre clutched to it, convinced she would topple over when his fingers slid between her legs to supplement his tongue, rubbing tight, delicious circles. Her hips bucked, her climax shattering through her at incredible speed, causing light to dot her vision.

Rhys didn't slow his movements, continuing to lick and stroke her as he crooned, There's only one name you need to remember.

They were still mind-to-mind, completely entangled. Paired with her mind-numbing pleasure, it made the task of searching through her memory rather tedious. It was like trying to navigate a familiar place in the dark, she knew the information was somewhere around here…

Cassian? She said, recalling the name she'd heard from the rumor mill with a great deal of effort.

Rhys growled. Very funny.

Her thighs, clamped tightly around his head, were beginning to twitch as he worked her towards another rapidly approaching edge. Feyre didn't think she could survive this all night.

Wh-what was it you said? If I can say this many words, then you must not be doing a very good—

Those hands at her thighs grabbed her roughly, pushing her off his face and flipping her onto her back in a single, fluid movement. Feyre yelped as one of those hands grabbed her throat, pinning her to the mattress.

You can't help yourself, can you, Feyre?

Not any more than you!

An exasperated laugh rasped out of him, making her think she had just proved his point.

What happened to having your mouth on me all night? She challenged.

I'm thinking I need to tire you out first. Get you a little more… subdued.

He withdrew his hand, then his body entirely. Feyre's mouth went dry as she watched him unbutton his trousers, finally freeing his erection. He had no right to be as big as he was. To be as beautiful and powerful and arrogant as he was and to still have a cock like that…

Feyre hated him a little bit for it. Hated how difficult it would be to walk away from him by the end of this.

Rhys sauntered forward, expression as satisfied as it ought to be with a cock like that swinging between his legs and unfiltered access to each of the filthy thoughts she was having about it.

There'll be time for more play later, he said, pressing a knee into the bed.

He crawled over to her, and she watched his eyes fall over her naked body, parted in invitation for his. The hunger on his face curbed into something softer, something she didn't know what to do with.

You're beautiful, he murmured, seconds before his mouth found hers in a deep, open kiss. He tasted of honey wine and her own arousal, an unexpectedly pleasant combination. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It struck me the moment I first saw you.

His bare skin was so warm against her own, each contact point jolting her with a feeling of rightness. They slotted so perfectly together, his cock nudging at her entrance as she wrapped her legs around his waist, their tongues moving together and their fingers locking so that there wasn't a single part of their bodies and souls that wasn't entwined as Rhys pushed himself in.

Then paused.

Feyre fought a snarl.

Tell me you want this, he said. Forget about the bargain. Tell me this is about more than the money.

I want this. Feyre pulled at him, clashing their noses together from how fiercely she clutched at his face. She pushed her heels into his muscular backside, trying to urge his hips deeper. I want you, Rhys.

He groaned, pushing his hips forward.

The stretch of him was exquisite. Feyre had never felt anything quite like it—the decadent pleasure made sharper by the slight burn as he pushed in further, slowly, ensuring she felt every inch, every delicious place they were joined.

But that was just one layer of the overlapping sensations. There was also the cradle of his body, surrounding her in warmth. The soft lips against her neck, panting sweet, reverent breaths of, Feyre—oh, Feyre.

And then their minds. One seamless, blended entity of magic, of starlight. She could feel him everywhere, no piece of her soul untouched, but she could see all of him, too. Like gazing upon the very fabric of his life, woven from the moment he was born—maybe even before then.

If she plucked at one of the threads, she wondered what she'd find. A memory? A vital fragment of his being?

She wouldn't dare, not when she could feel him staring back so… openly. Like he wouldn't stop her if she tried. It was vulnerable in a way she didn't know how to honor. In a way that made her wary.

You are… Feyre trailed off, failing to find a word that articulated what she saw, what she felt.

Perfect.

That snapped Feyre out of her awe. She blinked, refocusing on her physical body, where he was shaking as he held himself still, letting her adjust and…

And just staring at her. His lips parted open, mouthing a word she couldn't make out as his wild eyes darted over her, studying every detail.

Adequate, Feyre said, narrowing her eyes at him. I was going to go with 'adequate'.

For a moment, Rhys said nothing, his brows pinching together in confusion. And then he seemed to snap out of it, barking a laugh that echoed through the starry cavern of their minds.

I was talking about you, smartass. He leaned down, licking a stripe up her throat that sent ripples of pleasure down her spine. But allow me to demonstrate just how 'adequate' I can be.

He withdrew his hips, just slightly, then plunged them forward, grinding deep as Feyre clawed at his back, panting.

Rhys let out a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. In their minds, it became a clap of thunder, his magic roiling, surrounding her in zapping, crackling power. Her hair stood on end, her pulse quickening from the thrill, like standing at sea during a storm.

She dug her nails harder, certain she was peeling back skin, and he snarled in encouragement, withdrawing and snapping his hips. Again.

I've thought about this, he rasped, punctuating his words with another hard thrust. Every damn day since our last bargain, Feyre.

He drove into her harder, relentless. Grunting, I haven't been able to get your scent out of my nose.

I haven't been able to get you out of my gods damned mind.

Those words rippled through the space between their minds, echoing his confession. Feyre rolled her hips up, begging him to go harder, faster. Trying to say, in her own way, that she couldn't stop thinking about him, either.

I thought—

His teeth grazed over her pulse, making it jump. Her breath hitched.

Go on, he said, voice molten velvet.

I thought I was supposed to be the one practicing my shields. But it's your mind that can't keep me out.

His laugh was rich, warming her bones. If you think I'm the one with all the power here, Feyre, you are mistaken.

Then, as if to disprove that very statement, he let go. Every restraint, every glamour, every attempt he made to act the average fae—it all disappeared in that moment.

Great, membranous wings unfurled behind his back, blanketing them in the scent of citrus and sea salt. With a splintering crack, his magic untethered, spilling darkness into the room.

Without her sight, it became impossible to differentiate between the mental and physical worlds. As if they existed in a liminal space between, where slapping skin became the thunderous collision of souls, crashing and merging together.

Feyre was certain she was screaming. She thought, distantly, he might have been too. Somewhere, her mortal body clenched around him, hot and fever-bright.

She heard her name, over and over, Feyre, Feyre, Feyre—

And then he shattered, too, shooting every star out of orbit, his magic flooding over her in wave upon wave. She should have been frightened, surrounded by so much unyielding power, but it felt oddly peaceful. Like diving into the sea from her dreams.

She floated through that presence, Rhys buried inside her, both of them panting.

When he withdrew, so did the magic.

It was too bright. Feyre cringed, burying her face into his heaving chest, not caring the least that he was covered in sweat and shaking. They both were.

When she finally pulled away, blinking into the light, she found a pair of stunned violet eyes blinking back. For the first time since meeting him, he looked dumbstruck, mouth opening and closing like he was floundering for words. Like maybe all daemati sex didn't feel that… world ending.

For a long moment, they only stared, catching their breath.

Feyre took the time to reconstruct her mental walls, finding it oddly empty inside her mind without his presence.

Meanwhile, Rhys rubbed a hand down his face, then his chest, feeling absently at his ribs. She wondered if she'd accidentally hit him there when everything went dark.

She felt a bit battered herself. Sticky and sweaty and sore in far too many places. Tomorrow he'd probably take pleasure in laying her out to count each of his bite marks.

"Was that adequate enough for you?" Rhys asked, finally breaking the silence.

Smug bastard.

Feyre shrugged. "You're the High Lord who's supposedly so difficult to please. You tell me."

He smirked. "Lay back, Feyre."

Her mouth popped open. Surely he wasn't serious.

"Already?"

Rhys crawled toward her, wedging his massive body between her thighs. "I told you I wouldn't stop until I've had my fill." He flashed her a wicked smile as he lowered his mouth to her cunt, licking at their shared spend like it was a delicacy.

And I'm not nearly close to finished with you.

-

At some point, they did stop fucking long enough to eat and bathe—just barely.

Rhysand was ravenous. And Feyre didn't know what had gotten into her, but she was, too. They couldn't stop. Even long after they were exhausted, they kept touching and kissing until they collapsed completely tangled in each other.

Feyre had gotten maybe an hour of sleep, if that, when she woke up to pee.

She took her time on the way back to bed, marveling first at the sleeping form of the most powerful High Lord. He didn't look nearly so intimidating when he was naked and snoring, the blankets strewn haphazardly over his muscular legs.

If she had the time, she would have liked to draw him like this. No one else in the world got to see this version of him.

Except the other females he bedded.

That… was a sobering thought. The reminder that this wasn't some sacred, meaningful tryst. He was paying to fuck her, no different from any other whore in the upscale pleasure house she heard he frequented often.

