#this update felt short and expensive

[postsofsilver]

They might be the most toxic couple out there but when they have their little moments it makes me so soft

[risingsunresistance]

oh yea i forgot to post about this but. somehow we have managed to already get 3 of the new perfect gems

i got citrine and onyx from mineshafts, which from what i understand is dceently low odds, and ark managed to grab the aqua crystal from some random umber corpse FKJDHG

i think it's crazy that we managed to have no repeats up to that point, now all i need is the peridot and opal ones >:) you used to be able to forge perfect opal without the crystal, but i never bothered before the update bc gemstone grinding is kinda lame when you arent doing it for progression OR profit, and now that's not an option lol

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART THREE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

|PART ONE| |PART TWO|

The house was in shambles.

Mary had thrown almost every single dress she had bought on her bedroom floor, crying loudly that she ‘simply had nothing to wear’. Though you tried to reassure her that she in fact did, and that she would eventually find something that would make her stand out amongst the other debutants tonight, she didn’t believe you.

“This is all so hopeless!” She shouted sadly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she threw a deep purple dress across the room, the embroidered fabric smacking you in the face in its flight path to her dresser. You grimaced, shaking your head and brushing your hair from your face as you sighed lightly. “It’s not hopeless, I promise…” you tried to soothe as Mary continued to ball her eyes out “what about that light blue one you tried in earlier? That was very beautiful?”

“No! I cannot wear that! I hear Eloise Bridgerton is wearing a similar colour, and I will not be compared to her…” Mary squealed in protest, throwing another expensive dress across the room, a flash of yellow and gold “I am far better, and prettier!”.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, your patience wearing thin as you picked up the numerous clumps of fabric scattered around the room. There was really nothing you could do except try to comfort her during her meltdown, whilst trying to keep your own head. As you began to lay the dresses out on Mary’s bed once more one by one, there was a faint knock at her bedroom door.

You lifted your head, spying Elizabeth standing in the doorway shyly as she fiddled with her hands in front of her. “If you aren’t too busy, I require some help in choosing a dress as well” She spoke softly, before disappearing back down the hallway just as quickly as she appeared. Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you hummed a short reply, turning your gaze back to Mary who once again descended into hysterics.

“Go! Leave me alone, I shall die of embarrassment now that I have nothing but these rags to choose from!” She exclaimed, dramatically collapsing onto her side and covering herself with her bed covers, beginning to sob loudly as she buried her head into her pillow. You glowered down at her, a small sense of jealousy and envy forming in your chest. Had your situation been different, you would have loved to have such a selection of beautiful clothes. Your father always bought you some of the nicest things on his travels abroad, whether they be small trinkets or delicately made clothes.

A sense of sadness and guilt replaced that feeling of jealousy and envy. You missed your father terribly, but you felt guilty for feeling this way. You weren’t entirely sure why, but as you left Mary’s room and made your way to Elizabeth’s, you decided that you could reminisce about your family later.

Upon entering Elizabeth’s bedroom, you almost gasped audibly in relief. Her room was completely tidy, unlike the previous monstrosity you had just left. There were three dresses splayed out on her bed. The one on the left was a pale light green, adorned completely in a delicate floral lace pattern that descended all the way to the floor with matching white satin gloves. The one in the middle was a deep royal blue satin, completely unadorned except for a white bejewelled belt underneath the bust. And the one on the right was a beautiful light pink, adorned in a delicate white floral lace which fanned out slightly below the end of the dress. Parts of the lace were adorned in small white pearls, which no doubt would have made the dress incredibly valuable…and eye-wateringly expensive.

Elizabeth looked up at you shyly, brushing her auburn hair from her shoulder as she sighed heavily. “I…I need your help deciding what one I should wear…” She spoke softly, her eyes falling back to the bed as she stuttered “I don’t want to look too desperate…but I also want to look pretty enough to attract his attention away from the others…”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly as you closed the door behind you, leaning against the white panel with a confused expression. “Who are you trying to impress?” You asked kindly, tilting your head to the side as you waited for her response. Elizabeth’s gaze met yours, and a bright blush formed on her cheeks as she shifted her position on her bed. “I…it’s Lord Burton. We met late last season, before it’s end actually. He was incredibly sweet, he took interest in my writings, and we have a shared passion for theatre…but his attention was drawn to one of the Lady Featherington’s daughters…”

You could see the sadness forming on her face as she began to idly pick at her bedsheets, sighing nervously as she breathed deeply. “After embarrassing myself before Lord Bridgerton, I realised that I am truly an ignorant person…and I don’t wish to be that anymore. So I ask you, will you help me choose a dress for Lady Danbury’s ball tonight? It would…mean a lot to me if you did.”

Your head straightened and your eyes widened, a strange feeling of acceptance forming in your chest. Neither of your stepsisters had ever acted this kindly towards you before, least of all actually apologised for their behaviour. Yet here Elizabeth was, a guilty look on her face as she waited for your answer.

“If you don’t I completely understand, I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming step-sister to you-“

“The pink one” you blurted out, pushing off the door and making your way over to her side. Your reply surprised you. You should feel annoyed, furious even. After everything she and Mary had done to you, should you really have been so quick to help her? You picked up the dress and held it up before you, examining every intricate detail of the lace and the fabric. Your gaze turned back to Elizabeth, her sadness now replaced with happiness…and gratitude.

“It’s really beautiful. If Lord Burton doesn’t notice you in this…then he is a fool” You spoke kindly, extending the dress towards her as a gesture of forgiveness. Elizabeth’s eyes softened as she gently took the dress from you, smiling kindly as she spoke “I know I haven’t been the best sister, nor really a good person towards you…but thank you. Though I do have to ask, why are you always so kind? Especially to my sister and my mother?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Have courage, and be kind. It was something that my mother taught me before she passed. It means that you must always have courage to do the things you want, and to be kind to everyone you meet, no matter their treatment of you…kindness goes a long way.”

With those parting words, you left Elizabeth’s room and returned to the attic for a moment of peace. You would be back downstairs in an hour or so to Lady Worthington and her daughters get dressed, but you allowed a small smile to cross your face at Elizabeth’s kindness.

“You have been awfully distracted since you returned home, dear brother. Tell me, what is on your mind?” Benedict asked somewhat teasingly, collapsing onto the lounge beside him with a loud huff of effort.

Anthony didn’t reply. He was consumed in thought, his mind mulling over something Eloise had said after the two of them had made their escape from Lady Worthington and her daughters.

“Anthony, you truly are blind. If you look closer at someone, like really look, and see past their dress, then perhaps you will see the truth behind a well-crafted-“

“A ‘well-crafted’ what, Eloise? What are you insinuating about Lady Worthington? Perhaps, she supposedly keeping a huge secret from the ton? One that would cause scandal and outrage should news get out?”

“Well…I didn’t say it…”

She had said those words with such sarcasm and malice, that it had stuck with him for the remainder of the afternoon. Eloise hadn’t looked at him since their return home. It was so unlike her, she wouldn’t speak to anyone except Colin. Surely this entire situation didn’t have anything to do with you…did it?

“Hello? Anthony…are you there?”

“Hm?” The Viscount asked, eyes blown wide as he eventually realised that he was not alone in the parlour room. Benedict laughed, lightly punching his brother’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes.

“What is going on with you? You’ve been very quiet since your return home, and Eloise is in a right mood-“

“If you’re here to bother me, it’s working” Anthony grumbled, shifting his position to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He heard Benedict chuckle loudly, the sound echoing across the room.

“No, I would never do that!” Benedict mused offendedly, leaning closer to his brother and speaking in a more hushed tone. “Buuut…what happened between the two of you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you this mad at each other-“

“It’s really none of your concern…” Anthony snapped, now turning to face his brother with a stern glare “…I’m not really sure if I know if it’s any of my concern”.

“Right, I won’t ask. But I suggest you make amends, otherwise the ball tonight will go very poorly…” Benedict mused informatively before an amused chuckled escaped him “…well, it will go poorly for you. I myself will enjoy your misfortune-“

“You’re such a child” Anthony scowled, becoming more annoyed by his brother’s presence by the second.

Benedict smiled sarcastically, “I know”.

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[jordanstrophe]

CW: Amnesia, hospital whump, whumper/caretaker, hurt/comfort

Whumpee awoke comfortably laying on a white silk bed. They were wrapped in a blanket too perfectly to be their doing.

The lights were dimmed, a humidifier hummed in the corner and a glass of water sat by their bedside. Their arm instinctively reached for it and they choked it down to the last drop.

How long had they been asleep?

Whumpee had no idea where they were, or if they were safe. The cold floor stung their toes as they crept out of bed; the motion setting off a camera that followed them from the corner.

"Hey, hey hey, take it easy." A voice cracked from an inhuman height. Whumpee jumped and curled back on the bed like they were caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Whumpee glanced around, holding the blanket like a barrier.

"You're somewhere safe. Don't get up too quickly, just stay there for a moment." The voice spoke. Whumpee noticed a speaker below the camera. Despite it being nothing but a lens, whumpee felt like they were being stared at.

"I see you drank something, that's good. How do you feel? Lightheaded? Dizzy? Disorientated?"

Whumpee didn't realize it until they said it, but their head felt like it was on the ceiling and their body was elsewhere.

"Con-....confused. I'm confused. Where am I and who are you?" Whumpee repeated firmly.

"Just consider me your "Caretaker". We'll meet properly soon, I promise. I know these conditions aren't the most accommodating... But I made it as comfortable as I was able."

Accommodating was an understatement. This room was lavishing, expensive and medically advanced.

"Alright then, "caretaker". My h-head doesn't feel right and I would like to go." Whumpee furrowed their brows and stared into the camera.

"Go?" The voice asked.

"Go where?"

Whumpee's mind went blank. If short-circiting was a feeling, this was it.

"Whumpee?" The voice asked.

Whumpee didn't hear it at first. The name went in one ear and out the other.

"Whumpee." The voice spoke again.

Whumpee snapped out of it and blinked, swaying a little as if somehow their head got higher.

"You don't respond to your own name, huh? That's interesting..." The voice muttered. It was hard to tell if there was a little sadness there, or annoyance.

Whumpee's gut feeling suddenly started to scream to get out of this room and as far from here as possible. There was an automatic door on the far side as they stood up. As soon as they put their full weight on the soles of their feet, loud ringing blared through their ears. The door was suddenly sideways in their vision and the cold ground was pressing against the side of their face.

The radio screamed that name again; a name whumpee still didn't recognize. Their vision became blurry and their body went numb, but the last thing they saw was the door opening and someone they didn't recognize running into the room-

(Hello there! Just a quick update. This was supposed to be an extension or a later chapter for Hallow Island. My spare time is stretched thin at the moment, but I wanted you to have what was in drafts. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing, it just means I've got to slow down this summer. I'm hoping to bounce back and return to normal soon. Thank you for the overwhelming support ♡)

[aces-and-angels]

IMPORTANT UPDATE FROM SHAHED:

Note : this post is a repost of @appsa update on Shahed's campaign with updated infos on the current amount of raised funds.

I am so grateful to everyone who shared and donated, i really do count it as a miracle that we were able to reach the goal at all, never mind that it happened within the deadline we set. Your support has felt like a blessing in a truly wretched time, especially after all those baseless accusations were made.

Unfortunately, as is the norm with these fundraisers, it seems that shahed has run into some problems with the bank while withdrawing the funds she raised from this campaign. Apart from the unexpected $3.5k cut gfm took from the total amount, it seems the american bank her campaign manager using to send the money will also take a tax of $2k.

This has left her short of $5,500 from getting the full amount she needs to evacuate her whole family.

And it seems because the amount the campaign initially raised is so large, the campaign manager cannot afford to officially increase the target on the gofundme campaign page itself without putting himself at risk of having his bank account and its funds frozen.

As you may know already, there are lots of roadblocks when it comes to transferring funds from western countries to countries of the global south but especially gaza right now. People having their accounts frozen for sending money to gaza and having to go through legal hassles for it is not anything new.

Shahed doesn't want to put the campaign manager, who is their family friend, at risk of legal troubles like that, especially given the hostile political climate towards palestinians in the USA right now.

So i want to make this clear:

Shahed is currently unable to increase the target on the fundraiser on the gofundme itself, but she still needs to raise another 5.5k to cover the tax cuts taken by both gfm and the banks.

The goal on the fundraiser may say $80,000 is the target but the new one we have to aim for is actually $85,500 now

She is currently at $81,525 / $85,500

Believe me when i say that no one is more disheartened by this development than shahed herself. The morning we had reached the goal of $80,000 she told me that she felt she was the happiest girl in the world, and had bought and distributed sweets to the kids at the camp she was at to celebrate despite how expensive it is in Gaza right now.

She had also begun plans to help boost other fundraisers of palestinians, so that no one would have to feel the hopelessness she felt during those months where her fundraiser had been stagnant and had already gotten started on that barely a day or two after she'd completed her campaign.

Shahed was very nervous to tell me about this, especially after this whole racist hate campaign that was led against her so recently. She does not want her and her family to be accused of lying about their torment a second time. Especially when the violence has begun to ramp up once again even after her recent displacement, she can't bear it. Frankly neither can i.

Please know that she would not increase amount again unless times were desperate.

Please do NOT punish her during this difficult time by ignoring this. We have seen time and time again how gfms from gazans have to increase their goals even after they have been reached because of various issues, so this is not unprecedented. I've said it before- the goalposts will always be changing because they are going through a genocide.

So i urge you to please be kind and show her your solidarity and urgency once again, because the deadline is still the same. The raffle still hasnt ended so please check out the link above, and partcipate.

PLEASE HELP HER REACH $85.5K WITHIN THIS WEEK. THIS CAN'T WAIT.

current total: $81,530 USD

[crying-fantasies]

In health and sickness

Masterlist

Many words could describe him at the moment.

Overprotective, over doting conjunx, overwhelming, overbearing and many others that could be an excellent reflection of his actions and reactions, it's the second one that catches him off guard because he isn't sure if it was due to embarrassment or that it felt like a joke at his expense.

There are little options when his system charge way before the programmed hour, not knowing what is going on before his sensors show him in deep red alarms a focus of temperature in the room and the low registration of CO2 in the room, there is a way too short time for decision making as he finds you looking at the ceiling without blinking, chest hardly moving before a horrendous sound erupts, like an engine got stuck somewhere or a spark giving up, almost like a dying cybertronian or an idiot that consumed some corrosive substance.

He has heard both frequently in the battlefield, that's his excuse to call, and appear, at ungodly hours to the nearest clinic going full police car, poor the souls of any mech on his way while you were hardly battling off the mucus on your throat and the pain of your insides twisting, churning, trying to get whatever kept oxygen out of your lungs.

Nothing too hard, just the main problem being what humans call a virus, Prowl has to download once again the basics of your species and the recently updated papers about the whole deal, how did it came to Iacon when he was so sure the outbreak was limited to Stanix? How is it possible that there is no cure for this humorless pest, almost strangling the medic with his bare servos when the indications of "just let them rest well, a lot of fluids and a healthy diet" were all he could give you apart from medicine to only temporarily placate any symptoms.

Prowl knew that humans had a terrible automatic cleansing and protective program, but it still was ridiculous how it only took a little microscopic individual to have you in the verge of dehydration and suffocation, assaulting as an opportunist in your weakest state of mind to have him saying the same as always: you don't have to work, he'll take care of everything, you don't have to stress yourself because here you're safe, but his words aren't that believable as this is the result of the heat generators in the city falling once again because he can't still keep the energy flow uninterrupted, your little body caught in a decreasing temperature in mere minutes before someone else gave you a heated metal blanket to stop a freezing coma or something worse.