With burning cheeks, Feyre turned away from his sleeping form, refocusing on why she was here to begin with.

His personal bedroom was larger than the one she'd stayed in last time, though only slightly. He had a worktable, scattered with paperwork and curious trinkets. Star charts and models of planets and books upon books of topics she couldn't discern.

That was another scalding reminder of how far apart their worlds were.

She was really only good at one thing.

Feyre tiptoed to his bedside table, silently pulling the drawer open to inspect its contents. More books, a pair of reading glasses, a velvet box, and a dark crown that she assumed had wound up in here after a late night at some formal gathering.

She imagined Rhys winnowing directly to his bedroom, flinging the crown into the bedside drawer, and collapsing atop the mattress.

It couldn't be easy, this life.

Feyre lifted the crown, measuring its weight in her hands, before she indulged the childlike impulse to place it on her head.

It couldn't be hard, either. Better than starving. Better than whoring yourself to survive.

She rose from his bedside table, searching for a mirror to admire how she looked in a crown, but a hand at her wrist stopped her.

Rhys was reclined across his bed, wings splayed beneath him, a lazy smile stretched across his lips.

"Find something you like?"

Panic seized her chest, squeezing like a fist as she scrambled to think of an excuse. "I—"

His eyes darkened. "Come back to bed."

"Rhys, I'm—"

"Keep the crown on," he said, tugging at her wrist with urgency.

She followed his pull, uncharacteristically pliant as he positioned her thighs over his face, groaning, "Gods, look at you," as he dived his mouth between her legs.

-

The final six hours of their bargain passed much the same.

There wasn't any noticeable shift to the way Rhys touched her, still slow and indolent, like he had all the time in the world.

It was nearly dusk and they were still in bed, still kissing though too exhausted to do much else. Even so, his kiss was gentle and thorough and maddening.

Feyre missed it when he pulled away.

"Your bargain's fulfilled," he said, breathing heavy. "I can take you home now."

It was a bad sign that it was dread coursing through her instead of relief.

Rather than untangle her alarming mix of feelings, Feyre fisted her hands in his hair, urging his mouth back to hers. Just one more kiss. To remember him by.

Rhys made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. He returned the kiss open-mouthed, cradling the back of her head to bring her closer. When she felt him harden against her thigh, they both groaned.

Rhys withdrew again, something achingly hopeful in his expression. "There's nothing preventing you from staying," he added. "If you want to."

That was what scared her—that fact that she wanted to.

Feyre kissed him again. Kissing him was easier than answering. Only, Rhys seemed to take kissing as an answer. He shifted closer, wrapping his wing around them so that she was cocooned in his heat, his scent, his touch.

And as the kissing grew more fervid, she didn't stop him from flipping her onto her stomach. He used his knees to wedge her thighs apart, spreading her open as those strong hands found her hips, urging them up, up, up.

She buried her face in the mattress, already clutching tightly to the sheets in anticipation of that first, perfect thrust.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Rhysand." The voice was female—crisp and edged, entirely undaunted by the High Lord's responding snarl. "You're late."

"Leave us."

It was a direct, uncompromising order, and yet the knocking came again. Louder.

"We are not rescheduling this meeting again. I'm sure your playmate can survive without your cock for an hour."

Feyre was still pressed into the mattress, gaping at him over her shoulder at the way the female was speaking to him. At the way Rhysand was letting her speak to him.

And more so that he listened, turning to Feyre with an apologetic wince. "I need to go. But you can stay here." He paused, hesitating for a moment before adding, "I'd like for you to stay. I'll be back within the hour."

A cough on the other side caused him to blow out a long breath.

"Maybe two hours."

Feyre nodded, slumping into the mattress. Rhys pressed an apologetic kiss into a notch at the top of her spine, then the next. The next. He nearly made it to her ass before the door rattled with an irritated thump.

With a long-suffering sigh, Rhys lifted himself from Feyre's body. It was no easier than trying to lift a boat from the sea; they both felt heavier once they were separated.

"Rest," Rhysand said. "You'll need it when I'm back."

After less than an hour of sleep, the stack of pillows at the headboard was practically calling her name. Feyre made a show of nuzzling into them, wrapping the blankets around her as a surrogate for Rhysand's warmth.

She felt him staring at her. Heard the soft little hmph he made in the back of his throat. A pleased sound, like he enjoyed the sight of her nestled in his bed.

Then, with a wave of his hands, he was dressed, closing the door behind him. She heard him speak to the female on the other side, their voices too muffled to discern, but she could tell he was grumbling about something.

Feyre listened intently as those voices faded down the hall. She waited until she was certain they were gone.

Quietly, she crawled to the edge of the mattress and opened the bedside drawer. The crown had been tossed to the floor some time in the night, but the rest of the objects were still there.

Including that velvet box.

Feyre reached for it, parting it open with her fingers to confirm its contents.

From there, it took all of five minutes to slip on her clothes and bolt out of the town house without looking back.

[lebbys-world]

Hello, this is my first time requesting any sort of writing, but I've had this idea for a couple days now.

So the idea is, a todoroki x reader. Where reader (preferably fem) is obsessed with mugs, and it's pretty unexpected with people, because she has a resting-B*-face, and is very guarded due to seeing how twisted and weird people can be.

Anyway, in my mind maybe it's todoroki, deku, and bakugo's turn to go on the weekly shopping run, and they're down the dish isle (for some reason), and todoroki sees this mug he thinks reader would like because it has her favorite character on it. So they finish the trip, and he brings the mug to reader, she's so happy and excited about this mug that she's just sitting there unable to express how happy she is so she's tears up a bit, but looks at him and out of nowhere basically tackles, this man into a hug.

That was my idea you don't have to use it, but I just thought this was so cute and had to see it written. Thank you, have a nice day/evening/night ☺️

A Mug for a Hug

Todoroki x fem!reader, established relationship, collections/hyperfixations, fluff !!

notes: thanks so much for the request !! i hope i was able to put your idea into words, even just a bit !! i also used third person for this one, just for the sake of switching perspectives between the reader, Todoroki, and narration !!

Come the end of the week, each of the class 1-A students were given their usual chores for around heights alliance - the method coordinated and conducted by none other than the class president himself.

Insisting that everyone pull their weight, Ida charted who would make dinner, clean the common room, take out the trash, gather groceries, and the like.

This week, Y/N's eyes scanned the posting, her duty was to help make meals every other day, alongside Mina.

Smiling to herself, she fortunately seemed to get one of the best outcomes of this random chore raffle.

As her eyes carried on looking over the paper, they landed on a pair of three names listed below “buying snacks and groceries”:

Midoriya, Bakugo, & Todoroki 

Oh goodness.

Those three definitely won't make it back with the food intact. 

Seemingly noticing the situation he was in himself, Todoroki looked blankly at the board, then looked over to Y/N. 

“Hey, Sho, please try to keep all the food intact, okay?” Y/N chuckled, egging her boyfriend on a bit. “If you don’t, Mina and I won’t be able to make dinner for everyone.”

He smiled softly, “I’ll do my best, but you might have to bring it up with Bakugo. I’m sure he’s the one who really needs that warning.”

“Yeah, I’ll warn him as well.” She rolled her eyes, brows furrowing already at the thought of the conversation.

“Well, good luck. I’ll see you when I get back, alright?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, waving him off as he went down the hall.

Later that day, post-warning scolding, the three boys had managed to, rather uneventfully, gather all the groceries they needed.

As Bakugo yelled at Midoriya for the shopping list, Todoroki made his way down the adjacent aisle, biding his time as the other two double checked the cart.

The shelves of the neighboring aisle were lined with glass, a variety of unique ceramics sitting on top.

There were hand-made bowls, hand-painted plates, printed jars, and, yet, one thing in particular caught his eye.

Near the end-cap of the aisle was a small row of mugs, each with a custom print of a character across it.

He picked up one, smiling to himself, as he thought about the collection Y/N had in her room.

Keeping her interests to herself, Todoroki reminisced of the time she happily went around showing off her trinkets and collection to him.

It made him feel truly a part of her life - being trusted to see such an open and earnest side of her.

He picked up the mug with her f/c on it, running his hand over it gently, before going back to the others to finish checking out.

By the time the trio made it back to the dorms, evening had crept its way in.

In the kitchen stood Y/N and Mina, carefully preparing a broth for dinner while waiting for the remaining ingredients to make their way back.

The two laughing to themselves, Mina happily remarked when she saw the other three walking towards the kitchen, bags of groceries in tow.

“Well it took you boys long enough!” 

“Seriously,” Y/N chimed in, a smile on her face, “did you get lost in that store or what?”

“JUST TAKE THE DAMN GROCERIES-” 

A loud thunk was heard as some of the bags hit the table, Bakugo storming off.