There is nothing left to do, only make it bearable for you, as long as it can last because even the most advanced remedies are lacking and he can't have something better in at least a few more years when he needs them by yesterday when it all began.

"It's okay", you try to calm him, knowing well how under his stoic faceplate he is freaking out, you just have to see how far Prowl is going, this is his second day working from home, his scowl is present as always but the way his door wings move at any sound from the street show just right how in the edge he is.

Somehow, your words seem to make it worse, his angry expression almost scares you, "don't talk back now", is his only response, putting a little cube with warm lemonade next to your side of the berth, internally, you cringe, thinking of the warm but also stinging fluid going down your sore throat, thinking how expensive a single lemon is in Cybertron.

But, above all else, seeing him so on edge puts you in the same circumstances, trying to talk him down from submitting a complain to Stanix's medical officers regarding the virus now in Iacon, he is so engrossed in it, not even putting his datapad down when there is an obvious notification of intruders on your door, Prowl only gives it attention when Bonecrusher ends up decimating the door of the living quarters by brutal force, falling with it and still punching the poor thing, growling and roaring like a wild animal, soon after the rest of the constructicons follow, but they look in a way you've never seen before from them.

Wild gazes, bared dentae, vents puffing out hot air, their armor moves and stands threateningly, they look murderous enough for Prowl to hold you in his servos, almost preparing himself to be attacked before Long Haul claims, "Where is it?! Where is the slag fragger, son of a glitch-?!"

Turns out, Prowl's anger and worry could be felt by them.

Turns out, also, that they don't have his filter of supposed control.

"What? What is this?"

Turns out, easily freaked decepticons, who have very little real interaction with humans, shouldn't enter the medical area of a corny website probably made by a doctor wannabe.

And it shows, in how Hook push them all out of his way when you cough once again, too hard this time, the paper on your hand now with a tingle of blood in between, before any word of assurance can be said from your part Prowl is the first to hold you near, Hook is fast to ask what is going in and someone is already crying out loud for a medic.

So much for a peaceful Saturday morning.

"This will do, this has to do the work", Mixmaster usual anxious movements seem to reach another point, normally steady servos seem to shake ominously when mixing something that smells like bleach, "concentrated citric acid, this'll kill it, show that thing not to mess with us", a drop of the thing reaches the table, an acid like reaction eating away the metal, Long Haul and Scavenger look with dread as the thing keeps eating part of the floor, smoke frizzing out of it, visors wide with obvious panic, the bigger 'con putting a protective servo over you, using his own frame and stopping his partner to get near in his hysteria while the smallest started to cry yet again while clutching your hand between massive digits, said cries only decreasing when you started to promise you were going to be okay, hard to believe when another coughing session appeared again, "it'll work, I swear, only a few sips of it and those parasites will be gone forever!"

Hook shouted too, "it's vitamin C! Vitamin C!", he holds down Mixmaster, who at the end just let's go of the cube with a strangled growl.

Prowl would never admit it but he could act normal if Long Haul was watching over you.

"We should punch them in the faceplates", Bonecrusher keeps going, going from one side of the place to the other, barely kept anger on him.

You try, you really do, to push yourself out of the different blankets above of you, but they have made the sentence of "keep warm to improve the process" a lot more unnecessary, as you're sure at least one of those is your weighted blanket, "I'll be fine" you promise once again, mucus on the nose, throat incredibly raw, pretty sure they can read the increasing fever in their sensors, Scavenger is the one closest to you, and is also the one hearing every word of yours and give it real credit, "this takes a week as much, just let it-"

Another fit of coughing erupted, and this time followed by sneezing, more blood coming and showing like an alarm on the white tissue, and someone shouting "MEDIC!" as if you have just been injured on the battlefield.

You're ready to die from mortification, preparing your lengthy apology to whoever has the disgrace to treat you as Prowl drives back to the hospital with 5 constructicons after him.

.

For my Prowl lovers fellows (sorry for the constructiprowl content but boy I love all of them together) @dundeey, @lovenotcomputed and @ikkosu.

[holybibly]

Object of Desire | OT8 |

Pairing: otx8 x reader

Genre: sugar daddy au, dark romance, smut, vampire au,

Word Count: 9.2 k

Summary: Caught in a web of deceit and forbidden pleasures, Nabi quickly learns that some obsessions can be deadly and love can bite.

WARNING: only!18+ Blood drinking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, voice kink, daddy kink, master/pet game, pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, seduction, BDSM, polyamory, mirror sex, marking, voyeurism, power play, and more.

Disclaimer: I do not support themes of violence, obsession, possessiveness, or emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: I honestly didn't expect so much interest in this story and I'm so happy to see these cute 'hearts' popping up in my notifications all the time. I'm an emotional mess. And so, even though I know I should be concentrating on "The Divine Rosa", there are too many other ideas in my head that I can't (won't) ignore, so here we go. "Object of Desire" will be different in style, so I hope you'll love it as much as my main work "The Divine Rosa". A promised bonus for everyone who voted for Seonghwa in the poll will be released this weekend. I'll try to release Woosan next week, the preview will be out this weekend. Comments are welcome, I really appreciate your reactions. If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or future updates, let me know in the comments. Divider @saradika

Part 1. Do you want to make a deal with the Devil?

Now going out of town in the middle of the night with Yeonjun seemed like a bad idea.

A very bad one, I thought.

God, what was I thinking when I agreed to do this? Yesterday, this whole venture seemed like a great way to solve my problems, but now the prospect was not so rosy.

Sometimes I feel like a complete idiot, and this is one of those times.

Outside the window the dark landscape was sweeping by at high speed; the bare trees were shrouded in an ominous gloom, and only the dim light of the tall street lamps over the road was the only source of illumination to guide us in the darkness.

It seemed that the darkness around us did not stop Yeonjun from driving. His posture was relaxed and his hand was sure as he turned the wheel in the right direction, the diamond bracelet on his thin wrist sparkling with starlight. One of the many family jewels that Yeonjun treated with special affection.

In contrast to him, I couldn't relax and kept fidgeting on the leather seat made of black Iberian leather, no less.

Every part of my body was begging me to stop and come home before it was too late.  Not so, I had imagined that we were going to an elite club. I knew that we would be there late at night, but the fact that the club was way out of town came as an unpleasant surprise.

At the moment it's an hour's drive from Seoul and more than an hour and a half to the destination on the GPS.

The whole thing was strange and made me dizzy, or was it the thick smell of Yeonjun's perfume? It was a dense, smoky scent with a hint of vanilla. Powerful enough to draw the eyes of everyone around to its source, and sexy enough to make you want to kiss the naked skin of the wearer of this tantalising scent.

It would be several days before I was able to wash off the remnants of his perfume after our meeting, so much of it had eaten its way into my skin.

I glanced at Yeonjun; a stray yellowish-white light from the lantern momentarily illuminated his face, and a shadow of long velvet eyelashes fell on his pale cheeks. His black raven hair was streaked with flashes of platinum and gold. He looked otherworldly - I would even say demonic.

I felt a palpable shiver run through my body, as if someone had just dipped my heart into a bucket of icy water.

"Jun." My voice was terribly uncertain. "I don't think I can do this." I said as my fingers pulled down the hem of a short dress. The expensive material looked luxurious in a perfect shade of white and was decorated with a sprinkling of crystals. Yeonjun insisted that I wear it tonight and said that I would be grateful for it as soon as we got to the club. I don't think I'd ever choose something like that for myself, and not just because of its crazy cost; Jun's fashion preferences were so different from mine. He was a fan of overt sexuality and bold lines; I, on the other hand, preferred neutrals and comfort. "I have changed my mind; this proposal does not suit me at all. Maybe we can go back..."

Yeonjun smiled softly as he turned to me, but in the darkness of the drawing room the smile was more ominous than reassuring, his lips the most breathtaking shade of red I had ever seen.

Warning bells began to ring in my head. There are times when you can sense danger even before you are faced with it.

"Nabi, my dear, there is nothing for you to be worried about. We have already discussed this. Remember?" His hand was cold as he laid it on my knee. "I will take care of everything. You're my guest tonight, which means you're under my protection." The long fingers shrank a little, a kind of confirmation of his words. His fingernails were painted glossy black, and his fingers were adorned with several silver rings.

I would like to believe that nothing is going to happen to me, but my insides are tied up in a tight knot of fear.

Miss Kim Seoyun's words echoed in my head like thunder: "Humble yourself and surrender to destiny; you are where you are supposed to be.

When did I start believing all this? This is no time to panic, Nabi.

Everything will be fine.

To be honest, Yeonjun was never my first choice when I needed help, and I always tried to keep a certain distance from him for a number of reasons. There was something so predatory about him, almost animalistic, that lit up the red lights of danger, but I was desperate; student loans, rent, insurance and food were starting to pile up. I was in desperate need of money, and preferably a lot of it, fast.

The threat of being left out on the streets and being thrown out of university has never been as real as it is now.

The only thing that gave me the slightest bit of confidence was Jimin's assurance that I could trust Yeonjun completely and how carefree he was.

Damn, Jun looked like we were going on a spontaneous romantic trip instead of a closed elite club outside the city in the middle of the night.

I asked myself again, "Why did I agree to this?" Oh yes, money. A lot of money.

A few days ago, Yeonjun contacted me and offered to help me with my money problem. Of course, Park Jimin couldn't keep his big mouth shut and told him about my problems. He told me that one of his friends at the private club had a good deal for me. I could make a lot of money out of it.

The income was enough to pay off all my debts and the number of zeros on offer was enough to turn my head.

It was an unequivocal and desperate "YES" and at that moment I did not think at all about the consequences or the characteristics of this proposal.

Jun also promised me a lot of fun but after I signed the NDA and read the multi-page contract with its veiled meaning and rather vague wording of some specific points, doubts blossomed in my chest, and I began to understand what kind of fun was being discussed.

Looks like I made a deal with the Devil.

The dress was delivered on the eve of our trip, a few hours before Yeonjun's chic Ferrari pulled up outside my dorm room. The all-white gown, richly embroidered with blue topaz and opal, was incredible. The plunging neckline of the corsage barely covered the lace bralet of the same colour as the dress.

I have never seen my breasts look so full and so soft. I would even call it seductive. Everything I moved had to be clean and graceful; if I moved too sharply, the soft pink halos of my nipples would start to show. This was beyond the limits of my modesty. At one point, I could even feel Yeonjun's searing gaze resting on my cleavage. It was a carnal look with a shadow of hidden lust in the depths of the dark, shining pupils. It was the first time in the several years of our dubiously friendly communication that he had shown such a desire for me.

The dress and underwear came with four-inch heels. Of course, if my life had been in danger and I had tried to escape, there would have been no chance of success. Incidentally, I'm a terrible runner; I bet I couldn't have run more than ten meters before I collapsed with breathlessness. I should have gone to the gym when Jimin offered it to me.

Oh my God, Nabi, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Jun's silky voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You have such a tense look on your face, my darling." He purred. "We'll be there soon, Nabi. Try to relax; you're going to love "Crescent", I'm sure."

Why did it have such a sinister ring to it? "Crescent" - the name was sweet enough, I would say poetic, but the way Yeonjun rolled the word over his tongue as if he could feel its taste - thick and viscous - made the name something forbidden and sinful. Well, the idea of the cult was not so absurd to me. And that stupid prophecy never left my mind.

"You're where you should be..."

In the reflection of the small mirror in the car, I met my gaze. My pupils were dilated like those of a hunted prey. And though I tried to calm down, I could feel the cold, predatory touch of Yeonjun's hand all too well. Baby, it looks like you're going to get caught.

I ask myself again. Why did I find myself in this situation?

Dressed in the most luxurious designer clothes, like a real doll. Ready to become an exclusive blood donor for a very wealthy private community whose clients needed this kind of service, accompanied by one of Seoul's wealthiest heirs.

Now I can say: "Hey, Nabi, you really screwed up."

❤︎❤︎❤︎

A few days before the visit to "Crescent"

I looked again at the envelope lying on my bed. It had been delivered early in the morning, when the whole city was in a half-awake haze and the streets were not yet filled with coffee and fresh pastries from charming little cafes. The envelope was just left on the door, as if it were something unwanted, without bothering to deliver it to the to the addressee.

Why do we even pay for a delivery service?

He's been there for a couple of hours with the overdue bills and some flyers. I found him on my way to get a life-saving coffee, which had to be postponed due to the unexpected arrival of this mysterious object.

And that didn't make me feel any happier at all.

The thick, dark purple paper looked regal and too expensive to be mediocre; usually such envelopes contained bad news or invitations to a private bohemian reception, but it was too fancy for the former and impossible for the latter. Poor students can't get into high society unless they spread their legs in front of someone's wrinkled dick. And I wasn't inclined to do that.

I took the envelope back to my room and put it on the bed. It looked impossibly ridiculous—I would even say vulgar—surrounded by fluffy pink pillows and a variety of stuffed animals—a small army, as Jimin liked to put it. The envelope was a perfect match for its sender—luxurious, vulgar, and obscenely expensive—the very embodiment of Yeonjun's tastes. Judging by the ten missed phone calls and a whole bunch of messages, Jun wanted to make sure that the envelope had been delivered. He even linked it to Jimin, which almost offended me.

I still remember how, on a stupid whim, I had to dye his hair pink in the middle of the night while his sweet, high-pitched voice babbled something like, "Make me look like the Sugar Plum Fairy." After that, you swore to be absolutely loyal to me, Jimin.

All men do is lie.

I didn't have the strength to play in peepers with purple paper. It was giving me a headache. I also had to give an answer to one of the culprits in this situation; otherwise, the scale of the drama would reach the dimensions of the universe.

Come on, Nabi. It's just an envelope. It won't bite you.

After I had settled down comfortably on the bed, I decided to begin to reply to Yeonjun's message.

"I've received the envelope with the documents you told me about, Jun. I'm so grateful for your help." Okay, that was nice, maybe. Or at least I wanted it to be that way. I'm definitely not going to text him to say that I've been deliberately ignoring his texts and calls. Anyway, we had a pretty interesting relationship with Yeonjun. They were never very sweet. The second one was for Jimin, and as my fingers were hovering over the letters with the first apologies, the phone started to vibrate.

Our photo with Jimin flashed on the screen. We were on a trip to Pusan, his hometown. The golden beach in the purple sunset, smiling Chim and Taehyung—his gorgeous boyfriend-and me with a grimace, burnt shoulders and one shoe in hand, the other lost in an unequal battle with tidal waves. When you look at this photo, you can immediately say that it is summer, my least favourite season. I don't even know why it was necessary for them to drag me along on this trip. Most of the time I was on my own. While Chimin tried to lick Te's tonsils or fought off the frat boys who thought buying a sugary-sweet cocktail would magically open my legs. So that was how two weeks of my "fun" summer holiday went by.

And here we are again, back to the lie. Let's go; it'll be fun, they said.

How this photo ended up on Jimin's contact screen is still a mystery to me. But that's not the point now. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone:

"Hi baby."

"Oh! Did you really answer my call instead of ignoring it as usual? How can you treat me like this? I am your soul mate. The only light in your dark world; you don't love me at all?" There was the sound of a fake sob on the other side of the phone. "I've never been ignoring you, Chim." I didn't get to finish because I was interrupted.

"I've called you a lot—eighteen times to be exact. And you, my dear butterfly, haven't answered a single call. You're making me nervous, Nabi, and that's making Taehyung nervous."

"If you'd let me finish, then you'd know how much I love you and how impossible it is to ignore you." He couldn't see my smile. But I'm sure he could feel it in my words. "You are the only light in my boring life; will you forgive me? And please apologise to Tae. I know my sunlight can be quite unbearable sometimes. So why did you call me?"

"First of all, I wanted to know if you'd received an envelope from Yeonjun; you don't answer when he calls, so he called me. More importantly, have you opened it, Nabi?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested as he spoke.

"Yes, Chim, I got the envelope." I ran my fingers over the dark purple paper in a thoughtful manner. "And no, I didn't open it yet. I'm not sure I even wanna. Is this a good idea, Jimin? All of it?"

"You're being too dramatic, in my opinion. Jun wants to help you. All you have to do, my beautiful butterfly, is relax and accept his help. Sometimes sweet little girls like you just need someone who can solve all of their problems for them." Jimin told me in a patronizing way. In a way, I had to agree with him, but hey! I'm not a damsel in distress or a sugar baby; even though I was in trouble, it wasn't as bad as it looked. Jimin's a bit of an exaggerator. "It's not that hard. You go to the club with Yeonjun, have fun, and in the morning you have a few thousand dollars in your account. How does that sound for you?" Park Jimin had a very annoying way of being right all the time. It really wasn't that hard to accept Yeonjun's offer, earn enough to pay off your debts, and take a little time out of the eternal race for money. In the end, I have to think about myself sometimes.

"Okay, I'll listen to you and try to relax. One last question, though: Are you trusting Yeonjun?" And this question made me feel much more uncomfortable than the secret clubs, the elite society, and the complete financial crisis.

"Absolutely." Now his voice sounded confident and serious. "Nabi, Yeonjun and I have been friends for years. I'm sure you'll be safe around him. Jun wants the best for you, and so do I, and if you'll let us, we'll give it to you. You do know that you can ask me for anything, right?" The warmth and care that I could hear in every single word that he said to me warmed my heart. "I am not going to ask you for money."

"You're a stubborn, willful, and terribly categorical bitch, and now I can understand why you haven't had sex for so long. Can't you just let me and Tae look after you? Say the word, and you'll have the whole world to yourself. Sometimes I honestly don't understand how I can love you with such intensity. Given your utter inability to take advantage of opportunities. We're the best package deal ever. Do you know that? Where else are you going to find such a good dick and a black card as a bonus?" He asked.

"Jesus, Jimin! You can stop this. We're not fucking, is that clear? And I'm not going to take your money, even if you try to put your credit card in my hand every time. I can handle this on my own. "I shouted in a huff.

"OK, don't be uptight." He was such a bitch sometimes. He really enjoyed irritating me. "But I'm right. Aren't I? It's been a long time since you've been scolded. Go on, say I'm right. Come on, Nabi, tell me everything. Are you playing with yourself, dirty girl, or do you need to be taught a lesson? I want details."

There were times when I couldn't understand why God was punishing me in this way, but I guess it was the reckoning for the sins of my ancestors that could come in the form of the pink-headed Park Jimin.

"I hate you. I wasn't serious.

"I know." Chimin said cheekily. "By the way, to calm your nerves a bit, I'll tell you. I personally know some members of the club you and Yeonjun are going to. They are Taehyung's friends, so have no fear. But the best thing about these clubs are the men. Nabi, there are men there who make me believe in the existence of Greek gods and fallen angels." Jimin said it dreamily. "God, I would show them how flexible I can be if I didn't go out with Tae."

"All right, stop with that. I get it." I wasn't in the mood to listen to the dirty fantasies of my best friend right now. Especially when you consider the fact that he was absolutely right about my sexual life. I'd been single for a long time.

"Okay, nun, I won't corrupt you; otherwise, you'll have a desire for sex."

"Park Jimin!" I squealed.

Jimin just laughed out loud on the other side of the phone.

"I won't do it again. I promise." Actually, I didn't call you in the first place because of Yeonjun or your arrangement, but I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go somewhere with me.

"Where exactly do you have it in mind?"

"Do you have any idea about Paradigm?" "That fancy spiritualist boutique on Instagram everyone's talking about? I've had a bit of a hearing about it." Why would Jimin want to go to Paradigm? It was a place that was just as private and secret as the one that I had to go to with Yeonjun. "I have to pick up some packages for Taehyung; you know he's obsessed with all kinds of mystical stuff, and this damn boutique only gives out packages—no deliveries—can you imagine that? It feels like the Holy Grail, not a silly amulet."

"As defined by your style with Tae, it sounds terribly stilted and expensive. Sure, I'll go. Give me an hour or so; I need some time to pack."

"Fine, I'll pick you up. Wait for me, my love."

"Please, just pick something a little more simple than your Porsche.

"I love my Porsche; what's wrong with my car?"

"It's too much attention. Last time, everyone at the university talked about it for a whole week. There were even questions about whether you were my sugar daddy or not.

"I definitely love it. It is the universe's way of telling you that there is no need for resistance. I am going to take care of you, my little butterfly. And I am definitely going to come and pick you up in a Porsche. See you in one hour, baby."

"Jimin, just not in a Porsche!" I shouted, but it was too late; I only heard beeping.

As always, it was Park Jimin who had the last word.

I was happy to be able to postpone opening the purple envelope for a while because of this unexpected trip. Even though an occult boutique or something like that wasn't the best prospect.

Anyway, it's time to pack.

Jimin has a strict rule. He's never late.

Exactly one hour later, Jimin's Porsche picked me up from the dorm, and to all my indignation, the only response he gave was a mocking giggle.

There was good traffic on the roads. After twenty minutes, we stopped at the glass door with the silver star engraving. The exquisite sign above the door read as follows: Paradigm is a boutique of spiritualism." The phases of the moon, from New Moon to Descending Moon, were written on the board below the sign.

"Let's go, Nabi. Pick up the package, and I'll take you home. I know you still need to get Yeonjun registered." Chim wrapped his hands around my forearm and literally dragged me into the boutique as we entered.

As we walked in, the bells above the door began to ring, but the sound was not familiar to me; it looked more like glass than metal. When I looked up, I understood the reason for the sound. There were crystal bells hanging above the door, with long strings of pearls and little silver crescents. It was a very beautiful sight. While I had my eyes on the bells, Jimin was already in conversation with the girl behind the counter. She was tall, with a cascade of long, golden hair. Her features were large and expressive. The girl looked more like a model than a soothsayer or spiritualist, although in the age of Instagram, maybe that's what modern wizards and witches should look like.

I couldn't hear the whole of the conversation, just bits and pieces of it: "It's a parcel for Kim Taehyung. "Yes, it concerns the Kim family." "Please deliver it as soon as possible."

While they were talking, I thought I'd take a look around the shop.

The common room was not large; the shape of the room was round, probably because of some mystical meaning. The walls were covered with velvet curtains, behind which a number of doors were concealed. On metal shelves were various objects: crystal balls, shards of precious stones, heavy tomes on voodoo and fortune-telling, ancient talismans in forged frames, hare legs—a symbol of good luck—and other magical items. There was something macabre about this place—a thick, dense air in which the scent of frankincense and myrtle was vivid—and the heavy, lingering presence of something otherworldly, like a ghostly footprint—a very evil footprint. In all other respects, it was the same luxurious, new-fangled boutique for the chosen rich or the mystical amateur.

My attention was drawn to a crown. It lay on a velvet cushion on one of the many shelves. There were nine black diamonds at the center of the crown. They were surrounded by rubies, so deep in scarlet that they cast a black glow, and pearls to match. The lines of the metal were twisted. They were like snakes wrapped around jewels. The cut of the diamonds was not typical; it was something extremely rare for this kind of gemstone—the Empress.

I was drawn to this crown as if it were a magnet. This feeling of inescapable attraction that you can't resist—I have a feeling like this crown has always belonged to me. Now we are finally reunited. I reached out to touch it, to feel the coolness of the dark, glittering diamonds under my fingers, and I almost did when someone's hand fell on my shoulder.

"You shouldn't touch that, dear."

I gave a frightened jerk, either at the touch of someone else or at the low voice that had come so close to me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just attracted to this crown, and I..." I had no idea how to explain the fact that I'd literally had a call from a piece of metal. Even for a place like this, it might have sounded crazy.

As I turned, I saw a woman in her 40s. Like the girl at the counter, she was more like a modern socialite on Instagram than an occult shop worker.

"All right, darling, the important thing is that you stopped it in time. This thing has a bad reputation; every one of its owners has ended up committing suicide. Anyway, my name is Kim Seoyun, owner of Paradigm. What brings you here today?"

"I'm here with a friend who needs to pick up a package for his boyfriend."

"A young man with pink hair, right? He's in the office with JaYoung; they're in charge of the registration," Seoyun said.

Even the names of the two were breathtakingly beautiful and meaningful. Sometimes the universe invests more in some than others. Seoyun frowned for a moment, as if she had read my thoughts. Then her face cleared, and she smiled softly.

"You're a beautiful girl, Nabi."

"Thank you." I sounded terribly stupid; sometimes I act like a complete fool, but I couldn't think of a more witty response. There was an uncomfortable silence between us. Until it was broken by SeoYun, who asked me a question.

"Do you want me to tell you what your fate is going to be like? My clients are of the opinion that I'm very precise in my predictions."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that." I waved away. "I don't really have a lot of faith in destiny and omens."

"You don't believe in destiny?" She arched her eyebrow in a skeptical manner. "Or don't you want to believe in it?"

"I'm a realist; I can't imagine believing in a destiny and hoping for some mystical higher power to intervene."

"Hmm, this is quite interesting. Come on, let's play," she said, picking up a Taro deck and opening it like a fan. She handed it to me. "You choose five cards; two of them are about love, two of them are about the future, and the last card is about the inevitable destiny, something that's been foretold since your birth."

I won't lie, I was so curious, even though I had no faith in the cards in my hand. My hand reached out for a pack of cards, my fingers hovering over the smooth, flickering surface as if I were trying to feel the ones I needed.

Fatum—the word had a scary ring to it.

AfterI had quickly decided on the four cards, I solemnly drew the last card and handed it over to Miss Kim.

Seoyun took the cards from me with a knowing smile. She began to turn them over one by one and started to explain what each meant.

"You are going to love like it is hard to imagine." She said. Feelings carried threatening limits. Crazy, wild, and burning love—this is a card that comes up very rarely, but it has a very strong meaning. It is the Queen of Cups. For someone who really loves you, you are going to be a true queen, a goddess; everything will be done for you; everything you want will be fulfilled; but if you get too caught up in this feeling, you will be too easily controlled. As strong as this love is, so strong is the destructiveness of it. You should be more careful with it.

The next card was turned over by Seoyun.

"The star is a bright omen for you. You have a choice in front of you that will change everything. Follow the star, and it will show you the path, but remember, no star shines without darkness. This is a map that will lead you to where you need to be. In search of that guiding star, it looks like I'm going to have to look up in the sky some more. Perhaps I should also follow the spiders in order to find the Chamber of Secrets as well.

I treated them with absolute skepticism.

"Death: everything has a cycle, and when death appears, it means you're nearing the end of one. The appearance of death is the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. It may have something to do with the love that awaits you. Your loneliness is about to end."

"The Five Cups is a situation in which you are stuck and can't move forward. This card is about your problems and the need for change in your life. This is the same kind of magical kick that is followed by heavy and dramatic events. The Fives indicate that this is only the second act of the great play; there is still much to come, but the finale promises to be happy if you accept your destiny. Otherwise, it can always end in tragedy. This card tells you: Accept yourself and surrender."

I didn't have a bit of faith in her words. If Jimin or Lia had been in my place, they would have been on a shopping spree for amulets and shamans; their belief in the afterlife was absurdly high.

Before I turned the last card, Seoyun took my hand. She looked me in the eyes seriously and asked:

"Are you sure that you want to know what fate has meant for you, because sometimes it's hard to deal with it?"

"Yes, I do. I'd like to hear it." Isn't that the whole point of a fortune telling?

It's just a deck of cards and some vague words from a pseudo fortune-teller. What could possibly go wrong?

When Miss Kim turned over the last card, her face went pale, and she let the palm of her hand slip out of hers as if it had been burned.

"Go away." sounded like undisguised horror in Seoyun's voice. "Leave immediately. JaYoung, accompany her to the exit, now." She turned away from me, clutching the card in her hand.

I never had a chance to have a look at what was on it.

"What is going on? Why are you kickin' us outta here? What did you see on that card? "In complete disregard for my questions, Miss Kim hurried to the office door, hiding behind the curtains.

Just then, JaYoung and Jimin came out of the other room with a small black box tied with a gold ribbon. It must have been a parcel for Taehyung to take.

"Nabi, are you all right?" Jimin asked me in a worried tone.

No, it wasn't all right; the lady looked at me as if I were one of the bad omens of the biblical coming.

What was it about this card that was able to frighten her to such an extent?

"JaYoung, take her to the exit and close the boutique; we will not be working any more today."

I grabbed the woman's hand before she could turn the doorknob and disappear into the darkness of the room.

"What's the meaning of the last card? Tell me; I'm not going to leave here until you tell me."

"Death is closer to you than you think. It's already on its way to you." Her whole body began to shivered as if it were cold, but the shop was warm. I would say stuffy.

"Who's comin'? What are you talkin' about?" I insisted on it.

Seoyun suddenly turned to me and pushed a crumpled tarot card into my hand. There was There was madness in her dark eyes, and her pupils were so dilated that they were almost the thick green of her iris.

"The Devil."

After that, she practically pushed me to the exit, where I met a worried and confused Jimin. We came out of the boutique, and the door behind us clicked in a characteristic way.

This was not how I had imagined a trip to Paradigm.

"What the hell just happened?"

"You'll believe me when I say I have no idea." Jimin and I looked at each other.

"Next time Taehyung will pick up his stupid packages themselves, I will not go to places like that again. Nabi, I saw someone's canned heart in a jar and bat carcasses. Did you know they have such tiny, sharp teeth? I could swear that I've never seen anything so disgusting in all my life." He said.

"No more occult boutiques, I totally agree with you. Let's go home, I still have to send the paperwork over to Jun."

"I must have something to drink first, and the stronger the better. Let's go to 'Salvatore' and then go home."

I took one last look at the sign, which was now shimmering faintly in the setting sun. I crumpled the card into a small ball and threw it in the rubbish bin next to me.

The Devil, of course. I'm not going to believe the words of this crazy fortune teller. Maybe I should scatter the salt at the entrance, or then he will suddenly knock on my door.

Two hours later, after a big margarita for two and a few glasses of red wine, Jimin took me home, and I was in the same position as before the whole stupid trip to Paradigm.

Sitting on my bed, hypnotised by a dark purple envelope with documents from Yeonjun. There was no point in putting it off any longer.

Instead of pulling a millimeter at a time, I need to learn how to rip off a plaster in one move. Maybe deep down I'm a masochist if I prefer this method, but right now I don't have the time to sort out my hidden sexual desires.

I picked up the envelope; it was surprisingly heavy and pleasantly soft to the touch. The paper had a pleasant odor of powder and velvet, a reminder of the Victorian era in England. Unrequited love letters must have smelled like that.

The envelope was sealed by a wax seal with a monogram cast in an antique shade of gold. When I opened it, the thin wax cracked under my fingers, leaving a glistening particle on them. Inside were a number of documents tied together: a non-disclosure agreement, a handwritten note, and a velour jewellery bag bound with silk ribbons and embroidered with opals and sapphires. I'm sure this little thing was worth twice what I'd been paid in six months, and what lay inside cost much more.