Midoriya’s face paled as he went to make sure all the jars were still intact, rapidly apologizing for the actions that weren't his own. 

“Again, I’m really sorry about Kacchan! I hope you guys can make something good with what we bought, though! Please let me know if you need any help!”

The freckled boy bowed again, and ran off after Bakugo, likely insisting the hot-head apologize as well.

Left behind to help unload the dishelved bags, Todoroki put things away in the pantry one by one, chiming into the girls’ conversation.

As he reached the end of the bags, he carefully unwrapped the ceramic mug he had tucked safely away, and softly reached out for Y/N.

“Hey, I thought I’d get you something while we were out.” He smiled, showing it to her as she turned to meet his face. 

“I thought a mug with your f/c would be a good addition to your collection… though, if you already have it, I can return it and find you a different one..” he trailed off.

Awestruck, Y/N stood for a moment, not knowing what to do.

Her eyes watered, as her heart warmed.

She hadn’t known that Shoto would care so much about her interests like that.

No one ever did before - in fact, it was usually the exact opposite.

People would normally shy away whenever she became more open, so she often put up a mask, keeping what made her happy safe and away from anyone who dared taint it.

But, when she started dating Shoto, she settled on being herself.

She wanted to be herself, with him.

So she tried, and gave him a glimpse into her world.

He seemed happy when seeing her collection, and listening to her rant, even asking a few questions along the way.

Yet. after that, he hadn't brought it up again.

So, Y/N let it be.

But here he stood, smiling at her, a brand new f/c mug in his hands for her collection. 

He cared.

He really cared.

A tear fell down her cheek as she ran into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.

Todoroki stumbled a bit at the sudden hug, adjusting himself so as to not damage the mug at all. 

“Sho..” Y/N looked up at him, smiling wide, “thank you.”

“Of course,” his eyes shone back, as he quickly tightened the embrace.

The two haphazardly let go of each other, as Todoroki passed the new mug along to Y/N.

Within seconds her energy had shot through the roof, and she couldn’t stop talking about this f/c mug.

“I mean, HOW DID YOU FIND THIS??” She asked, carefully looking at the print. “This one was a limited run, and somehow you stumbled into it at the GROCERY store??”

“Well it was just sitting on the shelf..”

“Really??”

She ran over to Mina, proudly showing off the newest prized piece of her collection. 

“Mina, just look at what Shoto got me! Isn’t it the best?”

Mina laughed at her enthusiasm, “it really is! Why don't we wash it off and you can use it as your glass for dinner tonight?”

Y/N stood with her mouth wide open, her invisible tail wagging at the idea. 

“HOW DID I NOT THINK OF THAT??”

As the kitchen continued to fill with the warm aroma of food and the sweet sound of three friends laughing together, Y/N hugged her boyfriend once more, new mug in hand, and new, real, memories being made together.

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I hope you're well :)

Would you so kindly be able to do an Emily Prentiss x victim child!reader where reader is kind of young, maybe like between 6-10 and they've been held captive by the UnSub for weeks now and when the team finally finds the location, reader has gone mute and very cautious/scared of everyone and only allows (to an extent) Emily near them? Since she's the one who first finds them? Emily is very patient and comforts reader even if they don't speak and such. But reader eventually becomes comfortable enough to speak again, using short sentences and few words with Emily (maybe even some other team members, too).

Emily could possibly take them in but that part can be up to you!

I can't wait to see more of your work btw, you're so good!! Thx! Xoxo 💘

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topics of abuse, trauma, child neglecting, punishments and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: I have tried my best to accommodate this request. I have to say that I changed the request a little because I didn't want to write a 6 year old child being kidnapped by a stranger, so I just had to do it with the father who has a criminal record. I also had to shorten it and basically skip a period of time in order to fulfill the second part of the request. I hope it is still okay. Also had to split it into two parts, Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

Walls. Excessive tightness.

You did not know how long you had been in that closet, and you did not want to know either. Far too exhausted from all the panic attacks and the walls threatening to crush you. Your stomach was growling like it had been ever since your father decided to punish you for everything you did.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were glassy, but you were long past crying. That only made things worse. Your father knew no mercy, and certainly not for his scared and crying little daughter.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if you actually suffocated in that closet. Better to suffocate from the reducing air than to be suffocated by your own father. You would not grow old, you would not reach the age of 10. You were sure of that. You were convinced that something would happen to you before your next birthday. But so far you had gotten older every year and every birthday you were sure that it would be your last.

Your father would not let you sleep in your bed anymore, but at least today it was in the closet and not in the gazebo that you had to sleep in. It was late autumn and in the arbor, the roof of which had tiny holes, there was a risk of hypothermia and finally freezing to death. Your hand, which was squeezed between the closet door and your thigh, had now fallen asleep and despite your constant shaking, you felt immensely hot. You noticed your face starting to glow again- you had a fever from the cold that blew through the room at night. You carefully pulled your hand out from under your leg, hitting your head on one of the wooden insert panels of the shelves, causing a dull thud as it came loose and fell onto your body.

Your heart skipped a beat before stopping briefly, you squinted for a moment, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed and that your father had disappeared from his guarding position in front of the closet and was downstairs in front of the TV. But then you heard footsteps, quiet and muffled through the ajar door and the wood that surrounded you. It sounded nothing like your father and his firm, jagged steps and you begged that you had not misheard and were now in for a lot of trouble.

The door creaked and your breathing became increasingly quicker. You did not mishear. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and prepare yourself for what was to come. If your father saw you so upset, he might keep you here longer or deny you food for the next few days.

The key turned in the lock that locked the two doors together and you heard them slowly open, but did not dare to look outside. The fear of provoking your father when you greedily gasped for fresh air and light was too great. You felt a slight breeze on your bare shoulders and cheeks. Still, you kept your eyes closed, hoping to avoid your fate.

Instead of your father's disapproving shouts and rough hands that would normally drag you out of the closet, there was only a careful, barely noticeable touch on your shoulder. When you raised your eyes, you saw a strange woman with black hair. "Hey, sweetie. I am from the police, you are safe now," the older woman's eyes were glassy. She seemed unsettled, as if she was afraid of breaking you with one wrong move, as if you were made of delicate mass. "You can come out now, your father can not hurt you anymore."

You nodded and a few moments later she had pulled you out of the closet, carefully and slowly so as not to hurt you, and immediately drawn you into her arms. You just let it happen, completely unable to understand that this was a foreign woman you were clinging to.

Your father had forbidden you from speaking to strangers and your fear of upsetting your dad was huge. But something about her voice made you give in. "I am Emily. What is your name?" she asked and rubbed your back soothingly, your courage to speak failing you. When the rest of her team stormed into the room a moment later and looked down at you in front of the open door, you panicked and shook yourself away from her before returning to the closet where you felt safe.

A hand signal directed to Derek and Hotch, they disappeared silently from the bare room with the remaining SWAT workers and left her alone with you. It took some time for you to gain confidence and crawl out of the wooden wardrobe again. The young woman had talked her head off with various topics in order to give you a feeling of reassurance.

You followed Emily's hand movements carefully, and at the sight of the little package of gummy bears, your mouth watered and your stomach began to make itself known. "Someone is really hungry!" She whispered and smiled softly before opening the small package and holding it out to you.

You carefully sat up, occasionally glancing at the door so that you could move back into the closet as quickly as possible in case of an emergency. But nothing happened. The black-haired woman pointed uncertainly but grinning at the package. "The green ones are my favorite. And what are yours?" you rummaged through the tiny package with your fingers until you held a red gummy bear between your fingers and showed it to her. "The red ones? Uhh, they are yummy!"

You jumped away while the first bite, she had raised her hand too quickly. She shook her head, swallowing hard. Emily had not thought for a split second. “Can I feel your forehead?”she asked after a short hesitation and you nodded, afraid of upsetting her like your father, granting her permission.

She gently placed her hand on your sweat-covered forehead. You were feverish. She slowly lowered her hand carefully again and watched you as you hesitantly gnawed on a gummy bear. Your father did not like it when you just wolfed down your food and often had taken it away when fell into a deep hunger.

Emily continued to watch you, her eyes sad and exhausted. You cocked your head, wondering if you had done something wrong. When your eyes met for a moment, you hesitantly reached for her free hand and placed her favorite gummy bear in her palm.

You found a kind of care and hope in her presence. Hope that you can still lead a normal life and never be locked in the closet by your father again. Emily caught the very first smile you gave her before you stood up and carefully fell into her arms. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she giggled softly, her heart swelling and beginning to pound wildly.

"No,"

Surprisingly, she widened her eyes while keeping her mouth wide open. After hours spent in this cold room with only forensics downstairs doing their work, she had finally managed to hear your gentle and childlike voice.