My first choice was a piece of paper. Yeonjun had always written in an incredibly beautiful way - calligraphed, like a fountain pen, with little curls at the end of the letters.

"My lovely Nabi, I look forward to seeing you this Saturday. I am so glad that you have agreed to take me up on my offer. A treasure like you deserves the best in the world, and I'm overjoyed to give it to you. In case you change your mind and decide to back out of your contract with ”Crescent,” I will be the one to pay all of your bills and your tuition fees in the future. We have already discussed this with Jimin. Despite your stubborn refusal to accept any financial help from us, I will do it anyway."

Sometimes I think that all of my friends have a sugar daddy complex; their desperate desire to pay for everything in my life is taken to the extreme. Of course, if you grew up with a "golden spoon" in your mouth, a few thousand dollars, it was absolutely nothing. But for me, it was an exorbitant burden, and yet I wanted to handle it myself.

As dubious as it sounds, I didn't want to say no.

"There's a confidentiality agreement in the envelope, and you need to sign it until tomorrow night. Your session is scheduled for Saturday night. We have to be at ”Crescent” by 23:00, after which Seulgi, the main administrator, will pick up a perfectly compatible client for you to donate blood. Before you meet her, I want to make sure that all the paperwork is in order. There are also two versions of the contract that you should have a look at.”

The ”Crescent” allows donors to choose whether they want to work with them for a year or for one night. Accordingly, there are two types of contracts: annual and one-off.

”I've picked out an outfit for you to wear when we go to ”Crescent”; it'll arrive on Friday with everything you need. You'll look gorgeous, and I'm sure you'll thank me afterwards. Personally, I think you could do with showing a little more of your skin and accentuating the sexy lines of your body. For my taste, you're too modest.”

I squeezed my eyes shut in annoyance. If my buttocks weren't pressed up against the skirt and my breasts weren't protruding, I'd certainly be too modest. The more skin on display, the better. Jun's preference was something I was well aware of. A nice outfit was to be forgotten, and if my underwear was even a little bit covered, I would consider myself lucky. I was sure there would be no thanks on my part.

"The club's owners give all new donors a thank-you gift. It's inside an envelope. Accept it with all sincerity, because you are giving them your life's resources, and this is the least they can do for you. It is also their request that you wear it on your arrival at the “Crescent.”

My dear Nabi, it will be a night you'll never forget. I can assure you of that.

All my love, Yeonjun. "

I was very excited about the prospect of Saturday night. There was a feeling that there was some hidden meaning in the whole situation that I was missing out on. My brain was sending me distress and danger signals, just like Yeonjun. Be careful. The storm is coming.

In any case, sometimes it is better to be at ease and just go with the flow. Like Jimin said, I should be less dramatic.

I signed the NDA contract right away. I'll definitely forget it if I don't do it now. Checking Yeonjun's words against the remaining documents in the envelope, there were two versions of the contract: a one-off and an annual one. I decided to save the gift from the owners of the 'Crescent' for the very end. My first choice was the one-off contract. There were fewer pages, and it was clearer and easier to read.

The first item on the contract was the NDA. There was a long explanation of why it was so important and necessary.

"All "Crescent" clients are people of high social status and position. Their privacy is of the utmost priority to us. Especially with regard to their "special" conditions and specific needs, we want to guarantee our clients complete privacy. Each donor undertakes to sign a confidentiality agreement prior to the first session. Otherwise, the contract between the donor and our client will not be concluded." Guests of the club, hereinafter referred to as "donors," are obliged to keep confidential all the information obtained during personal meetings as well as everything that happens during the blood transfusion, hereinafter referred to as "sessions."

Well, it sounded a bit strange, but I could understand why "Crescent" insisted on signing a contract of this kind. In today's world, it is difficult to keep things secret. And when you are dealing with powerful and wealthy people, it is even more difficult. Paparazzi lurk around every corner, and tabloids are ready to start a scandal with the slightest spark, especially in South Korea.

Who in their right mind would want to survive the criticism, the judgment, and the airing of dirty laundry?

The donor's responsibilities and the client's expectations were the next point in the contract.

In short, you become an exclusive blood donor for one or more clients of the club after signing the contract. This is what Yeonjun told me as well. This form of contract required a single "session."

They didn't give any details, just that the service was linked to a certain type of genetics in their clients and was urgently needed. They did not say how the transfusion process would take place.

"The donor agrees to give their blood and receives financial compensation from the club after a successful procedure. The whole process is strictly controlled by "Crescent" staff. They also act as intermediaries between the donor and the client. Their job is to carry out a compatibility test that will guarantee a better result in the transfusion."

Point three is called "testing for compatibility."

Each donor was tested for compatibility before the "session," and the club administrators—as I learned from Yeonjun's note, my administrator's name is Seulgi—took a blood sample and compared it with the most suitable partner or partners. It was not only the blood that was important, but the members of the club also had a long list of preferences and wishes that the donor had to match. Looks were not the least of these. Height, weight, hair colour, body type, nationality, and age—the list seemed endless. There was even a clause about the type of voice and the food preferences of the donor. Let's just say: "Crescent" customers were very spoiled and had a personal view of the blood donation process. Partner - It sounded a little too intimate to me for this kind of situation, and it clearly had a double meaning.

The most pleasant of all—financial compensation—was point number four.

"For voluntarily donating their life resources, all donors receive financial compensation from "Crescent," ranging from $1,000 to $3,000. The amount paid varies according to the amount of blood donated and the status of the client with whom the donor was matched".

It was a fabulous amount of money. It was a very quick income, but it wasn't that easy. I felt it in my gut. The work was flawless; there was just no such thing.

I've reached the last point in the contract - the completion of the agreement.

Here are the details of the beginning and end of the 'session', how the money was paid, how the donors returned home, and other details. The start of each 'session' was exactly midnight, but the donor had to be at the club two hours before for preparation. The 'session' ended at 8am the next day. In general, the whole process took up to eight hours. The transfusion took place in private rooms, the doors of which were locked from the beginning to the end of the "session." Inside the rooms, there was a "panic button" in case of unforeseen situations.

The transfusion process itself is only revealed on arrival at the "Crescent," as the paragraph indicates: "is not standard." The donors were taken home by the club staff at the end of the "session." If there was a request from the client for the donor to be taken home in person, there was no objection to this.

And that's all. The one-off contract was over. A few thousand dollars have been added to your bank account.

I won't lie, it sounded fabulous. But there was a lot that made me feel confused and want to know.

Some of the clauses in the contract left me scratching my head with their veiled meaning and ambiguous choice of words.

So I moved on to the second version of the contract - the one for the year.With lots of footnotes and sub-paragraphs, it was twice as long.

It had the same beginnings: the NDA agreement, the donation, and the compatibility test, but then everything changed dramatically.

Gone was the faceless "client." In its place came the "patron." Now it sounded as if there was a contract between the patron and the donor. In addition to this new word, there were also new points to be included in the contract.

Medical care, diet, sports with a private trainer, spa treatments, and even specific items such as painting, dancing, and music lessons. From the signing of the annual contract, which included renting accommodation, paying bills and school fees, giving gifts, traveling, and so on, the patrons were fully responsible for the welfare and comfort of their exclusive donor.

They promised to keep the donor happy and satisfied and to see to whatever needed to get done. It was now that the ambiguity of the word 'partner' began to make sense to me. In this contract, it was clearly stated that the business relationship could continue between the sheets.

"The sexual or romantic relationship between the donor and the patron is their personal affair and is welcome if both parties are interested in and attracted to each other. All intimate details, including details of the sexual act, remain strictly confidential between donor and client. A list of the sexual practices as well as the permissible kinks will be discussed in advance. The donor is entitled to determine the acceptable boundaries of sexual contact, its intensity, and the degree of emotional "subspace" involved. A stop word is chosen in advance, or the clients can always use the color system: green - yellow - red.

Donors have the right to appeal to the management of the club if, at any time, their rights have been violated and they have been subjected to emotional, physical, or sexual coercion. The owners of "Crescent" have an obligation to provide the donor with a safe place and appropriate specialists for the assessment of the donor's condition. The contract is suspended. Further details are awaited. The issue can be resolved peacefully. In the worst case, the contract will be terminated immediately, and the donor will be compensated for a period of five years." That was certainly not my expectation. I will have to ask Yeonjun if he has any knowledge of such cases, if they have happened, or if anyone has ever had an early termination of a contract.

In addition, it was stated that such a relationship was not obligatory and that if the donor did not want to have sexual relations with the patron, he could refuse, and the patron would have no insistence.

But I don't think many donors would refuse, considering that even Jimin, who is dating an absolutely perfect and insanely attractive man named Taehyung, talked about the beauty of “Crescent's“ clients. It's a very tempting offer, even though it sounds like a twisted version of sugar daddy with a bloody kink.

There have also been some changes to the point about the financial compensation. It is now a compulsory monthly allowance. Depending on the status of the patron, it could range from $30,000 to $90,000 a year. The more he or she could afford to pay, the higher the amount of the benefit. The money was divided into equal parts. It was paid over the duration of the contract. Always on the first Monday of the month.

I can't imagine that anyone would be willing to pay that kind of money for your blood. Obviously, for the members of the “Crescent“, this was an acute question, as the amount in the contract had several zeros.

One of the most important points in the contract was the exclusivity clause.

This was unacceptable for an annual contract, unlike a one-off contract, which allowed the donor to contract with different clients each time. To put it bluntly: Your blood belonged to the sponsor. In this respect, there were so many requirements and so many details written down that were important to the patron. In addition, the one-year contract was only available to donors who had knowledge of the club's clients or staff. Yeonjun was one of them. So I received two versions of the contract instead of one.

At the end, there was the same information about the terms and conditions of the 'meeting' and a few paragraphs about the expiry of the one-year contract.

Having read the contracts, I felt like we were in a strange combined version of 50 Shades of Gray and True Blood.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back on the pillows, putting the papers to one side, and pressed my cheek against the fluffy, soft toy. It felt good against my skin, the soft purple velour. It was a weird variation on 'Princess of the Bumpy Space' from 'Adventure Time'. Minho had given it to me after another drunken debacle. How he came into possession of this toy is still a complete mystery to all of us.

I had a couple of thoughts about my options. On the one hand, I could make a one-off deal with them and then forget about what had happened the next morning. The amount they offered to compensate me would have been enough to make me feel good for a while, but certainly not enough to pay off all the debts and put some aside just in case.

On the other hand, there was a contract for one year with regular payments and various bonuses, but this also involved a mysterious and demanding patron. One year, and I can say goodbye to all the debts I owe. There was also the chance, without a boring, monotonous job in a bookshop, a tiny room in a student dormitory, or a permanent pit of debt, to see the world, enjoy art, and simply live and be happy.

All this was offered to me on a silver platter. But somehow I thought it was a deal with the devil rather than a blessing from an angel.

In that tempting sentence, there was too much 'but'.

All my thoughts had me on the verge of tears and screams at the same time.

I looked around my little room: dim, mousy grey painted walls; scattered notes and piles of textbooks on the table; picture frames; toys; piles of crumpled blankets on the floor; and a black Balmain velvet jacket that once belonged to Minho, but which he is absolutely certain makes me look better than him. In addition to my things, there were a few of Lia's dresses and Yeonjun's leather jacket, which he left me after one of our many meetings, in my wardrobe, which was tiny by Jimin and Minho's standards. The contrast between their clothes and mine was unbelievable - brand labels, monograms, and distinctive prints - all screaming about their high cost and inaccessibility. I could never have that kind of money, but I had the desire. I really wanted to have it.

This sense of accessibility was something I was curious about.

There was a thick twilight beyond the window. A scattering of purple light poured into the room, turning the whole room a mystical shade of purple. As it danced along the walls, the colour dripped down to the floor, making it look like dark purple water. You could see the first stars begin to appear in the rapidly darkening sky, their broken light sparking off a sapphire embroidered ribbon on a small jewellery bag. I had completely forgotten all about this so-called gift. The cobalt blue sapphires mirrored each other and looked like the eyes of a big cat. That's how I'd always imagined the eyes of a predator - shining in that mystical blue. I took the pouch in my hand and shook it lightly in an attempt to determine what was inside, but the contents did not make a sound.

The silk ribbon came undone with ease. I stared at the contents of the bag with unblinking eyes. Inside was a delicate ornament made of white gold. Thin lines were woven into a star shape. It was inlaid with sapphires and diamonds. It was mesmerizing to look at. Whoever made this necklace obviously put a great deal of love into it. The shape of the ornament itself was not standard; it was more like a guide star in the center of the compass.

I was reminded of what Miss Kim had said to me today as my fingers gently traced the pattern of the necklace.

"Follow the stars, and they will show you the way. A star is a bright omen."

Could it just be a coincidence that the piece of jewelry I was holding in my hand was nothing less than a guiding star?

Either way, I'll definitely be wearing it Saturday—not just because the owners asked me to, but because it is my wish. Perhaps this star will indeed show me the way, but one thing I was sure of was that it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I'd ever seen.

I thought I'd put the jewelry back in my bag and do some paperwork for Yeonjun. I've had enough mystical prophecies and rich patrons for one day, so I've left the contract selection for Saturday. I'm going to spend the evening resting and relaxing. I'll have a long, hot bath with butter and pink salt, which Jiminy brought me from Paris. I will read a book or listen to a meditation course and call upon my inner "I" to harmonise.

Meditation and soul-searching have become very popular with Lia lately. As a result, I have a whole bookshelf in my room that is dedicated to books of this kind and various CDs with meditation and breathing exercises. Last month, she even gave me a decorative fountain, which was supposed to be calming and relaxing but in fact made me feel more nervous and annoyed than soothed. I looked at the jewelry bag containing the necklace again after gathering all the documents.

"The star will show the way..."

And it's only now that I realise that I've never said my name, Miss Kim, and I don't know how she came to know it.

"You're a beautiful girl, Nabi."

For a moment, I thought that maybe her words weren't made up or lying, but rather a warning, but it was only for a second.

I decided not to give it much thought, shaking my head as if to drive the thought away. If it were a sign of my destiny, it'd be my meeting with her on Saturday. I looked out the window again. As if mocking me, the crescent moon shone brightly through the thick midnight clouds. One thing I was absolutely sure of: a visit to 'Сrescent' would change my life forever.

[ari-freeworld]

'*•♡Finding Space In Your Heart ♡•*'

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03 - Two-Wheeled Tension

Pairing - Biker/Roommate!Bakugou x Fem!Reader

An - I'm so glad so many of you guys are enjoying this series!!! Hope you like this one, it took a while. Planning on making a few more parts. Anywayssss enjoy srry it's so long <333

Summary - After Kirishima moves in with his girlfriend, Mina, Bakugou finds himself in need of a new roommate. He’s on the hunt for someone who can tolerate his loud (and expensive) Ducati, his odd hours at the mechanic shop, and who is fairly tidy and able to pay their share of the rent. After having no luck finding the right person, his long-time friends Mina and Kirishima suggest an old friend of Mina's—enter you, a young professional writer looking for a place to live during your partnership with a publishing company.

Notes/warnings - Qurikless AU, aged up characters, Slow burn (eventual smut), cursing (it's bkg duh), drinking mentioned, fem/male masturbating, nsfw

wrds - 2.4k

01 , 02

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The morning of your first day at the publishing company dawned bright and early. Standing in front of the mirror, you meticulously checked your outfit, making sure every detail was perfect. Your nerves buzzed, making it difficult to keep your hands steady as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. Today was the day you had been waiting for—the start of your dream job—but the anxiety gnawed at you, threatening to unravel your composure.

As you adjusted your blouse for the umpteenth time, there was a knock at your bedroom door. Bakugou’s gruff voice filtered through. “You ready yet, princess?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to find him leaning casually against the frame, his eyes raking over your outfit. His usual intense gaze softened slightly, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You look good,” he said simply, but the sincerity in his voice eased some of your tension.

“Thanks,” you replied, managing a smile. “Just... a bit nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re gonna fucking crush it. Don’t stress it.”

His words were reassuring, and you felt a rush of gratitude. “Thanks, Bakugou. I mean it.”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but you could see the concern in his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll take you.”

The ride to the publishing company on Bakugou’s Ducati was exhilarating as always. The wind whipped past you, and you held onto him tightly, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours. It was a short ride, but it was enough to clear your mind and fill you with a renewed sense of determination.

When he finally pulled up in front of the building, he cut the engine and turned to face you. “Knock ‘em dead, princess.”

You smiled, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. “I will. Thanks for the ride.”

With one last reassuring look, you headed inside, feeling a surge of confidence. The meeting with the publishing team exceeded your expectations. The room was filled with enthusiastic faces, all eager to hear about your ideas. As you laid out your vision for the book, their nods and smiles fueled your confidence. They were genuinely impressed with your work, offering constructive feedback and expressing excitement about the project's potential. It felt like a collaborative environment, one where your creative input was valued and encouraged.

Throughout the day, as you and your new team mapped out the initial plans and timelines for your book, you found yourself frequently checking your phone, eager to update Bakugou. Each break in the meeting gave you a chance to share a quick text with him. "Meeting's going well—they like it :)" you typed after the first hour, your words measured but conveying your underlying excitement.

Bakugou’s response came swiftly, a mixture of pride and his typical brusqueness: "Knew they would." His text was brief but supportive.

By the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted but filled with a profound sense of accomplishment. The team had outlined a robust plan for your book, and their enthusiasm matched your own. They welcomed your ideas and provided insightful suggestions that enhanced the project's scope and depth.

Returning home, you found the apartment empty. Bakugou was still at his shop, as expected. As you put your things away, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

“Gonna be late tonight. Don’t wait up. Eat dinner without me.”

The bluntness of his message was typical, but there was an undertone that felt almost sorrowful. After spending nearly every day together for the last couple of weeks, the apartment felt strangely empty without him. Each room seemed quieter, the absence of his presence a stark contrast to the energy he brought. The silence was deafening, a void that amplified the loneliness you hadn’t felt in a long time. Even after seeing him earlier that day, his absence weighed heavily on you.

You wandered through the apartment, each step echoing in the emptiness. The living room, which had become a shared space of laughter and companionship, felt hollow. The absence of his teasing comments and reassuring presence was like a physical ache. You couldn't help but worry that you were depending on him too much, that your growing attachment would overwhelm him.

Feeling the weight of the empty apartment pressing down on you, you decided to invite Mina over for some company. Her lively presence would be a welcome distraction from the pervasive sense of isolation.

Mina arrived with her usual energy, carrying a bottle of wine and a bag of groceries. “Let’s cook and get drunk,” she declared with a grin.

The two of you set to work in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces. The wine flowed freely, and soon the apartment was filled with the aroma of delicious food and the sound of laughter. As you chatted about your new job, the conversation inevitably turned to Bakugou.

You chatted about your new job, but inevitably, the conversation turned to Bakugou.

“So, how’s it been living with the hothead?” Mina asked with a mischievous grin, perched on top of the counter.

You laughed, a bit self-consciously. “It’s been... interesting. He’s been really helpful, and we’ve gotten closer. It’s weird not having him around.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Closer, huh?” Her tone was dripping with suggestion.

You blushed, trying to brush off her teasing. “It’s not like that. I mean, he’s... He’s Bakugou, you know? One minute he’s flirting just to tease me, the next he’s looking at me with those intense eyes, like he can see right through me.”

Mina chuckled, pouring you another glass of wine. “Well, maybe you should just fuck him and find out.”

Your head snapped up. “What?! Are you crazy? We’re roommates.”

“Exactly,” Mina said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “That way, you’ll know if there’s something real there or if it’s just sexual tension.”

You shook your head, trying to process her words. “But what if it messes everything up? I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Mina shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “Life’s too short to wonder ‘what if.’ Sometimes you have to take the risk. Plus, I heard Bakugou’s last relationship didn’t end too well. Maybe he needs someone like you.”

For some reason, hearing that Bakugou was with another girl made your heart sting and your stomach turn. The thought of him being with someone else was like a knife twisting in your chest, sharp and relentless. You imagined him holding her, his rough hands caressing her skin, his lips whispering sweet nothings into her ear. The idea of him laughing with her, sharing those private moments you had come to cherish, was unbearable. It was as if every laugh, every fleeting touch you had shared with him was now tainted by the ghost of another woman. You hadn’t thought about it before, and now you wondered if he was interested in anyone now. Each imagined scene felt like a betrayal, making the loneliness you felt all the more suffocating.

“It would be weird…” you responded, but internally, you were asking yourself if it really would be.

After dinner, Mina left, and the apartment felt empty once again. You wrapped up the leftovers and placed them in the fridge, leaving a note for Bakugou: Don’t work too hard. 

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bakugou was constantly busy, leaving early and coming home late. Each morning, you found a note from him on the coffee pot, usually something simple like Don’t forget your lunch. The notes were a small comfort, but you couldn’t ignore the growing sense of loneliness. You missed his presence, his voice, and even his gruff demeanor. You realized how much you had come to enjoy Bakugou being around. He made you feel taken care of in a way you hadn’t felt before. 

You especially enjoyed the moments when he came home from the shop, his cologne mixed with the faint scent of rubber clinging to him. There was something comforting about that smell, something that made you feel safe. And in the mornings, after his early workout, he would come in panting and sweating, looking out of breath but exhilarated. His intense eyes would soften when they met yours, and you felt a strange mix of admiration and longing.

One night, the loneliness became too much. The apartment was dark and quiet, and you found yourself thinking about Bakugou more than you wanted to admit. You missed his touch, his warmth. The need for him became overwhelming, and you found yourself craving his presence in a way that was both thrilling and frustrating. You worried if he felt the same way about you. Did he miss you when he was away? Did he think about you as much as you thought about him?

Without thinking, you retreated to your room, the need for release consuming you. You lay back on your bed, your mind filled with images of Bakugou. You thought about his strong, muscular body, the way his crimson-colored eyes seemed to pierce right through you. You could almost smell his familiar scent, a mix of cedarwood and something uniquely him. Your hand drifted down your body, fingers slipping beneath your underwear. You gasped softly, the sensation heightened by the thought of him.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou had come home early that night. He had planned to surprise you, but as he stepped into the apartment, he heard the soft sounds coming from your room. Curiosity piqued, he moved silently towards your door, which was slightly ajar.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch. You were sprawled on the bed, your hand between your legs, your eyes closed in pleasure. His name slipped from your lips in a breathless whisper, and he felt a surge of desire so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet.

He knew he should turn away, give you your privacy, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He watched, mesmerized, as you brought yourself closer to the edge, your body writhing with need.

In an instant, his pants grew tighter, and his breathing heavy. He looked down, his dick practically trying to free itself. He quietly unzipped his pants, his cock springing out and hitting his stomach with a thud.

He should feel ashamed, like a pervert. All thoughts were out of the window and he could focus on were your pants and the wet noises coming from under your shorts. He wondered what you smelled like, tasted like. God, he wanted to know what you felt like. How you would cling to him, while pounding you into the mattress. He would leave no place unmarked, biting you, sucking on your beautiful skin till it turned purple.

Your movements grew more frantic, and you arched your back, moaning his name louder. The sound sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn't take it anymore. His hand moved to stroke himself, trying to match the rhythm of your movements. He bit his lip, stifling a groan, the pleasure mingling with the forbidden thrill of watching you.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, your eyes fluttered open. You were lost in your own world, oblivious to Bakugou's presence. You gasped, your body convulsing as you called out his name, the waves of your orgasm washing over you.

Bakugou's own release followed almost immediately, his breath hitching as he spilled into his hand. He quickly moved back, retreating to his room before you could notice him.

Slipping into his own bed after cleaning his mess, he stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. The raw desire he felt for you was undeniable, overwhelming. He wanted you under him, wanted to feel your body against his, to hear you moan his name in pleasure as he drove you to the edge and beyond.

But with that desire came a torrent of conflicting emotions. You were his roommate, his friend. He valued your companionship, cherished the bond you had built. He didn't want to risk ruining it by acting on his impulses. Yet, the depth of his longing made it hard to think clearly.

His thoughts swirled, vivid images of you beneath him, your skin flushed, your eyes half-lidded with desire. The thought of your bodies entwined, his name on your lips, consumed him. He ached to make it a reality, to cross the line from fantasy to truth.

He knew you wanted him too, with the way you moaned his name, the way your body responded to your own touch while thinking of him. But was that all you wanted? Just a good fuck? The uncertainty gnawed at him. Did you see him as just a means to satisfy your desires, or was there something more?

There was something deeper, something more than just physical desire in his heart. He realized how much he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your passions. These small things had invaded his mind and life in such a short amount of time, but he couldn’t quite grasp what they meant. He knew he wanted you physically, but he struggled with understanding what he wanted outside of that.

What if you did fuck? Would that be all there was to it? Just sex? The thought made his heart ache in a way he didn’t fully understand. He worried about what would happen to your relationship if he gave in to his desires. Would it ruin the bond you shared? Would it complicate things beyond repair? Would you both be able to go back to being friends, or would it always be different?

He thought back to his last relationship, the pain of betrayal, and the vulnerability he had shown only to be hurt in return. He had vowed never to let himself be that open again, to never let anyone have that kind of power over him. The scars of that betrayal still ached, a constant reminder of why he had built walls around his heart.

But now, lying in the dark, he felt those walls begin to crumble. The thought of you, the way you made him feel, was breaking through his defenses. His heart hurt at the thought of letting someone in again, of risking that kind of pain. But the desire to be with you, to have more than just physical connection, was even stronger. Yet, he couldn't fully grasp the depth of his feelings, remaining blissfully unaware of the feeling that was quietly blooming in his heart.

Sleep didn't come easily for Bakugou that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts a tangled mess of want and restraint, desire and fear. He wanted you more than he'd ever wanted anything, and the realization only made his resolve waver.

°。°。°。°。°。° 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Tagssss - @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @uhnanix @sweetadonisbutbetter @daniwasnothere @lotusstarr @lainlovelain @sodavrr @juniper-july19 @n30nwrites @imsuperawkward

Lmk if you want to be added!!!

[maryaandmorevna]

what would dabi and y/n do on chrimtas if they were a relatively normal couple engaged to each other by Endeavour

okayyy, so I've been struggling with writing the next Plunders of War chapter (I hoped it would be done for PoW's anniversary buuut :( )

So, this Christmas short is my attempt at apology...you can see it as an unrelated Dabi x reader or the same reader/different AU where she's not Shouto's classmate.

🎄Embers Of Us 🎄

(Pro-Hero!Touya x reader)

tw: none really, touya's jealousy and teeth rotting fluff (yes, i warn you), English is not my first language

The invitation had come in a neat, crimson envelope - one of those outrageously expensive velvet papers. It bore the unmistakable insignia of the Todoroki family, perfectly pressed and unmarred.

Touya had stared at it for hours, turning it over in his hands, before mentioning the damn thing to you.

His father wanted you both to come to the Todoroki estate for Christmas. It had been years since Touya had set foot there, and he’d vowed never to return.

Yet, you'd made those eyes at him, begging him to consider that he'd met all of your extended family and you hadn't met any of his. Not his father, of course, you couldn't care less about a man who gave Touya such an awful, gaping hole where his heart was.

But his mother, surely you wish to see your mum, Tou -, his sister and brothers too.

So now here you were, standing on the doorstep of the house he once called home. You knew his father was a wealthy man, but the sheer size of this place put you into veritable shock.

You and Touya weren't struggling by any means, both rising young heroes, but this was a whole other level of opulence.

The grand door opened to reveal Shouto, poised and polished as ever. Touya gritted his teeth. Just fuckin' perfect. Shouto.

Father's masterpiece. His final and greatest work. The moment Shouto became a pro he soared through the ranks, landing at number two - just the place where his abominable father had been years ago. But Endeavor was now retired, busying himself with grandchildren he was allowed to see. Fuyumi's three. Natsuo, from what Touya had heard, had never let the old man meet his twins.

Shouto was number two for now, but one day -

Touya scowled.

“Touya. It’s good to see you,” Shouto said with a small nod, his eyes briefly flickering to you. “And you must be—”

“I know how to fuckin' introduce her,” Touya's interjection came out as a snarl. He immediately felt your hand slip into his - grounding him as an anchor would, to the sturdy ground despite the voracious sea lapping at his temples.

He cleared his throat, muttering, “This is y/N. My... girlfriend.”

Younger Todoroki's expression remained perfectly settled and you had to wonder was he a really accomplished actor or did he not perceive Touya's resentment.

The warm glow of the thousands of flickering Christmas lights and elaborate decorations did nothing to dispel the bile rising in Touya's guts.

Dinner was formal, filled with carefully chosen words and pointed silences.

Endeavor sat at the head of the table, his presence looming large even when he barely spoke.

Shouto, - ever the dutiful son, a fucking puppet -, filled the silence with updates about his work and the state of hero society.

Touya mostly pushed his food around the porcelain plate, ignoring the apologetic and unbearably tender gaze his mother was giving him, sneaking glances at you instead, as another fear, unknown to him until now, began to lap at his ribcage.

Fuyumi bustled in with a tray of cocktail drinks, and hugged you as if you knew each other for years.

"I'm so happy Touya has found you." She beamed.

You realized she fussed over everyone soon enough.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Touya,” she said softly, her eyes misty. “It’s been too long.”

After dessert, Endeavor excused himself - perhaps noticing the way his eldest's hatred still burned as brightly, and the conversation loosened slightly.

Shouto turned his attention to you, asking questions about your interests, your work, and how you and Touya had met.

Touya’s grip on his wine glass tightened and his quirk brimmed underneath his skin. He glared at the faint burn marks decorating his wrists and knuckles.

By the time you all moved to the sitting room, where the fireplace crackled invitingly, he was plummeting straight over the vertiginous edge. This was a mistake. His family had not even changed, and he found everything unpalatable. Natsuo was ignoring him, apparently hurt by Dabi's - his hero name - inability to keep in touch with his younger brother.

Touya peered at you perched on the plush sofa and went rigid.

You noticed. You always noticed.

When Shouto stepped out to take a call, you moved closer to Touya, gliding your delicate fingers over his forearm.

“Are you okay?” Your tone was as soft as sponge cake. Did you think he was fragile? Did you think his brother was so, so, so strong and-

He scoffed, turning his gaze to the fire. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is great. Shouto’s great. Everyone’s great.”

You must think so too, not some unknown number 135, but soon to be at the top.

“Touya...” You murmured, voice laced with concern.

He looked at you, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “You can say it, you know. He’s perfect. No. 2 hero. Endeavor’s pride and joy. Everything I’ll never be.”

Huh?

You had to blink several times to even follow his febrile line of thought.

When you did, your brows knitted together, your palms cupping his face, forcing him to gaze at you.