[blood-grove]

(Pup) Kid stuck in tree

dog!ghost + child!reader

662 words

tw; none

summary; humans little blunt claws can get them anywhere (maybe we should buy locks or chop down trees)

God fucking damn it.

What is with his weird human thing and getting into places they shouldn't be.

First off, They fucking somehow ended up in the garage and on top of one of the highest shelves almost all of Nik's things strewn about on the floor all because Price had revoked some of there toys.

Another thing apparently humans even when there as young as Pup are very clever and are quick to find out where they hid the sweets he remember Gaz's tired expression in the early morning as he dragged them back to there room by the scruff Pup later on getting a scolding. And now Ghost felt like he should give up now,

Staring up into the tree that the fucking pup had gotten themselves into, How? He didn't fuckin' know but they were stuck whimpering like a newborn as he sighed trotting over.

"How the hell did you climb this.." Ghost groaned as he looked around the tree looking for some possible way they used there blunt little claws and flat feet to get up there. "I- I don't knoww-" You whined sniffling as you clung onto the thick branch refusing to look down trembling.

Ghost sighed heavily as he got a good look at where they were as he propped himself up on his hind legs front ones supporting himself against the tree taking a moment to consider his options,

He could one go and get anyone fucking else to deal with this,

Two leave them there (Heh),

And three have pity on the idiotic Pup and help them down..somehow.

Two sounds pretty good.

So why was he climbing the tree claws digging into the tough bark using the stronger branches to help his ascend pulling himself onto the branch they had clung too rolling his eyes ever so slightly flinching as they let go of the branch and clung onto me.

"T-Thank you!-"

"Don't thank me we haven't even gotten down.." "Oh"

Yeah to say the least he didn't plan this out well he had no idea how he'd guide them down maybe carry them? No they were almost as heavy as e was the added weight would make any grip he had.

To say the least he was thoroughly embarrassed as Gaz let up the self rising ladder, In other news Soap was also in the tree with them now daft bastard had gotten spooked his excuse for coming up and getting stuck as well (also for adding pressure to the branch Ghost doubt could hold much) was that we looked like two giant cats and not wanting a repeat of what happened back a few months ago he had to check first.

I think I may retire I'm getting to old for this shit Pup was at least more grateful than Soap both of them were basically children.

Thought it was nice to see a little drawing of him with a cape at his door the next morning, He tucked it away in his drawer and he stretched getting on with his 'absurd' early morning routine no one should be awake really other than Price but all he found was Pup in the main room asleep having clearly tried to stay awake long enough to see him if the several drawings on him were a clue.

Picking Pup up was relatively easy trying not to wake them as he carried them by the scruff back to there bed pulling the covers over them and the extra ones too the lack of fur always made them worry about the upcoming winter months they'd been having special clothes made for them of course but that was a surprise.

What also was a surprise was Pups arms wrapping around him gently mumbling about staying, Which he thought about and said no.

Laying down as they lightly hugged him it didn't take much for them to fall asleep entirely.

Maybe he could sleep in for another hour.

[randoimago]

Hi omg I’m so excited hopefully this request is ok and makes sense. I really like your work so I’m a tad nervous. But basically how would Yusuke, and Ryuji (and Mishima if possible if not that’s also completely understandable) be around their very short S/O like 5 feet 2 inches tall or less level of short. I hope that makes sense if not feel free to ignore me.

Fandom: Persona 5

Character(s): Yuuki Mishima, Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa

Note(s): Found a height chart for the group. Futaba and Haru are both short (5'2" and less) queens and I love them. Also, I'm always happy to write for Mishima, he's my goofball 🥰

Mishima

He finds the height difference to be adorable. You're his very cute S/O and he'll gladly help you with whatever you need. Even if you don't really need his help, he'll still offer it. Sure, a step stool would probably be enough for you to reach something, but he still wants to be a useful boyfriend.

Mishima is there to defend you if he hears anyone else saying some kind of short joke to you. Even if you find them amusing, he's still defending you because he knows those jokes can get old quick and doesn't want your mood to potentially sour because the jokes get old.

Yes, you might be his short S/O, but if you want to maybe play video games with him (please) then he'll gladly be your knight in shining armor in that too. He'll happily be your healer if you want to tank. Even if it is in a video game, he finds it so freaking attractive if you defend him despite your smaller stature.

Ryuji

Absolutely leans on you, placing his arm on the top of your head and little things like that to mess with you. It's all done in good fun and he'd never want to actually hurt your feelings, but he's the type of boyfriend to do that stuff.

Ryuji accidentally puts things on high shelves where you can't reach. It's legitimately an accident because he's just placing things where he's always used to having them. He didn't even think about the fact that you can't reach. He is amused when he sees you struggling but then he moves to help you.

He would be happy to pick you up and give you piggyback rides and such though. Even if it's not the best on his knees, he will still try if it makes you happy. Ryuji gets a bit flustered with the affection, but he'll still do it if you ask enough.

Yusuke

Yusuke doesn't intentionally makes short jokes, but he bluntly comments on your height now and then if you need his help to get something from a higher shelf. Again, he doesn't mean for it to sound like a joke, he just says it without thinking of it. Will apologize when he sees you're upset.

Despite the accidental insults, he doesn't really treat you any differently. You're his S/O and that's what he sees you as. That said, if he does have art on the mind then it is interesting for him to see the perspective change for you. Might ask you to take photos of things at your eye level so he can try some new painting idea or something.

Is a bit hesitant with introducing you to Futaba. She's also very small and the last thing he wants is for her to corrupt you and then he's dealing with two tiny gremlins, one being his S/O. If you're already a gremlin then he just sighs and deals with it.

Taglist: @reo-the-leo

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for basically stealing 300$ or so worth in blank paperwork from my job?

I'm a minimum wage worker for a large car dealership and repair.

In recent years, our dealership is switching from a paper-based system to a completely online one. Originally, customers coming in to buy, sell, or repair their own cars would fill out empty insurance paper work forms for our service and sales people to sort out.

One day, they asked me (because I have to do everything around here) to throw out every blank registry form, every insurance form, every car information form- every blank form a customer would use?

"We don't need it anymore. We're going fully digital. Throw it all out. It's a lot of paper, and it's a slow day. You can take breaks if you need to." This is the basic gist of what they told me. No, I wasn't getting paid extra to do all of this; it's a car dealership.

And there were about 12 shelves, two times as tall as I am, filled to the brim with all these old fill-in-the-blank car information forms. They were right, it would take a few hours to constantly put stacks of them into the trash, roll them out to the dumpster, and repeat.

So, a few rounds in- I look at all this paper, and I'm like... Well. This is just a massive waste of paper. And I really like origami.

I love to make rabbits, fish, claws, dragons, all kinds of stuff. It makes me happy. Sometimes I do it on lunch with the napkins I get from restaurants nearby. And I'm a minimum wage worker. And I don't like paying for origami paper.

Nobody really goes back into storage unless they need keys, and it was a slow day, so I figured no one would catch me doing my big scheme. I put the paperwork in the trash as usual, but instead of dumping it into the dumpster, I put it in my car out back in the employee parking. I did this until my backseat and trunk was basically filled with blank paperwork.

It took about an hour an a half, because I'm kinda fast with this garbage collecting and rolling stuff. I am also the guy who is basically taking out all of service's trash each morning. The place would fall apart into a dirty mess without me.

It's probably a break of confidentiality and also stealing to take all that paperwork, but 1. It was empty. No customer information was on any of this crap and, 2. They were gonna have it thrown out anyway.

My paper now. I still have crap-tons of it, and I'm making so many cool origami animals.

What are these acronyms?

[ohblackdiamond]

the story of mandate (conclusion)

Part I is here. Here is the completely signed magazine.

I went to a Paul event thanks to my dear friend @elrohare and I was a woman on a mission. This was my holy grail, my twelve labors of Hercules, my ultimate sacrifice of good sense, my Mandate, if you will. Paul is a man of constant sorrow who's seen trouble all his days. Paul had not known trouble until he saw my face again a mere two months after his last time.

Unlike Gene, who will randomly set a date to hand out his crap for hilarious prices, Ace, who will appear at any 500-1000 seater across the country and balefully advertise his meet and greets onstage, and Peter, who will roll out of bed every six months for a horror convention, Paul does his events at Wentworth galleries across the country. Paul is basically like Pokemon Red's Porygon. You can get him, but he'll take everything you have.

I was prepared. I had done the legwork and the paperwork. Part of my purchase included an autographed item. (Please note that this is not nearly the entirety of the, uh, Paul Stanley Experience, if you will-- this is only the Mandate aspect of it. There was more!)

Paul remembered both of us. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, couple months, since February, yeah." I'm actually sort of not shocked he remembered us since neither of us look like typical KISS fans. There is also a very large height difference between us, so we are distinctive. We talk. I manage some conversation, some of which is sort of funny. But I'm not here to provide Paul with wit and candor. I'm here for Mandate, which he has already by that point seen the back of even with me trying to cover the naked men in the tub with my phone. He has already also seen the front of it, with its doodled-on-by-Gene cover. He has seen it open, because I had to set it down in order for us to take our picture together. He has probably spent the whole rest of our conversation leading up to this determining what to say to the lone weirdo that has not given him RARO, his solo album, his other solo album, the KISS comic book (mint condition), or various and sundry other KISS collectibles.

He has hit on it. He gestures to the president of Wentworth who is, incidentally, the one that's borrowing my phone to take our pictures. He comes closer as Paul shows him the magazine, along with me.

"Gene drew on it [the front cover of my copy]," I say.

"Mandate... this is the very first magazine we were ever in." (Peter said the same thing in his first book. They are both technically incorrect, but far be it from me to correct Paul Stanley on things that happened before I was born-- and to be honest, knowing what I know about how slow it could end up being to go from writing a feature for a monthly magazine to it actually being published, it wouldn't surprise me at all if they'd done the magazine some months prior to it being on the shelves).

"Our manager at the time said he could get us into a magazine. We didn't know it was a gay magazine. I mean, whatever you're into, but... ["I wasn't," basically, though I don't know if he said those two words specifically]....." as he flips, completely needlessly, through the pictures, sort of slowly, until he gets to page eight and page nine, where all three of his bandmates have signed in black Sharpie. "Of course, they blew me [the photo] up. ... And Gene drew on it."

I finally manage to pipe up.

"Yeah, Gene texted you about it, purportedly, anyway...."

"Yeah, he did."

"He did? Really?"

He looked like he was weirdly thoughtful. Well, sounded like he was. Maybe even a little bit amused. I had a hard time looking too hard at him while this was going on, and I found myself looking more at the naked men he was flipping through. But I had my plan and I would not be too distracted. I had brought my own black Sharpie, since I knew he had a penchant for signing in silver (this is because his Wentworth artwork always comes with an inscription on black paper that he writes on in silver). The Sharpie was right there and, possibly because he was keenly aware of my level of distress at the thought of Mandate being signed in a different color, he obediently took it and signed it and shut it, and handed it back to me. My smile could've broken through my dimples.

Triumph complete. Thank you, @elrohare for again allowing me the pleasure of coming with, and I was glad to plus-one and for once, return the favor.

Thank you, Mr. Paul Stanley of KISS. And thank you to Peter, Gene (especially Gene!), and Ace. I hope Mandate gave you all an unexpected blast from the past, and I really wish I'd told Paul that Peter quite appreciated the ass on the guy on the front cover. Maybe next time.

[drkmgs]

!System Error!

Cipher (Fast and Furious) x Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, cursing, violence is mentioned, sex is mentioned, mentioned of child lost, divorce mentioned

Story type: One shot

I absolutely have no idea how hacking works, but I do know how hard programming is, because I had to learn the basics, but still can't programm. I think I know more html than any programming language. (lol) This was a request via DMs and I don't remember the plot I was planning for this one, so I came up with a new one. TBH, I didn't watch Fast and Furious, so I have no idea what the plot is.

Happy Pride Month!

"Fuck!" You cursed and slammed down on your desk. This was the ninth time already that someone has tried to get into your system, and sadly, they now succeeded. You pressed a red button to shut down all of your devices, took your leather jacket from your computer chair, and swiped a card to call the elevator.

Entering the elevator, you only had one person in your mind who would annoy you by hacking into your system, and they won't stop until they get what they want. So, you are going to pay them a visit and share a piece of your mind, which might involve violence.

Arriving at the garage level, you took one of your helmet off the shelves, carried it to your recently purchased motorcycle, and settled on it before putting the helmet on. Then, you drove out of the garage onto the streets.

—

On the other side, Cipher leaned back on her chair, putting her feet up on the desk, satisfied with her work. Though she might regret this later on when she hissed at her fresh wounds. It didn't take long for her peace to vanish into thin air when she heard a familiar voice shouting not far where she sat.

"Where the fuck is she?!" You push the guard trying to stop you from entering the room, the guy is twice the size of you and yet you are able to push him away. The guy keeps trying, but once he makes eye contact with Cipher, she dismisses him with a lazy wave of her hand, and he is gone.

You marched with clenched fists to her, and she looked up at you when you stopped by her side, giving her a death glare. "Stop hacking into my system when you're bored, I have been telling you that for the last months now." You said through your teeth, fists still clenched tight.

"You should strengthen your walls then. Where I can't easily pass through." She shrugged and smiled at you. SMILED?! Now, you are 100% sure she's gone mad. You are about to lose your mind and might just throw her against the wall.

You leveled down to her, aggressively pulling the chair by the restarm to face you, which cause her feet to drop on the ground and lean forward to you. You trapped her with both your arms in the seat. You looked straight into her eyes. "Listen here, Cipher. You might be one of a hella cyber hacker, but don't forget who broke your fingers once, and I'm not far from doing it a second time. Stop lingering around my system to get my attention! You blew your chance two years ago!" That last sentence wasn't planned. It shouldn't have made it out of your mouth, but you couldn't help it.

If she was doing this, because she wants to get another chance with you, this is where you need to tell her that it is never going to happen. Ever. Again. You knew her already. She'll do everything to get want she wants and then toss you out like you have never shared a bed together and made her cum multiple times with your mouth and fingers.

It was clear that the last sentence caught both of you off guard. You immediately stepped back from her as if the chair you were hold was made of lava. You closed your eyes, pinching the space between your eyes, and exhaled. "J-Just remove yourself from my system. Please." Only a few seconds later, you hear fast keyboard noises and a loud enter. "It's gone. You may go now." For the first time in your life you hear her cold voice, it shot through your cracked heart.

But this situation where both you are right now wasn't your fault. It was hers. She made the choice. She didn't have the right to be mad at you. "Thanks. If you didn't make that choice two years ago, maybe we wouldn't have ended up like this." You had your back facing her.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" If it wasn't quiet in the room, you might have not heard what she said, but the silence of the room was suffocating and made things easy to hear. You scoffed, turning around facing her. "Your apologies can't bring my child back to life!" Cipher stands up straight towering over you. "She is also my child!" She shouted at you. "You! Have no right to say that! The moment you chose that stupid plan of yours, you lost the right to be her parent! So fuck off, Cipher!"

Every sentence you said you pushed your fore finger onto her chest, you saw red, and it's a miracle you aren't throwing punches at her or even throwing her across the room, probably it's because you both got tired of expressing your anger to each other physically, so you are doing it emotionally now.

You can't do this anymore. "I want a divorce." You announced. Cipher staggered a step back, leaning her hands on her desk to keep her up on her feet. She didn't think that the pain she had caused you was this bad. She thought giving you space and time, everything would go back to its own place, and you would eventually forgive her, but she underestimated the damages that had been done.

Is she ready to let you go? Does she want to let you go? Do you deserve someone better? Definitely. "No." Cipher pushed away from the desk and faced you. "Don't make things harder for us, Cipher. We can't see each other without biting each others heads off. Hell, we don't share the same bed anymore! We are partly living in our offices!" You argue. "Then let's get back together! We can fix this! We don't have to go down that road." Cipher took one step closer to you, which made you step back. "Please." You could hear the desperation in her voice, but you chose to ignore it.

The pain is too much. You stepped further away from her. You shook your head, tears threatening to fall before it could you turn around and left her.

[idyllic-ghost]

it’s ME ya girl. I have a request!! nr. 12 (Academic Rivals) & 13 (are you still avoiding me?).

IDEA: so obv because it is me, it’s gotta be smutty right (but you can totally be free about how smutty you want it to be!!) 🤩 and basically academic rivals chan and yn who were at the same party a week ago or smth and during truth or dare yn was asked if she had ever fantasised about chan (or anything else that like tells she has been thinking about him in a sexy way 🤭) and he finally catches her in the library and BAMM… smutty time.

sending you love and hugs and congrats again on 2k!!! ILY 🫶🏻

a/n: waaaa thank you so much ! i love this request !

title: fantasies

pairing: college!dino x college!reader

warnings: public sexual acts, oral (m receiving), use of degrading names

word count: 1.4k

Requests are closed

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The hallway suddenly felt empty as you saw Chan at the end of it. A beat up Nirvana shirt hanging loosely around him, although it somehow accentuated his shoulders. For a week, you had managed to avoid him. Actually, you had done everything in your power to avoid him. Which had been a living nightmare, considering that most of your classes were together - something you had done with intent, as a way to fuel your rivalry. It wasn't petty or even just for fun, it genuinely helped you motivate yourselves to do better.