“Stop that. You’re not him. It doesn't matter. You’re you. And you’re everything to me.”

Touya swallowed hard, his throat seizing. “What if I’m not enough? What if you realize that he’s—”

“I won’t,” you interrupted firmly. “I barely even met him, don't tell me you're jealous of -hello-. How could you think that? I wouldn't change you for anyone. ”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he let himself lean into your heavenly touch.

It wasn't until you're both walking home, you cocooned in a warm coat and him in his navy turtleneck - he was always too hot for a coat, that Touya dared to continue your earlier tête-à-tête.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don’t want to be someone you look at and feel... disappointed."

You shook your head, your hand squeezing his.

"You won't lose me. Especially not over something that’s just in your head."

He closed his eyes again, the words falling through his muscles like a knife through butter. Touya shivered, feeling your presence fill the empty space between his ribs, where shadows gnawed and gnawed and gnawed.

"I find you enough, you know." You shrugged. "With those baby blues and your voice, and ah remember when you tried to flirt with me - that was hilarious, and you are very handsome, not to mention you are sometimes even funny-"

"Shut up." He grumbled, staring pointedly ahead, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe it.

He was enough.

For you. For himself.

Fuck Shouto though, that little bugger won't meet you again.

[quitealotofsodapop]

"Uh, Monkey King?" MK asked, ducking as a rather expensive pensive looking cloth flew ive this head, "What are you doing?"

"Packing." Sun Wukong grunted, eyeing what appeared to be a ceremonial robe of sorts with a critical eye. MK felt apprehension build in him, remembering what happened the last time he found his master packing.

"Are you... going somewhere?" MK swallowed his anxiety, hoping beyond all hope the answer was no. The gods, however, did not grant his wish.

"Yeah." Wukong sighed, running his hand through his fur, "I got some business that requires me to be gone for about a week. I'll try to keep you updated."

"A week!?" MK parrots back in horror, "But what about my training!?"

Wukong paused, tail flicking, before turning back to MK as if shocked he'd even ask that.

"MK, after everything that happened, do you really think a short break in training would be that big of an impact!?" Wukong asked, legitimately confused by MK's worry, "'Sides, you knot definitely are far enough in your training some self-guided study would be a benefit. If you want i can give you some tasks to do while I'm gone, too."

"But where are you going!?" MK asked, "And don't lie about going on vacation like you did with the whole Lady Bone Demon thing! Wait... is this like the lady Bone Demon? Are you having me behind again!?"

"Uh, no." Wukong grunted, pushing MK out of his face. "I just have some kingly duties to fulfill that require me to take a trip. I'm not going to be gone more than a week, maybe two at most. And Macaque is keeping an eye on the island so if anything happens, he can send a message to me."

MK froze at that, confusion written in his face. He tilted his head as he looked at the other monkey,

"Kingly duties? I thought being the Monkey King meant fighting bad guys and taking naps whenever you want!"

"No." Wukong chuckles, choosing to be amused by his apprentice' backwards comment than offended, "Being the Monkey Kid means fighting bad guys and saving the world. Being the Monkey King is a biiiit more complicated than that."

"...Say what now?"

"Alright, let's just say... I've been kinda keeping a lot of what goes into being my successor a secret." Wukong's paw came up to rub the back of his neck, "With so many major threats popping up all over the place, I'd focused entirely on your training as a warrior, but there's a side I haven't even began to touch. I wanted to make sure you were the best warrior you could be before either tried to add the ksot political and administrative side of being my heir into the fold."

"Politics!?" MK spat out incredulously, staring straight his mentor in disbelief.

"I am the Monkey King, MK. That means I have a whole kingdom to run." Wukong continued, "Any and all of the free time i get is dedicated to training you on top of that! The Counsel of the Great Demon Kings happens every hundred years or so. I hadn't gone to the last four, but since I've made a public reappearance, and with an apprentice at that, I'm expected to go and can't wiggle out of it this time! Believe me, I've tried."

"So like... Are you just up and leaving without me?" MK now looked heartbroken, putting all the puppy dog eyes on full blast, "You promised not to leave me again though!"

Wukong groaned, catching on to what MK was trying to do.

"Kid... you don't want to come with me. It's not going to be fun or exciting at all. You'll be forced to wear uncomfortable ceremonial robes that weigh a ton and have to be quiet and well-behaved." Wukong explained, trying to dissuade MK from his train of thought, "And everyone there is mean! They are dying to sniff out a scandal or two to take advantage of!"

"So? You said yourself you neglected to teach me how to handle politics. This is the perfect opportunity to start!" MK grinned, "I'm sure Tang can lend me one of his robes too."

"First of all, you will NEVER go to one of these events with a stuffy old scholar's robe. I'd lend you one of mine if that EVER happened." Wukong pointed out, eye twitching, "Second, NO! This is a final test sort of deal, NOT a tutorial type of thing!"

hehe! We discussed in the dms about poor Wukong having to attend a political summit for demon kings, and MK getting "homework" for the week.

Pigsy is approving of the homework idea. He's raised MK long enough to know his son needs goals to fulfil or he starts getting into trouble.

[reorientation]

zyn anon. sorry again for the long ass updates I shall stop unless I get pregnant lmao.

speaking of, have more faith in me 😭 Ive been playing it mostly safe. kinda. I don't have to stop smoking and i dont want to 😒 and all this is mostly reversible unless he gets me pregnant, so I'm a lil more cautious. and im not pregnant i checked a few days ago, not because of a pregnancy scare but just paranoia lol im definitely a dumb whore tho. we've discovered he has a breeding kink. LMAO. lol. im so fucked

anyway so, as it turns out I was right about lacking self control.

he went on a camping trip for a few days, and i was really pent uppp and so was he lol. and when i came over to his place, almost immediately horny brain took over. we just started kissing on the couch, and took it to his room. thankfully his roommates still on holiday. i got so desperate and pathetic, i begged him to fuck me even though no iud yet. he was definitely enthusiastic lol. he only took his pants off enough to take his cock out. he also ripped my panties 😒 he went to grab a condom from the night stand,

he was like "gotta play it safe now aha" and i was like

"no. go bare. 🗿"

he didn't even question it, i was so wet and i felt how easily his cock slid on me before entering.

he only ever went raw a handful of times even before my failed vow of celibacy. since he thought it was dumb for me to get plan B even if he swore he didn't cum at all in me. other than that one time. he'd tell me when he's close, and immediately pull out to finish on me.

but this time it was so primal, being skin to skin and that bare and close was insane. he had a hand on my hip, and he'd basically pull me back down on his cock but fuck lol it just felt so strong. we stopped at one point, i was still all the way on his cock and on top of his lap but no riding. is that cockwarming?

idk but I want to do it again. i felt his dick like. move inside of me during that. all we did was make out but it was way too hot.

anyway, he pushed me on my back and told me he was close, as predicted, I told him to cum in me. he asked if I was sure and not only did i beg him to cum in me.

i told him to get me pregnant 😭

i wasn't thinking properly and I got scared immediately after saying it. i was worried it was gonna put him out of the mood but it did the opposite 😭😭 he asked smth like "oh, you wanna have my kids?" and omfg he kept mumbling about it. telling me to take it all deep, telling me hes gonna get me pregnant.

i came so hard, and only with penetration. it was such a weird feeling, and before i could become rational and tell him its just a prank. pull out. it was over, he came in me while mumbling about knocking me up 😭😭 i was short circuiting lol. and it was different than last time. it felt more shakey, and he kept doing these small thrusts after I think most of his cum was already pressed deep, and then he just settled all in me. he was soft by the time he pulled out, i was way too hazed out ngl

he came a lot. some started to drip down when he pulled out, and i felt him finger it back in me.

he said he didnt nut the whole trip, and was saving his cum for me. he knew id be too horny and impulsive to make good decisions. 😒.

as it turns out, he has a big thing for breeding, but was scared to tell me incase i took it a bad way.

im terrified of having a partner who gets off on the idea of getting me pregnant but I can't stay away.

i complained that id have to wake up so early to run out and get plan B, and buying it will be expensive.

so he told me to just not get it then. and I'm like .. well .. I'm not on any birth control and im full of cum .. like maybe risking it be a bad idea. ironically, like you had once suggested, he suggested I leave it up to chance.

I did take plan B after. twice lol. im still really anxious, but incredibly horny and I didn't know both could exist at once

he's arrogant now too. ill go over after work and when we're about to fuck, ill ask him to wrap it. and he's like "nah, don't feel like it tonight". he also threw out his condoms. but even if i bring my own he doesn't use them 😒

my birthcontrol method was to start riding him when he's about to get close, and pull off before he's about to cum. but he caught on and now just grinds me down on him as he's cumming

i told him about my detrans kink and he leans heavyy in it. or he probably is just an actual straight man. he reminds me daily that he can't believe i ever thought i was a boy. he doesnt even say it in a kinky way like he just means it. lol :/

im pretty much always thinking about it. everytime he finishes in me, im stuck dripping his cum for two days, and im still paranoid that ill be carrying more than just his cum from this blip up lol. and also, you taught me more about post nut clarity right. he told me to risk it maybe half an hour after he came. surely hed have post nut clarity and not actually want a baby, right?its weird to feel fear and horny at the same time.

(Previously)

have more faith in me 😭

-

I told him to cum in me. he asked if I was sure and not only did i beg him to cum in me. i told him to get me pregnant 😭

Oh, I certainly have faith in you, Anon. I know you're going to do just what you're supposed to. 🖤

Come on, sweetheart. Do you really expect to make it out of this without him putting a baby in you? You begged for him to knock you up, took a week's worth of his cum in your unprotected pussy, and then just lay there blissed out and hazy while he made sure every drop ended up inside you.

Sure, you took Plan B afterwards. But now he knows what kind of girl you are, and that you won't stop him from keeping you full of his cum. Sooner or later, you'll be ovulating, and you'll conceive for him.

And that makes you dripping wet, doesn't it? Knowing that your straight boyfriend, who never thought of you as anything except a girl, is doing his damnedest to give you a baby bump. That you already came off T for him, and now you're taking his load in your fertile pussy whenever he tells you to.

When the day of your IUD appointment comes, I hope he just holds you down and fucks his cum into you, instead of letting you go. Clearly, he'd be justified: you can't possibly claim to be a reliable source on what you really want.

You thought you wanted to be a boy, but you eagerly turned back into a girl the minute a straight man got his cock into you. You thought you wanted to be safe, and then you begged for him to knock you up. Hell, you thought Zyns were worth whoring yourself out for, and you don't even like them. Why should he think that not wanting to have his babies is the one way you really know your mind?

[yandereheathen]

The Boss's Plaything [18+ Ateez Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader]

Paring: Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader

Yandere songhwa x Reader if you squint at the end. Warnings: Yandere dark themes!! NSFW Non-con, Mentions of hurting other people, jealousy, voyeurism. Choking, knee grinding, no protection (BAD) Disclaimer: This in no way reflects any of the real Ateez members. This is my own fan content :> I also do not endorse these kind of relationships. Enjoy with your own mental heath in mind <3 Word count: 2.5k "You know what they say about Office romance."

Working for Kim Hongjoong was an experience. Long days, short deadlines, and odd requests were quite normal. However, the pay was terrific, along with the benefits. Also, you had the fortunate situation of studying and being best friends with him before his creation and rise of the Cromer Corp. You, him, and Songhwa were good friends. You and he naturally followed Hongjoong after schooling to help him with his dreams. He was ruthless but hard-working, and you knew this company was his whole life, and you wanted nothing more than to see him grow and achieve that.

So, you started your day seemingly like any other. 5:30am Two americanos, one black with extra ice for him, the further your own with cream and sugar. You liked things sweet. 

Little did you know, so did he.

You called up the elevator to his high-end apartment, going through your phone and seeing the schedule for today. Meetings, some project updates, and, of course, The Halazia Party. You and Hwa had been running ragged along with the other branch heads. Well, mostly, you had to keep Woo and San more to task than the others. 

You have gotten along very well with the other branch members. All brilliant in their rights, you always felt a little out of place. You know the lower associate whispered that you didn't quit having the background or shine they did and that you had only gotten this position due to your friendship. First, do your best to ignore those and work as hard as possible. You never wanted to bother Hongjoong with that stuff. 

You opened the door with your hip, put the coffee down at his desk, and opened the blinds, looking around his office. It was just like him. It was clean but had a carefully cultured style. Everything in the room had meaning. Small, expensive gifts were the case from investors, and his awards and degrees were also put in specific positions on the counters around the room. Only one thing was slightly out of place. You pick it up from the right side of his desk. A picture Hwa had taken of both of you in school. You were laughing at something happening on screen, and Hongjoong had a rare small smile on his face, looking up at you. Not that he didn't smile. He had the charming smile he saved for clients or investors and his "demon face" when he put someone in their place. This was a smile you didn't see often, but you caught glimpses. 

Only when looking at you.

"Y/N. I see your habit of coming in unannounced still going strong."

You smile to yourself, turning. Hongjoong was already dressed impeccably. His hair spilled black and bleached and slightly slicked back. A sly played on his lips, looking you up and down. To check if you are dressed appropriately, of course. He was so particular about fashion.

Boy, did that skirt he had bought you hug your curves.

"Yeah, well, I want to ensure you had sun and coffee for when you got in. It is a big day."

You beam at him, but he sits, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at his computer but still giving you glances.

"We do. Have you and Songhwa finalized the food, venue, and security?"

You nod and start listing off confirmations and any other information that he would need to know. Emails he needs to answer or reminders.

You worked so hard for him. Even since school, what you lacked in pure born talent you made up with hard work, determination, and empathy. He loved to see how hard you tried for him. To impress your best friend turned boss. It more than stroked his delusional ego. You were his best project, along with Cromer Corp, of course. A sweet, nervous girl, pure and so tentative. It was easy to fall for you and keep you in his clutches. Hongjoong has liked to collect things ever since he was young, whether it be things, money, or people. 

His carefully created branch members and brand. You and Songhwa are the jewels. Park Seonghwa, someone who he found was the only person to match him, a perfect right-hand man for all aspects of his business. Even the more unsavory parts that you didn't know about. Then there was you, Y/N. The sugar in this recipe. His one guilty pleasure. Something to be carefully shaped and modeled into his perfect little plaything.

Tonight, he was going to take that next step.

"I don't want to wear this. It will look silly. It looks like a collar."

You frown at Songhwa as he helps you zip up your dress. He bites his lip, eyeing the leather in your hand. He knew, of course, that Songhwa knew everything about his boss. 

Things he had helped Hongjoong with. The threats of the people who wanted to talk to you in school, then the carried-out threats on the people that threatened his friend's careful little relationship. There was one part of him. The empathetic human part that made him squirm thinking about it was the blood and screams. However, he knew he was no different. He liked the neat little world Hongjoong and Y/N had with the other members. He also would do anything to keep that peace. Even if it meant dooming you to your part in his plan.

"It is fashionable Y/N. You know he will throw a fit."

He takes it, slipping it over your neck, fixing the latch so it is tight but uncomfortable. He glances at the ceiling, a slight shine of a camera only seen by the tall man. He gives it a quick look:

"Are you watching? This is what you wanted, isn't it, Sir."

You smile, greeting the guests, trying to hide your slight annoyance. For the event, Hongjoong liked to dress you and all of the members. Typically, he had you in a simple but still conservative outfit. This was not the case. A tight red dress is lined with lace dancing around your hips and chest. The leather band with a latch in the back and a tiny hourglass charm in the front only made you feel more self-conscious. 