However, your rivalry had made you grow closer - somewhat becoming friends, in a strange way. It was the kind of friendship where if you happened to be at the same party you'd talk in larger groups. During these parties, your friends would make frequent jokes about the two of you having a sexual tension between you. Which is how you ended up in the situation you did.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Alright!" Your friend put down the now empty bottle in front of the circle of people. "Let's play truth or dare!"

Some groaned, some cheered, and some where too drunk to understand what was happening. Your friend, who was the one who finished the bottle laying in front of you, flicked their wrist and spun the flash around. The liquid wasn't fully gone, and a few drops landed on the ground and the people sitting closest. The head of the bottle pointed to you, and everyone let out an "ooo".

"Truth," you said, gaining a few boo's from the circle.

"I have the perfect question for you!" they slurred out, "Chan's here, right?"

You tensed up at the sound of his name, you eyes immediately locked eyes with him. He tore his gaze away from you to look up at your friend.

"There he is! Okay, okay..." They calmed down their laughter, "Y/N, have you ever had any fantasies of your nemesis..? We've all seen how you look at each other!"

Your friend was very right. However, they also knew about the sex dream you once had of your rival. With this obviously targeted comment, you got flustered. Too drunk to come up with a lie, you told the truth. A meek "yes" escaped passed your lips, but you didn't say another word about it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Chan was approaching you, fast, and you bolted into the library - thinking that you can hide between the shelves and the people there. Luck was not on your side because there was not a soul in the library - you couldn't even find a librarian. So when Chan calls out your name, it echoes loudly in the empty library.

"Why are you running from me?" he asked.

There was only a bookshelf separating you now, and you looked at him through an open space where books should have been placed.

"I'm not running," you lie.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N," he said, almost reassuringly.

He went to walk around the shelf, making you stumble back. Chan noticed your nervous movements and stopped trying to walk around the shelf.

"Are you serious?" he laughed.

"I'm very serious, Chan, leave me alone," you pleaded. "It's too weird!"

"What's weird?"

"Last week, when I-" You groaned and finally walked around the shelf yourself. "Listen, if you're here to gloat then I won't have it."

"I'm not." Chan raised his hands up in defense and approached you. "I just haven't seen you around much. I was wondering if everything was okay."

"No, everything's not okay!" you exclaimed, "I've embarrassed myself in front of you, and I know you won't ever let me live it down!"

He stared at you, and you couldn't make out what he was feeling. The tension was thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. As if it wasn't bad enough, Chan's slow steps had accumulated into standing right in front of you. He grabbed your wrist, as if he was already afraid that you'd run away.

"I know I've put you through a lot of hell sometimes," he admitted in a unusually soft tone, "But I wouldn't kick you when you're down, Y/N."

"Wouldn't you?" you scoffed.

"No." He swallowed thickly. "Not when I've had those thoughts too..."

Chan's words made a shiver run down your spine. He pulled you in closer by your wrist. You stumbled and put your hand against his chest to steady yourself. When you looked into his eyes you saw nothing but pure need and adoration - he wanted you. Bringing your hand up to his cheek, you used it to bring his face closer to yours.

"Would you like to try some of those fantasies out?" you murmured, lips inching closer to his.

"Right here?"

"Right here." You bumped your nose against his, "I need you to take me right here."

His lips finally smashed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to push yourself impossibly close against him. One of his hands snaked around your waist, while the other leaned against the bookshelf. The two of you moved, possibly knocking down some books, and managed to get to a table. At first he pushed you against the surface of the table, but before he could prop you up you took the lead and turned both of you around. Breaking the kiss, you began kneeling - clawing down his chest as you did.

"I want your cock in my mouth, now." You looked up at him as you fumbled with his pants. "You've got no idea how much I've drooled at the sight of it through your pants."

"I think I've got some idea." He chuckled and helped you pull his pants down.

You dismissed his comment, and went to place kisses over his fabric covered cock. He was already hard, which only made teasing him more fun.

"Does it excite you that someone could walk in at any moment, Chan?" you asked and smiled when you felt his cock twitch under your palm.

You took his cock out of his underwear, admiring the size as it bounced up against his stomach. Taking it in your hand, you pumped him a few times. You pressed a kiss to the reddened tip of his cock, watching him squirm as you did. Chan ran his fingers through your hair, gripping it slightly.

"I thought you wanted to be a good little whore and suck my cock," he said. "Isn't this what you dreamt of, baby?"

Before you could reply, he shoved your mouth onto his cock. You gagged around it, and it sent a jolt down to your cunt. Chan's grip loosened, and you started bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Muffled moans and soft groans escaped Chan's lips. When you looked up at him, you saw him looking down with lust filling his eyes.

"That's right, baby, look at me." He grinned. "You're a good slut, aren't you? Maybe I should've done this to you earlier- maybe that'd shut you up for once. Is that right, Y/N? Does it take some good cock for you to keep your mouth shut?"

You moaned around him, continuing your movements. The need to please him filled your body, and you couldn't help but moan when he praised your efforts. Feeling him get closer to climax only made you more eager. Your mouth pulled off of him with a pop, your hand kept doing the job your mouth was doing before.

"Cum in my mouth," you rasped out, "Please?"

Chan didn't respond, instead he grabbed your hair again and pushed you back onto his cock. You let him hold you in place as he fucked your mouth, drool dribbling down your chin. You were lucky that no one was in the library to hear the sounds of your mouth being used - slurping as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Tears started stinging in your eyes, as you looked up to see his eyes shut tight and eyebrows knitted together. Chan's mouth hung open, not even trying to stop any noises that might come out. Your nails dug into his thighs. A string of swears left Chan's lips as he came down your throat.

"So good to me, Y/N," he moaned, "Was it that hard to just do as I say for once?"

"I'm bruising my knees for you and you can't even say thank you?" you joked and stood back up.

After pulling his pants back up, you felt his hands sneak around your waist. He was sporting a big, lovesick grin - still high on endorphins. Your hands cupped his face.

"You owe me an orgasm," you whispered.

"Sure, are you free now?" He pulled you in closer.

"Get me to the nearest bathroom and I'll consider letting you fuck me." You smiled.

[innovativestruggles]

Yuta & Rika - a speculative analysis

Like with basically any fandom out there, I'm about 3 years late with JJK 0 😩 Regardless, I finally watched it yesterday and subsequently really, really needed to discuss this topic before I forget.

As an anime only fan, I only heard of Yuta from bits and pieces in the anime and from the fandom. That would go for Rika too so I never really understood the extent of their relationship until I watched JJK 0. But oh man, when I watched it, these two took my entire heart and soul.

And whilst I do get why Yuta is shipped with Maki or Inumaki, Rika wins it for me. And before I jump into my explanation, I want to say it outright - Yuta and Rika gives me strong Obito and Rin vibes 😳

Anyways let's talk about Rika.

This sweet yet psycho girl is a super side character (much like Rin), but I did a bit more research into her and it explained so so much more about her character and why she is the way she is (both as human and cursed spirit). Rika lost her mother unexpectedly at the age of 5 and then her father during a hiking trip together at the age of 11. There are speculations (by paternal grandmother) that she is involved in the death of both her parents. I cannot say too much about whether a 5 year old would have too much influence over their mother, but I will shelve this for now. I want to focus on Rika and her father. There is an explanation that one of Rika's biggest dislikes is older men. Let me tell you this - an 11 year old child with an adverse dislike for a specific portion of the population (older men) points towards one thing - abuse. This is an educated guess on my end (and if I was given a case in real life about this, I would come to this hypothesis as well), but the trauma Rika endured shaped her personality and how she would end up attaching herself to Yuta. We don't know exactly what sort of trauma Rika went through, but my guess is some form of physical or sexual abuse. The development of a 'manipulative' personality towards adults is a form of a survival mechanism developed to keep herself safe. Rika's father most likely had a role in her abuse and hence the mystery of his disappearance (and how it alluded to the fact that Rika had something to do with it, together with the explanation of her manipulative personality).

Let's come back to Rika's mother. There are two theories/hypothesis to this.

A 5 year would have enough cognitive capacity to understand that they are in an unsafe situation. However, it is unclear whether Rika's mother had any involvement in Rika's abuse. But what I presume is that she did not have a close relationship with her mother. The reason? She gave her mother's wedding ring to Yuta. A child impacted by abuse by one parent and not the other means they would naturally be attached to the safe parent, so anything sentimental attached to the safe parent would give the child a sense of safety. To give something special away like her mother's ring means her mother meant very little to her, so Rika decided to re-symobilise the ring into something new - something for Yuta. And because an 11 year old most likely cannot afford a ring

The second theory would be that Rika had a close and safe relationship with her mother, and the giving away of the ring to Yuta symbolises the safety and security she finds in him. I.e. the element of safety and security she found in her mother has been transferred to Yuta (via the giving of the ring).

Regardless of what theory we go with, there is too little information regarding Rika's relationship with her mother. We don't know what happened to her mother, whether she died of natural causes or was murdered. But all we know is that Rika most likely endured severe abuse by her father (that may or may not involve other older men).

Looking into Rika's personality. Her proposal to Yuta is a dead giveaway of her need to locate a safe space. Yuta is Rika's safety net. They met at a time where both were quite vulnerable - Yuta being unwell and Rika having returned from a mountain climb where her father went missing. Rika's proposal is an indicator of her need for a new life, the idea of marriage is to be permanently attached to her safety net and to have Yuta take her away from whatever she experienced. Of course, 11 year old children do have a basic idea of what marriage is, but it seems like Rika has more of an underlying idea of what she would like to utilise the marriage concept for - that is, to escape and re-establish her safety within the one person she loves and trusts. This explains her personality as a cursed spirit - jealous, overprotective, intense, emotional and childish. Through trauma, Rika learnt ways to ensure she is kept safe emotionally, psychologically and physically. She is always having to survive day by day until she is finally able to manipulate her father out of her life (again this seems a likely scenario, given the very little info readers are provided). When the one person (Yuta) who comes into her life finally allows her to be a child - to play, to have fun and give her the life she should have been having, naturally Rika would be overprotective of Yuta. As I mentioned, Yuta is her safety net, and to have him taken away (by bullies, by another love interest etc), is the decimation of Rika's own safety.

We were given only very small snippets into Rika's life and what she was like as a human. But her personality carried over into her cursed spirit form, and the basic information provided in the character profile, are both more than enough to deduce that Rika's background is incredibly complex with multiple layers of trauma.

One really big thing I would like to point out is Rika's comment before she moved into the afterlife - she was happier accompanying Yuta as a cursed spirit than when she was alive. This is another important piece of information that showed Rika most likely experienced a significant amount of trauma as a human. What would force an 11 year old child to come to such conclusions? The only answer is abuse. As a cursed spirit, Rika is able to escape everything and be by Yuta's side (almost like the prospect of marriage - "take me away from all this and let me be by your side forever")

For Yuta, I can't speak too much about him because his background as a child is essentially a mystery. Not sure about his parents and how he grew up. But judging from his bond and connection with Rika, I presume he grew up quite lonely and friendless. Whether there was trauma, I don't know but it did mention he had to distant himself from his family when Rika became a cursed spirit. Regardless, Yuta's acceptance of her proposal and his happiness at the prospect of being together forever with her as they grow older indicates to me that Yuta may have some complexities in his childhood we don't know about. But it could just be that he genuinely had a normal childhood and Rika was the one and only person outside his family he connected with. However, we don't know whether his timid nature occurred before he met Rika or after she became a cursed spirit. There are too many unexplained parts with Yuta. Anyways, we know Yuta loved Rika immensely (as much as Rika loved him), and his refusing to accept her death is an indicator of his feelings towards her. Their love for each other is pure and innocent because they allowed each other to live in safety and to be children.

And even after releasing her spirit, Yuuta still held onto remnants of Rika. I do love the idea of Yuta being able to move on and give himself to someone else, but I feel Yuta has a lot more unprocessed emotions regarding intimacy - that though he freed Rika, he seems forever bounded by being with her and only her.

So here's my conclusion for this pairing - their background and their pure love is what really made me love them so much. Does all this sound very Obito x Rin to you? Whilst Yuta is able to bounce back from the grief with the help of a mentor and friends, Obito never did. But they both shared an immense amount of grief from the loss of their loved one at an early age.

And yes, I seem to love my tragic rare pairs...dear oh dear.

Anyways, these are all speculations based on canon materials. So if you have any interesting hypothesis, I'd love to hear it!

[ughgoaway]

Ace, yk you can't say stuff like this and run away, right? elaborate on the dog walker Matty idea pls! it'd be a nice change in dynamic a bit cause most fics here are him being the Matty we know -⎕

ahahah yeah i guess i can expand?? I did not think anyone would be interested in that fic I can't lie lol

it was a weird dream anyway, basically matty is a dog walker, has been for years and is known among the rich white man group as the guy who will walk your dog and not ask any questions. which is ideal considering some of the shit matty sees (sex workers, drugs, illegal business deals) because people think they can get away with awful things in the middle of the day on a Tuesday.

reader is one of the rich mens daughters, on a "gap year" from uni, (aka you don't wanna go to uni and your parents want you to) so you're living at home. you were gonna travel during the gap year, but your dad cut you off financially to try and make you "get a job" and "see the real world"

(You argue you could see the world better if you were travelling rather than restocking shelves in a tesco, he disagrees)

you can live at home rent-free because your mum insists your dad at least lets you do that, but you can't use their money for anything fun. you're at home all day because you still haven't found a job, but you don't walk your dogs. you just don't feel like it, and your dad pays someone to do that, so why should you???

you and matty grow to hate each other very quickly. every Wednesday, he comes to pick up the dogs and rolls his eyes when you open the door. he thinks you're a stuck-up trustfund baby, and you think he's a rude dickhead that always smells of wet dog and cigarettes.

eventually it turns into you hate fucking eachother. he sees you in a tiny bikini too many times, and you're sick of being set up on dates with guys who play tennis, so you're desperate to fuck someone your parents wouldn't approve of. so obviously, you two start having filthy sex.

at some point your dad would find out and it would be dramatic lol.

anyway, this was over the span of like 2 dreams and filled in with my conscious brain, so it's a weird mix. would be a shitty and random fic, I think, but my brain is best at those lmao <3

[the-fabulous-51]

im curious how you envision lightning ending up in radiator springs in the human-verse. i don't think you've mentioned it in any of your fics (except maybe that one chapter of whumptober). if you have put absolutely no thought into it that ignore this lol

I spent all day thinking about this

So. I have left.... .. Many things ambiguous cause I couldn't figure out how to make it fit exactly in the human!verse side of things XD

But I, like everyone else, have Thoughts:

Let's start with the trailers: so there are some very obvious differences in my human!verse and NASCAR, though I do take a lot of inspiration from irl racing (mainly the racing aspect itself). But where a lot of NASCAR drivers fly to their races, most of the guys in the human!verse here will ride in a trailer, either in the same trailer as their cars (basically a small room just for them tucked in the very back of the trailer closest to the truck part) or in a separate trailer that's very RV-like, depending on how much $$$ the sponsors want to spend. so, for example, Dinoco obviously would go the two-trailer way if not just outright flying the King out to a race if it's far (or with Cal's run, just opt to go the RV route since the two are family and live together easier than a lot of crew chief/driver combos can), where early on Rust-Eze isn't going to or has the money to spend on buying rookie Lightning a whole other trailer, especially if he doesn't have a crew chief sharing the space with him. So for his rookie year he's staying in a small, cramped trailer room that's very reminiscent of a small, pop-up camper room if you've ever stayed in one of those. It's got the bare minimum and the door opens along the side to the outside world or directly into the trailer where the car is.

my crude representation

The car, usually packed up by the pit crew, has to be secured by Mack this time, who is used to securing regular cargo from his past jobs and does not tie down the wheels correctly. there is no pit crew to double check and lightning, who does know how to do it properly, is too prissy to check it himself.

And lightning, being the drama (mc)queen he is, will sometimes opt to sit in the car in the trailer rather than the cramped bedroom (not that the car is any less cramped with the way the seat is but it's his happy place whether he'll admit it or not)

And same as the movie, he promises he'll stay up with Mack and falls asleep anyways, just in the driver's seat of the car (impressive, since those are Not comfy and he's still in his fire suit from earlier (stinky boy))

And same as movie, one of those toys on the shelves falls and opens the back door when Mack falls asleep behind the wheel and ends up in the rumble strips. The car, secured incorrectly, gets shaken out of the straps and starts creeping down the ramp until it ends up stock-still and facing backwards on an active highway.

Which is Bad news.

Lightning wakes to cars dodging him and he manages to start the car and whip it around in an adrenaline-fueled record time.

Mack is gone

And (because it's funny) Lightning's drivers licence is useless here (it's a Florida license and as someone who held a fl license for a while, in some places they do not give a fuck, they'll pretty much throw that thing at you and call for the next person) so it's been, oh, a few years since he's been behind the wheel of a car in a real road (I hc him as somewhere around 23-24 in the first movie) and between that and the adrenaline, he can't remember how to read the road signs to tell him where to go (and it's not like any of them are saying LA yet, theyre still a ways out.)