You took a sip of your wine in your glass, waved over by Jongho and Mingi, sitting at a far table. Both dress smartly, of course, but with their own personalities shined in. Jongho had a more straightforward, classic fitting for the head of HR, while Mingi had more colors and tight pants showing his old legs, perfect for the marketing head. You flop in the chair next to them, fanning yourself. 

"Thanks for calling me over. I need a break just for a moment before I do my rounds on the other side."

"Joong, has you rubbing around in a dress like that? he must be crazy. Minji winks at you.

You roll your eyes.

"Yea, yea, I know I look ridiculous in this. I don't know what Hongjoong is thinking."

you pick at the dress, painfully aware of any "flaws" it shows.

"I don't think that is what he meant, Y/N."

The younger man sips his drink, looking into your eyes with a ... knowing look? What was that about? 

You playfully hit him, standing up and stretching. You feel a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you to his side; you let out a small yelp.

"There she is. I have been looking all over for you. I need help with something."

You look at the handsome face of Hongjoong. He is dressed to the nines like always in a front tye suit, the inner shirt matching your own dress, a pocket square of the same lace in his front pocket. His mouth pulled into an odd smirk, his eyes lingering below your chin. You don't haul away used to his closeness by now. Hongjoong always said he liked to be more hands-on with things.

He really did enjoy handling his "things."

"I was just taking a short break. Did the Reps from Stay Offices come yet. I know Chan and Bin said they would-"

Hongjoong ran his finger on your chin and traveled lightly with his nimble gloved fingers to the collar, tugging it ever so slightly.

"This looks good on you, Y/N. It really suits you."

Your ears got warm as you met his eye, not pulling away in embarrassment. 

"Is this some joke calling me your pet, huh? I get enough slack from the associates."

You laugh light-heartedly, but he doesn't match you playing with the small charm eyes cold.

"I told you to tell me if anyone was giving you trouble, Y/N I would handle them."

Mingei and Jogho cough, getting up and waving at you. 

"That is our cue to head out and schmooze. You both have fun~"

Mingi winks again, and Jongho looks at you slightly. Was that worry? You just brushed it off, turning back to your boss.

"It is fine. Harmless teasing, I promise I am a big girl. You don't need to take care of me so much. I am supposed to do that for you!"

You smile, holding his face and rubbing his cheek lightly. His whole body seemed to soften at your touch, but he pulled away quickly, looking around, making sure none of his business partners had seen this moment. You weren't ready yet, after all.

"Y/N. Can you come with me quickly? I need to speak to you about something."

You tilt your head, letting go and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you sure? People are still-"

"This can not wait."

You already have made him wait too long.

You walk into his office, slightly nervous. You run through your head everything that needs to be done. The food tasted and perfect, you triple-checked every guest. What could-

"You look beautiful, Y/N."

He steps forward, cornering you to his desk, putting his hand on it, boxing you in, and smiling at you.

This was a new smile, almost.

Predatory. his black eye held something more than the softness or anger. 

"Well, the dress you picked out was perfect, as always. Was this all you needed to"

He cuts you off again, pulling you by the leather collar onto his pouty lips, his other hand pulling you against him. He lets a soft moan into your mouth, a release almost as you feel his hand grope your backside and something poke your leg.

Your brain goes a mile a minute. Shock, confusion, anger, and something else mixed inside you. You try to pull away, but he grabs you harder, forcing his tongue into your mouth and mixing his saliva with yours. You continue to struggle, but it seems to only strengthen his grip. After another minute of young wreaking in your mouth, he pulls his mouth away just so slightly to gently kiss the top of your ear.

"That's a good plaything. Y/N, you were waiting for this, weren't you."

You quickly shake your head, face and ears hot.

"Hongjoong, a-are you drunk or something that's going on?"

He only laughs, his knee sliding up between your legs, rubbing the soft fabric of your clothes sex.

"Halazia can mean Hearts awakened Y/N. I chose tonight to awaken your heart and mind to your rightful place. Next to me. Forever."

He nuzzles into your neck, kissing it lightly, knee rubbing faster; you let out a whimper, hands on his chest, and you try to push away from him.

"Hongjoong, please, I don't; you are my boss. We are best friends. Let's go back to the party. You must have been drinking too much."

Hongjoong rows into your shoulder, pushing you onto his desk, the objects painfully cutting into your back. He stands between your legs, rutting into between your legs, his eyes lidded and breathing heavily.

"I don't think so, Y/N. I have let you simmer long enough. It is time for my meal. You. Are. Mine."

He rips up your dress roughly, pulling down the thin fabric of your panties. You scream, but it is cut short by another kiss. Even rougher this time mixed with whispers of.

"That's a good girl."

and 

"Look nice and wet for your Sir already, are you."

Your brain screams for him to stop, but your body heats up, enjoying the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit gently as her ravages your mouth. He pulls away, leaving you rambling and light-headed, before undoing his pants and rubbing the top of his cock on your slit.

"How long I have waited for this day, Y/N. You have no idea. You were teasing. The frustrated night, the people I had to hurt to keep you my perfect plaything. All min now."

Before you can question him, he trusts you. Thanks to his fingers, your body was prepared, not your mind. This was Hongjoong, who you loved like a best friend whom you followed, loved, and supported your whole adult life. You had no idea he had these feelings and weren't sure you liked them. 

You fought his thrusts in vain. He was too strong, and the adrenaline of finally fucking the love of his life only boosted that his lips found your chest young, hungrily licking around your sensitive bud. You wiggle under him, trying your best not to call out in pleasure that was coming in waves from your core. He stood up, egged on by your little noises.

"That's it. You are taking me so well, Y/N. Look at how perfectly your little pussy fits around me. Take it, take me inside of you, let me fill you with all my cum. Let me fill your womb that is begging for my seed. My precious little plaything."

He closes his hand around your throat, resiting your air as he mercilessly pounds into you, the object cutting your skin. With repeated motions, he lets out a hiss as he pours inside you.

"F-fuck, that's it, take it. Take it like the good object you are."

You bite into your lip, drawing out blood. The metallic taste mixes with his taste in your mouth. as your body betrays you. His love filling your already sore and abused pussy is too much. Everything was already too much. His confession, anger, and mark on my heart, body, and soul. You could only mutter out jibberish as you lay on his desk, the picture of both of you beside your arm.

He grinds into you, taking out his phone to take another picture. He could also frame this one but keep it on his desk, and then he would have to send it to Songhwa to give him a better angle after all. He waves at the small red light his other assistant thought he didn't know about hiding on the shelf. 

"You will enjoy your new position with me, Y/N. I will make sure of it."

Author note: *Cries* this was a heck in a half I am not great with real people, but the great Kpop Yandere writers have been such an inspiration for me I wanted to try <3 Thank you for your support :> reminder my asks and requests are open!

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Shrinking Violet (Rhysand Smut)

Hi! Happy Friday, my loves! I impulsively wrote this first thing this morning. Don’t exactly know what came over me but I thought I would share it 😏

Also, I’m using my updated General ACOTAR Tag List for the tags, so if you’re not on it and you wish to be, please click the link and comment so I can add you! ♥️

Warnings: Smut, of course! Enjoy!

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The violet-shaded dress had seemed like a good idea at the time. A time when you’d felt daring and mischievous and like you could do whatever the fuck you wanted. 

Now, with a tight-lipped servant tugging your corset strings as you stared yourself down in the mirror, your audacious nature was refusing to rear its head, scattered to the ashes by nerves. 

“I wish to have a gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.”

Rina, your good friend and the Hewn City’s most reputable seamstress, had looked up at you from the various sketches on her dress. She was snowed-under with orders with the upcoming event — Rhysand’s first visit as High Lord of the Night Court. It was nothing short of a damn coronation.

“Are you sure you should?” Rina had raised an eyebrow at you. The look she always got when you were up to something. “He’s High Lord, now. Things are different. Should you truly make a statement with your gown that most certainly won’t go unnoticed?”

“Should I not?” You’d spun around, palming the various fabrics that made up an entire wall at the back of the studio. “High Lord he may now be, but I know Rhysand more personally. I wish to have a violet gown that is an ode to those depthless eyes.”

Rina had shook her head, but said no more on the matter. You were paying — well, your father was — and you had a design in mind. That was that. She’d known you long enough to know that there was no talking you down from an elaborate idea.

Besides. Besides, besides, besides. You did know Rhysand more personally. 

More personally, in the form of him secretly fucking you in the darkest corners of the Hewn City, when he had just been the High Lord’s handsome son, learning the ways of the court. You were his filthy little secret, someone he would never display publicly on his arm. Would never think of you beyond the haze of lust that clouded him. Perhaps that was what the dress was secretly about. Capturing his attention.

Things had changed dramatically since he’d last had you pressed against a wall, a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans as he’d pounded into you. He was always ravenous for you behind closed doors and totally different in the open. A game — it was a game the two of you played.

But he was High Lord, now. You were excited to see what that looked like. 

Violet gown, indeed. You smoothed your hands over the tight bodice as the servant stepped away. As the daughter of a member of the Night Court council, you would be expected to look every bit the rich, expensive, pretty subject who would bat her eyes at the new High Lord and offer polite well-wishes for his future. 

While wearing a gown so tight it was like a second skin, the very daring shade of his eyes. 

Anything to keep those eyes on you.

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Rhysand had been trained for this, of course. Right down to the finest detail. Any outsider looking in would presume him to have been High Lord for far longer than a matter of months. There was something effortlessly arrogant about the way he lounged on his obsidian throne, one leg hooked over the arm, a chalice of wine in his hand that was constantly being topped up. 

He was the centre of attention, and he was loving every second of it. 

You’d never seen the instating of a new High Lord. Rhysand’s father had been on that throne for your entire life, until he’d gone and gotten himself killed. And now…now it was time for a fresh face. One with a feline smirk and a lilting voice behind it that sounded like music. 

You knew precisely what that voice sounded like when he was close to falling off the edge. 

You hadn’t yet spoken to him or caught his gaze. The evening’s proceedings had been fine-tuned to run smoothly; food and drink and music and dancing. Now, a long line of people queued up to the dais, forcing Rhysand to listen to the same sentence on a loop with every person who knelt before him. 

I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject. 

The words had become a monotonous drone. You wanted to spin around in your violet gown and make a show of yourself and catch the High Lord’s gaze. You wanted to be adventurous and fun, just like you and Rhys had always secretly been. 

Your father went before you, prattling off the same oath as those who’d gone before him. He and Rhys exchanged pleasantries, and Rhys’s voice seemed to snake past your father and round to you, caressing every bit of your skin that was on show. The sound was like silk. You wanted to tear your dress off and wrap it around your naked body. 

After what seemed like an eternity, your father was stepping aside and leaving you to wander up to the dais. Feline eyes met yours, the exact shade of your gown that felt suddenly too tight and too hot on your body. You gave a polite acknowledgement to the two Illyrians at the High Lord’s side — Azriel and Cassian — before you offered a flourishing bow.

“I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject.” You spoke, your voice slightly lowered. Just for him. 

Rhys’s eyes slowly studied every inch of you, starting at your hair, your painted face, the heavy jewellery that complimented the column of your neck and the lobes of your ears. And then they flicked down to the gown, studying the beaded detail. The way it sinfully clung to your body before flaring around you in layers of violet tulle. 

Heat flashed across those eyes, and you knew — he’d clocked exactly what you’d done.

“Good evening.” He drawled, his head falling on a tilt. His hungry gaze roved you once more. “And what have you come as?”

A subtle smirk tugged at your painted lips. “A shrinking violet.”

The High Lord tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. You wanted to drag it between your teeth, too. 

“There’s nothing shrinking about you, darling.” He purred. He took your hand in his, brushing his lips to the backs of your fingers. “Enjoy your night.”

A dismissal. A teasing one. It was all part of the game. His eyes fell to your gown again, and you spared him one last glance before flouncing away to dance. 

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You liked this game — yours and Rhysand’s.

Dark, shaded alcoves and long, winding corridors, perfect for a session of cat-and-mouse. Huge, unoccupied rooms, the walls of which volleyed your moans back and forth. You’d played the game a hundred times before, and you wanted to play it tonight. 

The party was unending, and so was the flowing wine. All part of the game. When Rhys had merely been the High Lord’s son, his apprentice, the two of you had always waited until everyone was gloriously intoxicated before you would share a heated glance and slip away — you first, and him following moments later. 

The night had reached that point. The frenzied music had become languid and sensuous, the bodies on the dance floor grinding against each other. Not one person in that throne room was sober. And so you set your drink aside. 

You strolled casually past the dais, shrugging out of the numerous dances people tried to pull you into. Rhys’s gaze seemed to find you immediately, and as you passed in front of him, you met his eyes and dipped your chin. The signal. The game was starting. 

But he was High Lord, now. Far more scrutinised and important. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow. Perhaps he was done with your antics—

Mere moments passed between you slipping into an empty corridor and the door opening behind you. A smirk played on your lips. You lifted the skirts of your gown. Kicked your heels off. And ran. 

Your feet slapped against the cold concrete floor as you sprinted away from Rhys. A dark, lilting chortle echoed behind you, and his pace picked up as ran after you. 

You were light as a feather, weightless as a cloud, shoving through doors and empty rooms, skidding along polished floors, climbing huge, ornate staircases. Rhys was always a few steps behind, and you knew he could easily catch up if he wanted to. But he savoured the chase as much as you did. 

You flew up another grand staircase, up and up to the very top of the gargantuan building. You knew precisely what you were doing, and so did Rhys. You took a left, veered down a long corridor. A dead-end. The door at the end led to an enclosed room.

“Where do you suppose you’ll go now, little violet?” Rhys called behind you, his breaths heavy. “I do believe I’ve caught you.”

Indeed, he had. You laughed wildly and opened your mouth to retort, but your already-huffing breaths were stolen from you as his body smacked into yours from behind, slamming you against the door. The wood groaned as he pressed his front to your back. The evidence of his arousal was already waiting for you. 

“Got you.” He hummed into your ear, his nose brushing your neck. “Now, what’s my prize?”

You bit down on your lip as he pushed his groin against you. “Your prize is whatever you wish it to be.”

“Excellent.”

He reached past you, opening the door to that unoccupied, echoing room. His hand splayed over the bodice of your dress, keeping your body flush to his as he walked you both inside. 

“I think I would have you against the wall.” His hand travelled down, fisting in the skirts of your gown. “Or perhaps on the writing bureau. Or the chaise lounge. Tell me, which would take your fancy?”

“Why not all of them?” You bit down on your bottom lip as his hand finally found a way under the fabric, skirting your thigh. 

“Naughty, wicked thing. Why not, indeed.”

You were suddenly being spun in his arms to face him, and there was barely a chance for your eyes to meet before he was claiming your lips with a scorching kiss and backing you towards the wall. Your back hit it with a light thud, and Rhys was boxing you in, settling his knee between your legs and very deliberately pressing it against the very centre of you. 

“You know,” he purred as he broke the kiss. “My father used to tell me to stay far away from you. He said that I should find a female fit to pop out heirs. That females like you like to play games.”

You sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed your neck. Crawled downwards. “Your father would be right about that.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “But, you see, I like to play games, too. And the bastard is dead now. I am High Lord. Your High Lord. And I’m feeling mighty playful tonight.”

His knee pressed harder against your soaked underwear, and a soft moan slipped past your lips. 

“So play,” you said. 

Rhys struck. 