The rest of his chaotic journey through to RS is the same in the movie just cause that's my favorite scene in the movie and idc if it'd be impossible in real life. it's fun.

And I'm torn with Mack's side of things between not changing it and him stopping at a rest stop, getting something from inside, and as he comes back out seeing the back open and panicking bc he thinks someone stole the 95, only to then find Lightning missing and then thinking someone stole the 95 *and* kidnapped Lightning. Poor Mack.

So yeah. This was mostly me talking through the logistics of how trailers work in my human!verse but I feel like that's really important to how I imagine Lightning ending up in RS. Of course, after doc and everyone joins, Rust-Eze splurges on a whole other RV-like trailer for Lightning and Doc, with the others usually being put up in a hotel nearby or something. Rust-Eze not having an RV trailer is why in 'beginning another end' Doc and Lightning stay in a motel overnight. Even though Mack and the 95 trailer were still there, Lightning hates the little bedroom and opted to stay in a shitty motel room w Doc instead (also he has separation anxiety lol)

And in 'straight and narrow' lightning sits up in the front with poor Mack (who usually sleeps in the attached bedroom on the truck cab, which is not too dissimilar to Lightning's trailer room, just that Lightning has a smidge more standing room in his)

(So in my fics, when I say 'trailer' it's usually referring to something like an RV bus. Who drives it? Idk yall just roll with it lol)

Basically this puzzle boiled down to:

How does lightning end up separated from Mack and the trailer?

How does the car end up separated from the trailer?

How do the two get separated together?

How does Mack not notice until LA (or sooner, depending)?

I lean this way personally rather than the other popular version (also the movie writers' original version of events i believe) where lightning is accidentally left behind at a rest stop (which is also very valid!!) just because personally it doesn't answer more questions for me than it generates (but my alt events for Mack kind of pays homage to it bc it's still a very good version of events).

Lightning being separated with the car is important for obvious reasons and the og movie had a plausible swiss-cheese of events, so all I think it needs is some light tweaking before we got something just as (humanly ;)) plausible on our hands.

I have no idea if this answers your question or if I just went on the most unhinged ramble :)

[moonstruckdraws]

Luci Interacts Pt 2

technically it's the next day so technically I'm allowed to draw so- yeah I'll stop making excuses, I was so sooo bored

So! This is how Luci interacts with the Mad Dogz (there's a lot of reading, so just a heads up)

Luci: sigh "I hate how much you get me." Raph: "Ha ha! Really? Glad we can relate to each other."

When Luci first saw Raph, she thought he was so badass and be cool and spunky. Needless to say that she was immediately disappointed when she learned that he was a more of a softie, and she kind of dismissed any interactions with him. That is until she goes to their lair for the first time and sees his room and her eyes go to his stuffed toy collection. Raph would ramble on and on about them, and Luci would get invested. Luci doesn't fully understand the appeal, but when he gifts her a plush, she finds it oddly comforting and is always somewhere within her reach when she goes to bed. Their relationship expanded from there with Raph's room becoming another one of her safe spaces. Luci and Raph would relate with each other's anger issues (someone clearly having it much worse) and he would be one of the only people she'd talk about some of her issues with. Raph even shows her methods to deal with her short temper, which doesn't really work but the effort is what counts. Their bond is close but they don't do much aside from these small therapeutic talks in Raph's room. They have small talk, but don't have that much in common.

"I find Raph to be kind, and not in the suspicious way like that Beaver, and compassionate. He's a good friend to have and his fiery spirit to fighting makes him even cooler! I gotta have him teach me some moves. Maybe I can kick that trash eater's *** if I do. Speaking of him, the big guy loses some points for being all buddy buddy with the trash eater. Though knowing him.. it can't be helped so.. I don't hold it against him harshly."

Luci: "We're definitely killing this guy, right?" Donnie: "Oh we are going to ANNIHILATE them, my friend."

Luci is the closets with Donnie! She finds his sarcasm very charming and his sass being on the same level as hers. These two would verbally destroy ANYONE if they stood in the way (they're the mean girls). When they first met, Luci wasn't interested in him at all since he kept to himself. It was only when she meets S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N for the first time that she gets interested in what Donnie actually does. Luci is very interested in Donnie's tech, in contrast to Pico, mainly because of the lights. She also finds the sounds that they make to be quite pleasant. Luci zones out at everything Donnie says until she tells him to shut up; but if it's any kind of math, she's immediately invested and will assist in any equations Donnie is working on for projects. Her working in the junkyard, when it came to repossessing cars, she's actually a bit handy with tools. She's no expert but she can get things running, even if only barely, so she helps with what she can with building Donnie's inventions. Aside from them bonding over tinkering, they also watch tv shows together, mostly sci-fi related or specific dramas. Luci likes how Donnie is also straight forward like Repo and appreciates people like this because their simpler to understand. Adding the fact that Donnie is a terrible liar, she can read his ques even easier because she's still trying to understand them since being mutated. He's also the most helpful to her when overwhelmed from the blaring lights and constant noise of New York.

"Dee is pretty cool, ignoring his terrible music tastes. He's a bit talkative on things I don't understand, but his passion has my respect. His lab is the most interesting thing with all those robo things. I like tinkering with things in there, mainly big shelves he neglects to bolt correctly, so I tighten or loosen them so they're actually stable. Who knew a genius like him could forget the damn basics with simple things. I try to stay away from any of his bigger projects though.. the engines can be very loud.. And I hate to say it, but I understand the trash eater's point with robots. They don't gotta be everywhere doin' everythin' but they are handy. I like assembling them more then the end results and functions of 'em."

Leo: "Okay okay, you're gonna love this next joke" Luci: "Pff- please no more! They're so bad!" Luci: "LEOOOOOO YOU MOTHERF-"

Luci and Leo have a weird dynamic. One moment, they could be chill and cool and the next, Luci will want to rip Leo's head off. Luci likes Leo's sass and sharp wits and actually finds some of his jokes funny, though she doesn't do more than snort at them. Luci instantly liked Leo with his charisma, but finds him to be annoying. For a long time they would only be sassy with one another and their relationship wouldn't grow until Leo catches Luci watching tv, specifically a dramatic romance (for a reason I'll elaborate on another time). Leo would instantly be invested and the two of them would watch romances, dramas, and reality tv shows together. This grows them closer, but Leo's mischievous side screws with Luci a bit. Luci doesn't understand the concept of pranks as a way of messing with someone in a lighthearted way and instead sees it as an insult. Everytime Leo pranks her, she will literally hunt him down and attack him. She forgives him at the end of the day, but her lack of understanding and Leo's inability to not mess with someone, leaves their relationship stuck in this wishy-washy state of being good friends to awkward acquaintances.

"I like Leo, I really do but.. I just don't get 'im sometimes. He's the most fun to hang out with, but then he does things that make me angry and it's supposed to be treated as not a big deal. I've seen his brothers act the same way as I do at his antics, but we always seem distant by the end of it.. it's so confusing, honestly. Why are people so confusing? It makes me wonder why I should have friends at all sometimes. But then again, I know they have my back so.. clearly it's not all confusing, right?"

Mikey: "Hey Luci! How've you been? Still trying to fully tame Mrs. Nubbins and stuff..?" Luci: "Hm? Oh, yeah I guess."

Luci is indifferent towards Mikey. At first, Luci was untrusting towards Mikey as his brightness reminded her of Todd's kindness. She avoided him the most out of all the brothers, and their relationship took the longest to develop. But she'd notice all the drawings on the wall or the fridge and get sucked in by the splashes of colors. She finds out it's Mikey by catching him draw at one point. She'd observe from a distance before it became their little activity for Mikey to draw and Luci to just watch. It was a comfortable silence for them, and Mikey would be cheerful that they'd be growing closer. That is until the "Nothing But Truffle" episode when Mikey ditches Todd for Meat Sweats. Luci is aware that Mikey is a major fan of Meat Sweats and understood his desire to be friends with him; she even understood him leaving Todd to hang out with him. The problem was that, despite not liking Todd, she didn't like Mikey's actions. She didn't understand how he could easily cast away someone he considered a friend for a person they didn't even really know, instead idolized. This kind of broke their relationship as Luci started getting confused again. She wondered if Mikey would do the same thing to her, thinking a bit selfishly but its justified in this case. She gains a bit of sympathy for Pico when she sees his clear distaste towards Mikey's actions. As it stands now, they don't hang out unless someone else is present, and even then Luci won't initiate conversations. Luci is stuck on whether she can trust Mikey and wanting to at the same time. The situation is very confusing to her, so she acts like how she did when they first met, dismissive. (Mikey just cannot win, can he?)

"My thoughts on Mikey..? He's.. he's artistic, very talented in that. He's spunky and bright, I guess. And he's... I don't want to answer this anymore."