In a flash, he was sinking to his knees before you. Like you were his High Lady. He lifted the skirts of your gown, throwing them over his head. The sight of him disappearing beneath the fabric might have been amusing had his nose not nudged against your centre, causing you to jerk. 

“Now this,” he yanked your underwear down, blowing a breath against your slick folds, “this is a feast fit for a High Lord.”

His silver, sinful tongue licked a stripe right up you, and your head fell back against the wall, a loud moan breaking free of your throat. Rhys wasted no time in feasting on you. He licked and lapped, his teeth grazing your clit, and you imagined what he must look like beneath your skirts, his face flushed and soaked with your wetness. 

“I love your taste.” He groaned against you, sucking on your clit. “You have no fucking idea how much.”

Perhaps not. But you could hazard a pretty good guess just how much as he damn near devoured you, bringing you to the very brink of bliss. When he heard your moans and breaths hitching in your throat, felt your hips jutting forward, he sank two fingersinto you. 

“Gods,” You gasped, writhing against him, against the wall. Your mind fractured into a thousand tiny pieces as your release slammed into you. Your legs shook.

Rhys licked and pumped all through it, enjoying every moment, every gasp and groan. Only when your walls ceased their contracting around his fingers did he pull away. 

He emerged from beneath the fabric, his hair tousled, his eyes heated. His mouth swollen and glistening. One look at him, and you were fisting your hand around the front of his perfectly-tailored jacket, yanking him to his feet. 

You wanted to taste him just as he had tasted you, but he stopped you from lowering yourself to your knees. His hand grasped your clothed breast, and he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You were bored of the dress, now. Pretty as it was, just like his eyes, it was too much of a barrier. You tried to reach behind you for the laces—

“No.” Rhys nipped your lip, staying your hand. “I want you to wear it while I fuck you.”

Your eyes flared. “As you wish.” You glanced down at his lips. “High Lord.”

A guttural groan escaped him, and the tether on his control snapped. The following moments were a confusing, heady circus of heavy kisses and panting into each others mouths, both your hands fighting to undo the laces and buttons of his trousers. As soon as they were loosened enough, he was shoving them to the floor. 

“I think about you, you know.” Rhys said, hissing between his teeth as you wrapped your hand around his length. “I come to the thought of you. How do you manage to make a mess out of me without even being there?”

“Because I wish it to be so.” You squeezed gently. “And so it is.”

“Wicked, wicked creature.”

You silenced him with a kiss as you pumped his cock, savouring the feel of it twitching in your palm, jerking at the very brush of your touch. Rhys emitted a growl, and he was batting your hand away, replacing it with his own.

“If I don’t get inside you,” he dragged the head of his cock through your slick folds, “I think I may bring this city down around us.”

His eyes held a promise to do exactly that, and as the head nudged at your entrance, he grabbed the back of your neck, sliding his lips over yours.

The tip had barely slipped in before thudding footsteps approached, and a knock was pounding on the door. Rhys growled beneath his breath. Ignored it. Pushed into you further. You gasped. 

“Rhys.” Cassian’s voice came from the other side. 

“Not now, Cassian.” Rhys thrust into you, right to the hilt, giving a very audible grunt. 

“You’ve been gone for too long.” The Illyrian general persisted. “People are starting to notice.”

“Not fucking now, Cassian.” 

He pulled out to the tip, his angry words breathed against your mouth. You swallowed them greedily as he thrust right back into you once more, a slight pinch of pain within the pleasure that wrangled a loud moan from your throat.

There was a pause on the other side of the door, a curse — Cassian muttering “Cauldron fucking boil me” — before his footsteps retreated once more.

“Look at you,” you nipped Rhys’s lip. “Keeping your loyal subjects waiting.”

“I am.” He shifted, slamming into you again. “For you.”

Your response because lost amongst the pleasure as Rhys fastened his hand at your hips and lifted you from the floor. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded deeply. “And hold on.”

You did just that, your legs locking around his waist, your arms around his neck. Rhys pressed his head against your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there. 

And he fucked.

“Gods, you feel exquisite.” He groaned, slamming into you harder, faster. “I could spend the rest of my existence buried inside you.”

You moaned, your head falling back. You felt his tongue against the column of your neck. “That seems like a foolish way for a High Lord to spend his time.”

“Nothing about this is foolish.”

He was damn right about that. Words eddied away from your tongues, the room being filled with moans and grunts and gasps and screams. Rhys filled you so utterly, so completely, that you couldn’t imagine anyone else being able to do so. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He grit out, reaching down to circle his thumb against your clit. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Coming undone for me. Coming on my cock.”

“Fuck, Rhys.” You gasped. They were the only words you were able to get out before he sent you hurtling over the edge. 

The fall of your second climax was euphoric, addictive. You were hot and cold, asleep and awake, present and absent, lost somewhere in the ether. Your moans filled the room, perhaps the whole building, the entire city, as your walls clenched his cock hard, his thumb continuing the ministrations to your clit. 

Rhys’s thrusts picked up, the pace frenzied and desperate. You could feel him tightening inside you, hear his breaths and grunts hitching in his throat, the pleasure furrowing his brow. You purposefully clenched around him once more, and he lost it.

“Gods!” He roared, stifling the sound with a hungry kiss to your lips. His hips stilled abruptly, and he was spilling into you, every last drop filling you.

It seemed like ages that he spent moaning and groaning and whining, emitting needy little noises, drawing out a few more languid thrusts despite having emptied himself entirely into you. He was completely at your mercy. Undone by you.

He was your High Lord, and yet tonight, you had ruled him. 

He was still breathing heavily as he pulled out of you. His eyes locked with yours, and a strange, indiscernible expression crossed his face.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He breathed. 

You snorted. This was all part of the game, the continued teasing. You liked that a lot. 

“Would you give me a crown?” You jibed.

Rhys’s eyes glittered. “Only if I could fuck you in it.”

You smirked, toying with the lapels of his jacket. “And what of your throne? Would you fuck me on there?”

“I would fuck you in every last corner of my city. Over and over until my people have committed our moans to memory.”

Such a poetic, silver-tongued male. Your smirk remained as you let go of him, but he was having none of it. He clutched you against him.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He repeated. 

You smiled vaguely. “No.” 

“You could live however your heart desires. We could play there, too.”

Your laughter was light, airy. You pushed him off, squirming out of his grasp. “Such pretty words.”

His hand caught yours, and he pressed it to his chest. “Come back to Velaris with me.”

“No.” You said again. 

You smirked at him, and he smirked back. And as you leaned in, he slammed his eyes shut, bracing himself for your kiss. 

You didn’t deliver. You merely swiped your thumb over his lips, erasing the evidence of you ever having been there. 

“Until next time,” you hummed. “High Lord.”

You finally pushed around him, smoothing your dress as you passed, your bare feet padding on the floor. 

“This is inconvenient.” Rhys called as you braced your hand on the door handle. 

You glanced over your shoulder. “What’s that?”

“I am your High Lord. But hearing you call me such makes me desperate to bury myself deep inside you again.”

A soft trill of a laugh left you, and you turned your back on him, opening the door. “Don’t be greedy.”

You stepped out without looking back. That was how this wicked, glorious thing between you went. The best thing you could do to not make it hurt so much when he ignored you before his subjects. Rhys being High Lord hadn’t changed that. Nor had it taken away the mischievous, playful male with honeyed words that you knew him to be. But walking away like that, you had the power.

His laughter followed you down the hall, and you smirked one more.

High Lord, indeed. 

You both knew his control had been obliterated at the first sight of you in that violet dress. 

A gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.

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[ass-deep-in-demons]

WIP tag game!

I got tagged by @nerdanel01 which was a double treat because not only I get to share my WiPs but also I got to read excerpts from the next update of Love is a Stranger 😍​😍​😍​

Rules: You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Right now I have three WiPs going on: 1. Under our Darkening Skies (Boromir) - Chapter 3 2. Tales from the Lighthouse (Emmrich x Osla "Rook" Mercar, multichapter, cannon setting) 3. Small Town Horror (Emmrich x Osla, multichapter, small town AU) My key word is:

LIGHT

[L] - from Small Town Horror

"Listen, Varric, I appreciate…" Varric held out his hand. "Just… hear me out, Rook. I know you won't accept charity, so how about a deal?" "A deal?" Osla echoed warily. Varric nodded. "We help each other, just like in the old times. No handouts, no debts, just clean cut business." "Alright," said Osla, "I'm listening." "You remember my brother Bartrand?" "Of course," said Osla. The mention of Bartrand got her attention. "Tarquin told me he's had some sort of a… crisis. How is he?" "Hmm… Better than a month ago, when his head went crackers. Still nowhere near mentally stable. He's been admitted to an… institution. It was going to be temporary, initially, but with how his recovery is going so far, the doctors think it might become more of a… permanent arrangement." Osla felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't the only one going though it. Hers wasn't the only family that got broken. Suddenly her drunken antics seemed like a childish tantrum. She should get a grip. "Shit, Varric, I'm sorry," she offered lamely. "Yeah, well, it is what it is," said Varric. "But this is where you come in. You see, I need someone looking after the Tethras Farm in the meantime. How about you move in there, take care of the animals during the cold season, and uncle Varric will cover your living expenses ? Hm?" "Please don't refer to yourself as my uncle ever again," said Osla.

[I] - from Small Town Horror

In a moment of bravado, he decided to drive to the farm and check on her. Maybe something had happened. Maybe… Maybe she broke and… indulged? He was glad he himself hadn't been drinking at the party. He walked the short distance along the Main Street to the clinic, popped in the front door to grab his car keys. The ride to the Tethras Farm wasn't a long one, but it required some concentration - the country road had no street lights. As he approached the farm, he could see from afar that the windows were lit. That meant Osla was likely at home. Emmrich felt relieved. As he approached, more details became apparent: one, that the gate to the farm's frontyard was open, and two, that a silver minivan was parked right next to Osla's old pickup. Emmrich did not recognize the car. Did Osla have guests over from outside of Mournville? He read the minivan's plate - it was from the Nevarra City, which confirmed his suspicion. Emmrich felt self-conscious. Coming to check up on Osla when she was alone was one thing, but ringing her doorbell to be greeted by her family or a group of friends - that would be something else entirely. What if… what if she had a gentleman, or a lady friend over? Was that why she'd missed the party?

[G] - from Under our Darkening Skies

"(…) go," said a voice over Boromir’s head, and he felt the weight that was pinning him down lift. An outstretched hand appeared above him; Boromir took it and hauled himself upright. “Hail Boromir of the White Tower,” said the rider who had helped him up. Boromir recognized his pointed helmet with horsehair crest as the sign of the Marshal of the Mark, but even without it, his voice was familiar and gladdened Boromir’s heart. “Hail Eomer, son of Eomund!”, he said. “Ever are the Lords of Gondor welcome in the King’s Folde, and Boromir first among them,” said Eomer, who seemed to be in high spirits, still in battle frenzy. “Even when he appears mid-fight, out of thin air, no less. Now I must know, whatever were you doing in this orcish camp, alone and unarmed?” “Preparing for dinner,” said Boromir tersely.

[H] - from Tales from the Lighthouse

He saw, with some mortification, that Manfred had taken the Tevene medallion out of his satchel and was waving it at Rook, proudly displaying his plunder in front of her. “Hiss!” the spirit called out, pointing to the decoration. Emmrich saw Rook turn pale and wide-eyed. He hastily stood up, preparing to intervene. “Rook, if you would allow me to expla-” he began, but was interrupted. “That’s mine!” Rook hissed, snatched the medal with a trembling hand and clutched it to her breast. Whatever the origin of the trinket, it must have held a great value to Rook, judging by her immediate reaction. Emmrich approached her carefully, feeling everyone’s eyes on himself. “Please, accept mine and Manfred’s sincerest apologies. He didn’t mean to steal it from you, he just collects random objects that he finds interesting,” he sighed. “I will strive to watch him more carefully next time.” He could tell that his apology had only been moderately successful at mollifying Rook’s outrage. Clearly, she counted touching the medallion for a serious transgression. Her eyes remained trained on Manfred, who in turn was giving off a strong aura of alarm and confusion at her outburst - an aura that Rook, lacking magical talent, had no way of perceiving, Emmrich knew. Still, she appeared hesitant, perhaps fighting some inner battle about how to respond in this situation. At last, she came to a resolve. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, which appeared to be her preferred method of soothing her nerves. “You are welcome to look at it, Manfred, but please, ask me next time,” she told the skeleton calmly, even though Emmrich could tell how much it cost her. “I really don’t want it to get lost or damaged,” she added.

[T] - from Tales from the Lighthouse

They entered the battered pier carefully, looking for any sign of movement on the deck, detecting no one. They couldn’t see the actual deck over the board. Suddenly, an elf swung from the air on a rope and landed on the board, in an acrobatic feat. He was well out of reach of any direct attack, and no walkway has been lowered to the pier, so there was no way to arrest the newcomer. Osla took the stranger's measure. He was an adult elf, maybe a few years younger than Emmrich, which would give him well over a decade over Osla herself. Slender physique with catlike movements and a well fitting leather armor marked him as a rogue type of fighter. His skin was tan and wind-weathered, with prominent charming laugh lines surrounding his eyes. He was favoring them with a self-satisfied grin, framed by a mop of blonde hair flying in the wind. “Arainai!” growled Lucanis. “Get down here so I can end you.” “Lucanis, you know him?” Osla asked, incredulous. Lucanis frowned and was about to answer when the strange elf cut him short. “Evidently not as well as he thinks he does. I no longer belong to House Arainai, nor do I claim their name. These days, I go simply by Zevran. At my lady’s service," he bowed theatrically. “Zevran? I’ve heard that name somewhere,” said Taash. “Do not trust a word out of his mouth, Rook” warned Lucanis. “Why? Is he a rival assassin?” asked Osla. “Worse! He is a contract breaker!” said Lucanis and spat, as if the very phrase left a bad taste in his mouth. The elf uttered an exaggerated sigh. “As ever my reputation precedes me, I see,” he tutted and shook his head in mocked disbelief. “In my life, I have only ever broken a single contract (…)"

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Tagging: @scyllas-revenge, @sotwk, @konartiste, @esta-elavaris, @dismalzelenka, @lavenderprose, @emmg, @lucifers-legions

Your word is:

TRUTH

[shirecorn]

Pardon me if this is too personal, but how are you faring after losing your job?

I didn't lose it; I quit because the shelter board was making decisions that hurt the entire staff and all the cats and it was making me crazy because no one was listening to me and sooner or later the animals were going to start dying from lack of care. They were already going almost 2 weeks with broken limbs without seeing a vet. Working there was killing me.

What really did it for me wasn't even about the shelter. I finally signed up for a figure drawing session, pulled out my pen, and remembered why I was alive.

Right now I'm back how I was before I got the job: drawing an insane amount every day, to the point I have to force myself to take breaks for the sake of my wrist.

When I had the job I had to force myself to spend 30 seconds on the daily doodle to keep up my streak. Even on my days off I felt half dead.

Right now I'm taking a short break on moneymaking to do some personal projects, then I'll open up commissions. They'll be more expensive than they were before, because I'll need to pay myself a living wage per hour.

I also need to start cross platforming to get more exposure. I'm literally ONLY on tumblr because its the only social media I enjoy, but I gotta get around, you know? I have accounts on reddit, twitter, instagram, and furaffinity, but they are mostly empty and just holding my name so no one else takes it.

I also need to update my portfolio, linkedin, and join behanced and Artstation.

I'm not excited about all the work ahead of me, but it's gotta be done if I want to make a living.

I am excited to draw again.